Chapter Text
Jinx wasn’t sure when she started being this way. When this storm was formed in her.
For a while, she blamed it on Vi leaving. The day following that hellish week. When the voices started, when she jinxed everything to the point of no return. For years, that was the reason. The explanation for why she was like this. Why she felt this flood in her soul. But the older she got, the more that reason stopped making sense. It got harder to justify when Vi came back and things started to feel somewhat normal again.
Then a rambunctious kid fell into her life.
After meeting Isha, Jinx started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t something that was wrong with her. That the storm she felt fester throughout, can be controlled. Her “jinx” may not be a bad thing. Jinx began to believe maybe she could be good.
But then Isha got taken away, and just like that, she felt the waves overcome her. Born with this curse that breaks everything that gets too close. Putting out all the light in her life.
Jinx didn’t want to be this way forever. Drowning in her emotions.
So, after months of Vi and Sevika nagging her, she finally looked into getting help. She never told them about how she felt, about the storm, but everyone and their mother could tell she was fucked up.
There were many trials and errors when it came to finding the right therapist. Jinx (with the help of Sevika) tried one in Zaun. He was too much of a pushover. Couldn’t handle her snappy remarks. Then Jinx tried one in Piltover, huge mistake. The lady couldn’t understand what it was like growing up in Zaun, the disconnect made Jinx resent her a bit. The lady also talked to her as if she was a kid. While Jinx didn’t want someone so clinical, she definitely didn’t want someone who talked down to her as if she wasn’t one of the youngest teens to graduate early from high school. So, Jinx tried again in Zaun and found one she was okay with. She wasn’t perfect, but she was a nice lady who could handle her comebacks.
It was hard in the beginning for Jinx to go into the heavy stuff. They started off talking about how Jinx’s week went. A bunch of boring stuff. It helped ease her though. Even if she did itch to run home every time she got to the office.
As time went on Jinx was able to open up more about her past. About Vi, about the fire, about Isha, about her resentment for Caitlyn (she’s working on it), about Silco. Talking about it didn’t heal or “fix” anything. But it was freeing in a way to be able to openly talk about what she thought and felt without someone (Vi) looking at her as if she kicked their puppy. It was also nice to be as mean and dramatic as she needed to be without being told off. Although her therapist, Dr. Orla, always made sure to ground her to reality.
All this to say. Jinx thinks she might be ready to tackle the big question that’s been itching her since what felt like birth. While Jinx hasn’t even gotten into the messy relationship she had with her brothers or her struggles in her identity, she doesn’t think she can wait much longer to broach the topic of what the hell was wrong with her.
After years of therapy at the (not so grown) age of twenty-three, Jinx walked into her appointment and was barely prepared to find the cause of her storm.
Jinx sat on the edge of the chair, picking at her cracked lips. Her leg bounced the way it always did when she was gearing up to say something she wasn’t sure about. The room smelled like eucalyptus, from the humidifier sitting on Dr. Orla’s desk. It soothed her a bit.
Still, her chest felt tight.
Dr. Orla had grown used to the first few minutes being silent. Jinx didn’t always do this every appointment. On good days she’ll bounce right in and talk her ear off. On days like these, Jinx needed the first few minutes to work herself up.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jinx muttered, eyes locked on her therapist, watching for her reaction. “About…stuff. From before.”
Dr. Orla didn’t speak. Just gave a slight nod and leaned in a little, encouraging her in a subtle way so Jinx didn’t feel like she was pressuring her.
Jinx twisted a strand of her blue-dyed hair around her finger until it pulled at her scalp. “I always said it was Vi leaving. That's what messed me up.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “But I think…I think that was just the part I remember clearest. The part that hurts the loudest, get it cause the…” Jinx trailed off a little, pointing to her head and swirling her pointer finger. The joke didn’t seem to land, “I used to constantly hear what Vi said to me. I’ve talked about it before. Everything about that day felt like it became my whole identity. Hearing her words no matter where I was. No matter the time of day her words followed me.”
