Fan Fiction ❯ Brigitte and Jason ❯ Chapter 1

Kitty's Disclaimer: I don't own Gingersnaps. Lions gate films do. I just thought I'd let you know that.

 

 

Brigitte and Jason

 

The loud buzz of the school bell shot through Brigitte's ears, snatching her from her deep reveries with a hard jolt. The brutal cacophony of biology books slamming shut and jammed into backpacks flooded her groggy senses. The end of the week had finally arrived, yet Brigitte's sluggish movements showed no excitement. Her brain felt sticky, causing her to have dismal reflexes. She rose from her desk and slipped on her army green messenger bag, heavy as concrete for someone who had awakened barely a minute ago. Someone pushed past her roughly, knocking her sideways into a row of desks. Their action was promptly countered with a glare and an uttered curse.

 

The hall was a sea of bodies, rank with the musky stench of hormones. She forced her way against the human current, trying to reach her locker at the other end of the foyer. She didn't have to wait for Ginger this time, remembering their demise for her sister. She remained at home, pretending to be sick, yet still having her parents believe she was at school. Brigitte came to her locker and twirled out the combination. She opened the door and crammed her books in with the others. When she was done, she slammed the door closed and sauntered towards the glowing exit sign.

 

Most of the crowd was gone, save a few that lingered in the doorways of classrooms. Her eyes, dark with lethargy and the small painful blooms of a developing migraine, scanned the deserted hall for any other signs of life. Ever since she'd forged the excuse note and gave it to the secretary that morning, her stomach churned with worry and paranoia. Although being caught by the school was the very least of Brigitte's worries, she didn't want Pam to find out where her sister had really been that day. Other things could be discovered.

 

She turned a corner and was pulled into a closet by an unseen person. The door locked behind her and the dim fluorescent lights flickered on. Jason McCarty stood in front of her, his face flushed with rage. His eyes were a wild yellow. Wolf's eyes.

 

“Where's that sister of yours?” he asked in a slightly suspicious voice.

 

“Ginger's sick. She's at home.” she answered in a controlled low tone, her face growing hot with panic.

Jason snorted, skeptical. “Is that right?” He forced himself against Brigitte, slamming her into the wall. His hand reached up and clenched around her throat. She gasped and tried to pry off his immensely-sized grip. “You know, call me crazy, but I think Ginger's avoiding me.” His breath steamed over her nose, rancid and smelling of metal. “Don't worry, I don't wanna hurt her. I just need to ask her what the hell she did to me to make me eat my own fucking dog!!!” he shouted, threads of spit flying from his lips. His glowering eyes narrowed. “And I kinda have a feeling you know something about all this, too, Brigitte.” Her eyes widened with trepidation. If she told him the truth about her lycanthropic sister, things could end up worse than they had already been.

 

Brigitte tried to gather bravery that wasn't there. “Hurting me won't help you.” she growled. He angrily punched the wall next to her head, the crunch of his knuckles against the drywall startling her. He moved closer so his face was an inch from hers. “OK, then. You don't have to answer me. But the longer I go without an explanation, the longer you stay in here.” Jason's free hand reached next to her head and unhooked a long safety-orange extension cord that hung on a metal hanger. He wrapped it around her wrists and tied it with a hard knot. Her legs trembled under her, paralyzed with shock. Her body had shut down, leaving her defenseless.

 

 

He picked her up and placed her bound hands above her head, suspended by the metal hook that was bolted to the wall. Brigitte's struggles were helpless, just more encouragement of torture. “Jason, let me go.” she begged. Jason growled, “What did I tell you? Not until I get some answers about what the hell's happening to me. Or do you have something you want to say?” He brushed against her, his eyes cutting daggers into her face. “I'd rather die than tell you anything.” she muttered loud enough for him to hear. She moved her legs to kick him, but the confines of her skirt along with his strong frame didn't allow that. He grabbed her upper thighs, pinning them down. Her throat was swollen shut, a scream stuck like an apple skin that wouldn't come out. Hot tears burned paths down her cheeks.

