Sick Of All My Judges

It's all on me now. If you would like to contact your mayor, tag your submission "mayorler" and I'll do my best to get back to you. I'm a busy man. M!A: None

[mayorler]

This will be the final post for this blog.

I know that it's officially Ben's first year anniversary today, and in a way, I figure it's something of a fitting time for this post to be made. I've been thinking about it for some time now, but to be honest I wasn't sure.

Over the past several months, things have become increasingly difficult to run this blog. The environment around it has becoming more and more toxic as time passed, and while some things remain good and were at the point of improving, like Norma and Emily coming back together again, I feel that there isn't much point in this blog remaining open if Ben, and his storyline, are not allowed to flourish.

It would be different if he was structured more around asks, but the fact is that they are very seldom received and he has not thus far relied on them for his development.

But the main fact is that things have not come to pass in such a way as to allow him to grow. I had been excited for my plans for him, but they don't seem possible anymore, not in this medium.

This is nothing more than an artistic and a personal choice made by myself. I still love and care about Ben very much, and have for more than a year now. I wouldn't be surprised if he resurfaced in some other medium someday.

But not here, and not in this group any longer.

If you're still around, thank you from the bottom of my heart. My gratitude for you and your support is sincere.

Thank you, and goodbye.

[emily-zachariah-blog]

Emily’s hand shoots out and grabs Caroline by the collar- pulling her away from Ben’s curled up body. She tells Caroline to sit, and she does, before she slowly reaches her hand out to pat Ben’s back. Her hand doesn’t make it that far before dropping back down to her side. It might not be a good idea to touch him.

"Uh, hey. Ben? It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. Can you hear me?"

[mayorler]

Ben's a pitiful figure lying there on the ground, cringing and whimpering from the sound of her voice. Slowly, he lowers his arm to stare up at her, wide-eyed and trembling as he nods.

[emily-zachariah-blog]

Emily can hear the distant sirens blare from the Fire Station, followed closely by police sirens. It disturbs the air and the cold morning; makes her wonder what’s happening in the town that hardly ever sleeps and turns the cogs like heavy machinery, forever moving forward with more tragedies to report.

Her black eye is healing and she’d forgotten how much it sucked to have people asking you if you’re okay. It’s her own fault for forgetting to buy make up, but it is nice to know that her co-workers cared.

Caroline’s leash jerks forward in her hand as she tries to move forward as if trying to drag Emily along towards the new day.

….Or the park bench. Where a very familiar figure is sitting.

At first, she wasn’t sure she recognized him but no it is definitely Ben, she thinks as she sits down beside him. Caroline jumps in his lap.

"I thought you dropped off the planet." She says in a quiet voice with  twinge of amusement from her dog’s antics.

[mayorler]

A sudden, half-scream tears from his lips as Ben shields his face with his arms. His muddled mind hasn't made sense of the assault, this huge, leaping weight on his lap, only processing one thing: danger. Escape. His legs flail, trying to kick off his attacker.

He feels the fall, the stunning ache in the back of his head as he hits the ground. Terrified into paralysis at this unknown attack, he covers his head and curls up there on the cold, hard earth.

[mayorler]

The sky is still the color of sleepless eyes, bleary gray and tinged with red. For now, the snowfall has passed and left only a harsh wind hissing through the bare trees as Ben walks in the early light, huddled deep within Norma's coat. Finally, he sits at a park bench with stiff legs and aching eyes.

He hasn't slept since leaving Norma's house.

[mayorler]

Continued.

Ben blinks. Norma’s soft lips on his forehead and gentle words float just beyond the opaque barrier of his memory, taunting him from a time long gone.

It hardly seems real anymore.

His fingers wrap around the coat’s thick neckline, pulling it tighter around his thin shoulders to anchor himself. He takes a breath, lips parting as if to speak. But he stills his voice, and he nods. He leaves the house as silently as he entered it.

He looks back only once.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma watches Ben leave from her spot by the front window. When Ben has walked far enough that she can’t see him anymore, Norma leaves her window, going back to her kitchen, where Ben’s pie is still sitting on the counter.

Well, she’s never been one to let food go to waste.

She cuts herself a slice of the pie and sits down at her small kitchen table, getting herself comfortable before taking a bite.

He made a pie for me, she thinks. For some reason it hadn’t fully dawned on her until she actually tasted the pie that Ben had made it for her.