“That makes sense,” Dr. Orla said gently. “When something really significant and painful happens, like what you went through with Vi, it can take up so much space in your memory that earlier experiences get pushed to the background. Your mind focuses on the most prominent hurt, especially if it’s the easiest to identify.”
Jinx nodded in understanding. She let the silence fall again. It was heavy but not uncomfortable.
“I feel like something’s wrong with me,” Jinx said eventually. “Not in a dramatic way. Well maybe a little. Just…it feels like there is something fundamentally wrong. Or broken. Something that grew to overcome me as a person, this storm that causes mass destruction in its path. Everything that’s happened to me or around me just proves that there's something wrong with me.”
Jinx knew Dr. Orla wouldn’t judge her. Despite that she was half-expecting judgment to come across her face, but all she saw was patience.
“I used to think maybe it was something I could control. That I could be good and not a jinx. Maybe in another life I didn’t turn out this way. Maybe it’s all that stuff people say about being a product of your environment. My environment just had shark infested waters and constant category 5 hurricanes. Add on a million tsunamis all at once too,” Jinx tried to joke before continuing. “But if it's true, that I'm a product of my environment, then there has to be a beginning, right? Like…a point where things started to go wrong. When this storm inside me was formed. I keep going back, but everything feels blurry.”
The therapist let a few seconds pass before she spoke. “That feeling you described, that there’s this storm inside you. It’s not uncommon in people who’ve lived through repeated traumatic experiences at a young age. Especially when the pain that it leaves goes untreated.”
Jinx blinked fast, her throat burning. “Then why do I feel like it’s me that’s wrong? That I'm wrong for turning out this way. That no matter what I do, I’m always gonna end up back in the same place.”
Questions like these Dr. Orla learned it’s best to circle back to when Jinx was in a better state of mind. For now, she will jot them down until they are ready to return to them.
They sat there for a few seconds before Jinx continued.
Jinx looked down at her hands, each resting on the arm of the chair, voice barely a whisper. “I want to know when I became like this. What caused me to be this way. I need to.”
Dr. Orla nodded again. Her voice was gentle as she responded. “There might not be an answer you’ll get that will satisfy you, but we can figure out moments throughout your life that were significant to your development. When you think of these moments I want you to sit in that memory and tell me what you feel. How does that sound?”
“Sounds doable I guess.” Jinx whispered as she put her eyes back on Dr. Orla. Although she said she was okay with doing this she felt nervous.
“Alright. I’ll ask you to recall moments in your life with a series of questions. For today’s session we will start with a few. Do you remember when we talked about cognitive dissonance?”
“A bit, it’s the thing about how having different beliefs that seem like they contradict each other makes me freak out, yeah?” Jinx recalled.
The therapist hummed in approval before explaining “Cognitive dissonance can occur when someone holds or is presented with two conflicting beliefs. It may cause you to feel heightened anxiety and discomfort,” Before continuing the therapist looked at Jinx to make sure she was understanding, then continued “Is there a moment you can recall in your early childhood that went against what you thought you knew? Could be a moment where you felt short or long term discomfort because of sudden news or changes around you.”
“Oh come on Doc, I barely remember if I put my socks on this morning. What makes you think I can remember something from that long ago?” Jinx could think of a couple events from when she was younger, but it felt easier to deflect.
“While I certainly hope you put some socks on,” Dr Orla said with a smile. “know there’s no right or wrong answer to this question. If the earliest you felt this was sometime when you were a young adult, that's okay. It may not be accurate, but it gives you a point to go back to. Start where you feel is right.”
It took a minute for Jinx to think. With a loaded question like that it felt impossible to choose one singular time. Despite her words Jinx wanted to get an accurate timeline as possible.