 

Jason's grip on her thighs lessened as they slid up towards her exposed pale stomach. Something was in his eyes that she couldn't recognize. The same thing that was in his voice when he said, “You know, Fitz, you're beginning to look a lot like your sister. In more ways than one.” His mouth slid over hers, his strong hands wandered up her sweater. Jason's fierce kiss was grinding against her lips. He pulled away to look at Brigitte and grinned. “Nothing yet, huh?” His face moved towards her ear, his tongue flicked behind her earlobe. Small bolts of electric feeling ran cold streams down her neck and spine. A low relieved sigh escaped her constricted glottis. His low chuckle slid down to the neckline of her sweater. He grasped it and pulled, ripping the gray fabric open. He yanked hard on the strip of material between her concealed breasts, exposing them.

 

His warm cavity enclosed around her nipple, his tongue lightly flickering around the tiny nub. Her body was betraying her. She didn't want Jason at all, yet her excitement was gaining higher clout. She felt a bubble of heat in her abdomen. Brigitte's eyes rolled behind the thin veils of skin. She heard another rip, felt her legs being hit with a blast of cold air. Her underwear was being tugged down her legs. Her legs were set on shoulders, then a soft wet thing exploring her lower orifice. Liquid fire burst out between her legs. Her toes curled in their boots. This melting desire was giving her away. She felt nothing for this boy and, in fact, hated him. But what he was doing to her was waking up her senses, drowning them in ecstasy.

 

A strong suction on the tiny pearl of flesh made her body shiver and rock, an internal explosion rushing through her veins. Blood pulsed in her temples, screaming through every vessel in her system. A low moan, alien to her own ears, escaped her throat. He guided his way back up to her face and smirked, her wetness shining on his lower lip. She averted her eyes and felt grimed, shamed, humiliated for her own pleased reaction.

 

“Liked that, did you? No worries, Fitz. More where that came from.” he vowed. His hands disappeared from view as she heard the long whine of a zipper. He pressed his hardening sex against hers, the blood vessels in it throbbing. Worry-singed acid in her windpipe. Visions of what was about to occur made psychological pains cramp in her legs. Jason leered at her, his head tilted sideways a bit. “Got anything to say now, Brigitte? Or are you enjoying this?” he asked, the moist tip of his pulsating manhood prodded at her entrance. Brigitte glared at him as she spat out venom words. “You get off on this, don't you, you sick fuck? Go to hell.”

 

Her vengrate tongue failed her, and Jason tore through the small opening, shedding her barrier of unbroken innocence. She grimaced, tears spilling down her cheeks. He was a hot knife stabbing into her, biting and gnashing for her blood. He violently thrust into her as her bound hands formed fists, the stinging torment overwhelming her. His fierce pumping continued until finally he fell upon her naked chest and groaned, floundering like a fish out of water. He withdrew and adjusted himself back into his pants. Jason reached up, untied the cord that held her, and let her fall on her knees to the cold linoleum.

 

“No help on what I asked for, but at least I got something out of it. Thanks, Fitz.”, she heard his voice say. Something silver fell to the floor next to her head with a high-pitched ring. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand as Jason was heading towards the door. A quarter.

 

She latched onto his retreating ankle and pulled him down to the floor. His bleach-blonde head smacked the tile, the crunch echoing off the walls. Anger boiled in her throat and twisted her ebony eyes. Bewilderment was stamped clearly across his face. Brigitte grabbed his throat, her other hand bringing the carbon blade she kept with her out from under her sock. She held its dark glittering edge against his jugular and pressed just hard enough to draw a bead of blood. Jason groaned in pain. His eyes perused her serious face. “You don't have the guts to do it, you freak.”, he whispered, the attempted mask of fear in his voice clearly obvious. “Don't worry, McCarty.”, she replied, ignoring his comment. “There's more where that came from.”

 

She slashed the throbbing vein across its route, crimson fluid instantly spurting from the wound. His eyes widened and turned glassy, his throat gurgling. Jason's life fluid surrounded him in a vast burgundy puddle. She quickly pulled off his hoodie and pants and dressed herself, grateful that both were dark and hid the stains. She left her torn clothes next to his now lifeless disrobed corpse. She turned the light off and wandered out of the closet towards the exit of the now empty school, her dignity stripped, yet her revenge fulfilled.

 

THE END.