Norma doesn’t fully understand why, but she feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

"…This pie is really bad," she whispers.

[End Scene.]

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma stands up on her tip-toes and presses a gentle kiss to Ben’s forehead.

"You’re not a bad person, Ben," she says, softly, "I want you to know that."

She takes the coat and wraps it around his shoulders, not entirely trusting him to do it himself.

"Stay safe, okay? I worry about you."

[mayorler]

Continued.

Ben blinks. Norma's soft lips on his forehead and gentle words float just beyond the opaque barrier of his memory, taunting him from a time long gone.

It hardly seems real anymore.

His fingers wrap around the coat's thick neckline, pulling it tighter around his thin shoulders to anchor himself. He takes a breath, lips parting as if to speak. But he stills his voice, and he nods. He leaves the house as silently as he entered it.

He looks back only once.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

"Sorry," Norma says, pulling away from Ben to wipe the tears from her eyes, "I’m not normally this weepy. I’ll just…I’ll go get the coat now."

She runs off into her bedroom and comes back moments later with a large blue winter coat.

"There, this should fit you. It’s Finn’s old coat, and he’s shaped like a stick, too, so it should be fine…" She puts the coat into Ben’s hands and looks up at him. Without thinking, she reaches up to touch his face gently, her thumb running along the scars there.

"You don’t have to go home, you know," she says, "You can stay here. You could get away from her."

[mayorler]

Ben shakes his head, tossing it away from her as if her touch there pains him.

"N-no. If I stay here, I'll get... found by tomorrow morning. I c-c-can't do that to you. I'll... figure something out. O-or I won't, b-but I want..."

He hangs his head, biting his lip. It's become a common stress response for him, a muscle memory from the time he spent as a more literal monster.

"I w-want to become the kind of person who can help, too."

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma wraps her arms around herself, her shoulders shaking gently as she cries.

"I don’t want you to think that…that you can’t be a person," she says, softly, "I want you to be able to…to connect with people. And take care of yourself. I want you to know that you deserve that. Everyone…Everyone deserves that."

Ben’s body is still cold from being outside, but underneath that, she can feel the warmth of a living body, and with her head so close to his chest, she can nearly hear his heart beat.

[mayorler]

He doesn't say that he hasn't done anything to deserve it, or that he has in fact done an awfully lot to forfeit that right. He only apologizes again and again, as if somehow it will help him atone. Finally, he whispers, in a voice filled with terror, "I don't want to go home. She'll find me, I..."

He sniffles. No, that's wrong. That's bad. He doesn't know where he's going, but that's not, shouldn't be, Norma's problem. Precious Norma. Brave, bright Norma. He finally sees her, how much he's spoiled her. How much she still loves. He can't hurt her anymore. He just can't.

"Okay, I... I believe y-you. P-P-Please don't... d-don't cry about me anymore. Um....... C... can I have that coat... now........"

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

This is not the way Norma wanted tonight to go. Ben is backing out, back into the cold (still not wearing a coat), and for some reason, she can’t shake the feeling that that “goodbye” sounded awfully final.

She looks down at her hands, and they slowly clench into fists.

No.

She will not stand for this.

Norma reaches out and grabs the front of his shirt, half-pulling him back into the light.

"Ben Warrick," she growls. She is not looking at him, but at some spot on the floor, her mouth curled into a scowl. "I have had too many people leave me. Too many people just deciding that they’re just done, and getting up and…and leaving me behind. Well, I’m sick of it! I won’t stand for it anymore! I’m not letting you just walk on out of here thinking that if you just leave or whatever it is you think you’re doing that everything will be just hunky-dory! Because that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard!” Her breath is coming hard and fast. She is so angry. “We can’t go back to who we used to be. To the way things were. We can only move forward. So stop acting like if you just up and disappear it will all go back to ‘normal’ because it can’t. Now just…” She hadn’t realized it until her voice hitched, but she’s crying. ” Just come back inside inside. At least put on a coat before you go.”

[mayorler]

Ben cringes from her for a moment, fearfully throwing his hands before his face as she grabs him. But nothing comes besides her tremulous voice, which he doesn't know how to answer.

So he doesn't speak. He surges forward, wrapping Norma in his thin arms and clutching her, clinging to her, as he buries his face in her hair.

"I'm sorry," he says as he begins to shake from fresh sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't want you to cry from me anymore......"

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Continued.