“How about this,” Dr. Orla added, sitting up straight. “Think of significant moments ranging from the ages of 1 to 10. The feeling you get from these moments might not relate back to cognitive dissonance. It can be related to any of the emotions or behaviors we have talked about in the past. Even feelings we haven’t put a name to.”
Whenever Jinx thought back to her childhood, Vi leaving was always in the forefront. Jinx never liked to sit and think back to when she was Powder. It hurt when she thought about it too long. But there was no better place to revisit ghosts than with your therapist.
So as Jinx pushed through the pit in her stomach, and thought back to Powder. She knew her starting point.
At four years old, all Powder knew was the warmth of her family. Life was hard, but there was always love. Her parents worked long shifts in the mines. They usually came home tired, but still danced in the kitchen and played with her and Vi in the evenings. Vi told her stories, made her laugh when she missed their mom and dad. Vander was a constant presence. Strong and steady, always helping not just her parents but the whole neighborhood. There was always someone to hold her. Someone to notice when she cried. Someone to reassure her when things felt too much for someone so young.
Powder believed life was full of love despite hardship. Full of comfort. Full of safety. Full of moments with her family holding her.
Then one afternoon, everything Powder knew shifted.
She was sitting on the rug in the living room, giggling with Vi as they played with two rubber bugs. The TV was on in the background, it was late enough that the afternoon cartoons had switched over to nature documentaries.
”You girls mind if I change the channel?” Vander asked from the old leather recliner. The recliner was torn from old age and stained from the many spilt juice boxes. Vi glanced up and gave him a nod.
The room was filled with the laughter of Vi and Powder playing, the hum from the refrigerator, the low murmur from the T.V.
Powder didn’t notice when the volume of the T.V. went up. She didn’t notice when Vander sat forward in the recliner.
She noticed when Vi trailed off whatever she was saying and dropped the rubber bug in her hand.
Everything else began to fade as the T.V. became the only noise she could hear.
Powder looked up at the T.V. On the screen was a live broadcast. A helicopter capturing overhead footage in what powder assumed was a pit in the desert. There were firetrucks surrounding the area, sirens wailing. Smoke coming through what appeared to be a hole in the walls of the pit.
Powder had to scooch a bit closer to read the words on the bottom of the screen. She couldn’t understand much of it but from what she could make out, something had happened at a mineshaft.
She had just learned what that meant. Her parents worked there.
Powder didn’t understand everything that was going on, but she understood that something terrible had happened from the images on the screen. She understood from the way Vi was suddenly grabbing her hand too tightly. She understood from the way Vander’s eyes went to the telephone, to Vi, and then to Powder. She understood from the way no one told her what was going on, but everyone stopped smiling.
It wasn’t until an enforcer came to the house that she felt it.
Powder believed life was full of love. Full of comfort. Full of safety. Full of moments with her family holding her.
That was all she knew.
Now, her chest felt tight and she didn't know what to think. All she knew was she felt unsafe.
After that night, Powder would stare at the door for hours. Willing for her parents to walk through those doors just one more time. Her dad, to scoop her up, to call her “Pow-Pow”. Her mom to chase her around the house, before picking her up and twirling her in the air. She stared at the door as this hole formed in her stomach. The hole didn’t close. It never closed as the weeks passed.
The warmth she once knew was replaced by this deep rooted feeling. Something she couldn’t name yet. She just knew, even at four years old, that her world had shifted. The love and comfort she knew life to be was still there, but it didn’t make sense to her anymore.
How could life be filled with so much pain if she was supposed to feel love? Her parents should be here. Safe, like her.
But they aren’t safe. Were they even safe to begin with?
Does that mean she isn’t safe?
At four years old, all Powder knew was the warmth of her family.
At four years old, Powder’s world had turned upside down.
At four years old, a seed of doubt was planted as her sky turned grey. The first sign of this storm within her. Leaving behind a tangle of feelings and thoughts Powder didn’t have the name for, like puddles forming beneath her feet before she even knew it had rained
At twenty-three, Jinx found this moment to be a starting point.