"I…I’m not really sure," Norma says, slowly, trying to figure out the answer as she talks, "I guess I just think that…you deserve to be human. And if you actually want to try, then I want to help you…Or, I guess, I want the be the sort of person who wants to help you."

She’s not entirely certain if she actually wants to help him anymore. She doesn’t really think that’s important anymore.

[mayorler]

He pulls away from her, standing slowly as if unfolding from the heavy gravity of the floor beneath them. Conscious of himself once more, he startles for a moment and covers the left side of his face with his hand.

He doesn't look at her as he speaks.

"I... I think I understand now. There's....... no need. It's alright, really. I'm...."

He stops himself, looks down at her. How could he not see? The lights behind their eyes... they weren't something to envy. They were never a sought-after prize, an eternal chase for enlightenment. He feels a moment of detachment as he helps her to her feet. This was something he had to protect. He was too much of the poison in the sky, and the water, and the earth. The blight of the Warricks had to end.

He smiles at her as he hold his face, vision clouded as a few more tears drop down his cheeks. This smile is thin, and pained, but warm in a way like a goodbye is.

"You never should've, Norma. But... but thank you anyway. I n-never would've known anything if it wasn't for you."

He steps away from her, pulling his hood back over his face.

"Finally, I'm going to do something for you, too, Norma. In a few days, I'll lose office. I..... I signed that bill. But it'll be written over soon, and everything will go back to normal for everyone."

He's turning the doorknob behind his back, and as he's backing out into the cold and dark, he gives her his brightest smile. Just like he used to. Just like the Mayor-ler would have.

"Goodbye, Norma."

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma strokes his back comfortingly.

"Okay," she says, gently, "That’s okay. You know, it’s not too late to start trying again, if you wanted to. I could help you. The best that I can, anyway."

[mayorler]

Ben shudders, nodding slightly inside her arms. "It's... okay?"

He takes a few more breaths, coaxing muscles instinctively tense inside the embrace. "Y-you don't... have to. It's... not your j-job. Or...."

He shelters himself more, drawing himself inward, closing in around the edges. "N-Norma..... you........." he squeaks. "Y-you still........... even after................. wh-why?"

To be continued.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

"Oh, Ben…" Norma sighs. She doesn’t have anything particularly useful to say. She never did, not really. She’s never actually been any help at all, especially not to him, the person who needed the most help.

She takes a step forward and does what she can, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug.

[mayorler]

He tucks his face away from her, crying now like he's trying to hide it, stifling his sobs in the back of his throat. He can't do this, he can't. He's not scared; he's terrified of this.

When he speaks, it's under his breath, hoping Norma won't hear it because it's another truth.

"I give up."

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

All of the fight seems to drain out of Norma, leaving her shoulders slumped, her eyes sad.

"That wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what Emily wanted, either. None of your real friends wanted you to just…be a thing. We wanted you to be human," she says, softly, "And we tried to help you. I know I did. I did the best I could, Ben, but…I’m not a miracle worker. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do when you…when you never tried.”

[mayorler]

Ben's about to snap at her. No you didn't. You didn't try. But he doesn't. She's right, and he... he was wrong. His skin crawls with it, with the wrongness. His whole being is wrong, wrong, wrong.

He lifts his face, tear-stained and scarred and contorted with the effort of holding back more tears.

"I was scared."

It's the truth, the secret he's never dared to whisper, not even to himself. He was scared: of his mother, of his brothers, of his grandfather, of the city, and of everyone he met with lights behind their eyes and warmth in their fingertips. But most of all, he was scared of himself.

He was always just scared.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

"Fine," Norma says, throwing her hands up in surrender, "Fine. You know what? I’m done. I’m out. I’ve had it up to here with the people in my life refusing to be human. I’m fucking done, Ben! If you don’t want to be a real person, then fine! Go ahead! See if I care!”

Her hands are shaking. She’s not entirely sure why she’s so mad at him all of a sudden, or why it’s so important to her that he at least tries to feel emotions, but it doesn’t really matter right now. All she can hear is her own anger.

"I told your mom that I didn’t think you could feel things, but I’m starting to realize that I might have been wrong there! See, I’m starting to think that you just don’t want to feel!” In the back of her mind, Norma is dimly aware that this is probably an overreaction to Ben not wanting to wear a coat in the middle of winter. “But fine! I don’t care anymore! You have broken my ability to give a shit! Just…just get out of my house, if you’re not willing to be a human being!”

[mayorler]

Ben's gaze snaps up to meet her, his hood sliding back from his face. He realizes immediately it was a mistake. Something shatters in his mind as his tears begin fall, still silent after all these years. He tries to take a breath, to do anything, but his breath traps itself in its throat and he can't...

He stares at Norma, tongue fumbling with lips and teeth, until the words explode, unbidden, uncensored.

"Why wouldn't I want to be human?!" he screams at her - her face, her eyes, all roundness and perfection to his roughness and angles. "Don't you realize that's all I've ever wanted?! Don't you see-" his voice cracks, and he looks away, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. "Don't you see, I'm trying, I... I... I can't! I don't... know... HOW! No one ever handed me a how-to book on this! No one ever tried to help me! Let's all point and stare at... at Ben the Thing!! But you know what?! AT LEAST BEN THE THING WAS ALWAYS WHAT ANYBODY WANTED!!!!!"

He punctuates this last sentence by kicking the air, blinded by despair and anger and, well, the tears in his eyes. He beats his forehead with his fists, and when he crumples to the floor, he at last lets sound flood into his sobs, coughing violently and shaking.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

"What? No," Norma says, "Don’t be stupid. You’ll freeze out there. At least let me get you a coat-"

Ben isn’t listening. He’s just backing away rapidly, like she’s going to hurt him.

Well, I did shoot him with a crossbow, Norma thinks.

But still. She has had e-fucking-NOUGH of this.

"Dammit, Ben, will you just hold on for one minute so I can get a coat for you, so you can take care of yourself like a normal fucking human being?" she snaps, "Can you just do that for me? Can you at least try to be a human?”

[mayorler]

Ben freezes at the bite in her voice, tears that he won't shed leaping to his eyes. He bows his head, standing off-balance in the middle of a backward step.

He does not speak. He takes another slow step.

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma gets a good look at him. He’s shaking from the cold, and she can see that he’s refusing to look at her, refusing to lift his head, like there’s something he’s hiding under that hood of his.

"I have a spare coat in the closet. I’ll go grab it." She moves to go to her bedroom closet, but hesitates. "…Do you want…I don’t know. Something warm to drink? Like, tea, or hot cocoa or something? You must be freezing."

Having him in her home is strange. She can’t remember the last time he was actually here. It must have been before she shot him, certainly. Was it the last time she brought him in from the cold? She really can’t remember. Everything from when they dated has become one disappointing blur.

Having him back in her space, in her home, is disconcerting. But she’s pretty sure he’s not going to try anything.

Besides, he looks so much frailer than she last remembers. She could probably beat him up if it came to that.

[mayorler]

It was a trick, he realizes. She got him in here... why? Why does she want him? After every... after all he's...

Why is she doing this to him?

He should have stayed where it was safe. He should have stayed where he could hide. He backs away from her, back toward the door, still trembling, his panic rising closer to the surface. Why did he even come here? Where is he planning to go from here? Was running away even the plan when he left, or did he even have a plan at all. His thoughts are whirling; he can barely see straight. He has to get out. Now.

"I-I'm sorry, I... I h-h-have to keep... going..."

[norma-b-wiggins-blog]

Norma sighs again.

Of course this is how Ben is going to be. She really doesn’t want to deal with this right now. Or ever, in fact. She’s still secretly hoping that, maybe one day, Ben will wake up and just understand how to take care of his own damn self.

But that day is not this one, it seems.

"At least come here and grab a coat," she says, "You’ll freeze to death out there, and I don’t want to have to clean your corpse up off my lawn in the morning."

[mayorler]

It takes every ounce of his will to walk towards her (it's more like a shuffle), to not be frightened (he is very frightened), to not let her see his tidal undercurrent of emotion (his bite on his chapped lips is so harsh he can taste iron).

As he follows her inside and remembers what warmth feels like, he presents to her a Ben he thinks she hopes to see: a Ben not so much a person, but rather an object, a Ben who silently and willingly complies. More doll than flesh, more gears than blood, he hopes, he prays that this, at least, will fool her.

He's not entirely sure where he's supposed to find a coat. He begins to think that this was a trick, a trap, and his heart beats its way back up his throat again, breath quickening slightly in panic. Still he keeps his gaze lowered, his face (she can't see his scars, no, that would kill him) hidden within his hood. He stares down at his clasped hands, pale and now tinged blue from cold. And he stands, and he waits, and he does not speak.