I don't understand myself sometimes. I was listening to Taylor Swift's new song Red and suddenly I had to write this. I don't know why. It has nothing to do with Red by the way, and is more angsty than anything else I've written. This is basically the sad story about if Jerome's dad was even more of a jerk than he originally thought.

Boom.

The knock on the door disturbed the sleepy silence of the breakfast table.

Boom.

The knock resounded. The Anubis residents looked around the table in a quiet question, who is going to work up the energy to get up and get the door. Jerome rolled his eyes in exasperation and stood up.

Jerome gasped when the door opened. His lip shook as he saw a policeman holding John Clarke like he was the most disgusting being to walk the earth.

"Why?" Jerome whispered slowly.

"I suppose this belongs to you?" The police officer said sarcastically, " He broke his parole agreement, trying to flee the country." Jerome nodded.

"I see." He turned in the direction of the kitchen and called "Mara, call Poppy please." Then he turned back to the police officer. " Why'd you bring him here?" The police officer shrugged, "He asked to speak with you. I was bored."

Jerome stared at the man who was supposed to be his father. Icy eyes hardening, he opened his mouth, then closed it. He gestured in a stiff motion for John to explain himself.

"Jerry my boy, I just had to leave, I couldn't stay here like a dog in a cage anymore. Ten years of prison, you have no idea." Jerome looked at the small girl approaching him and brought her to his side. He took a deep breath, and he tried to phrase what he was about to say as eloquently as possible.

"We gave you a second chance. I tried so hard to free you, so much work I did to help you, someone I barely remember, someone who left me to rot. And I didn't want to give you a second chance, I didn't want to trust you, and you knew that. You were so kind. You seemed to really want to be a family again. But us Clarke's, we're the tricky ones aren't we? We're the ones that no one trusts because we aren't trustworthy, it's in our veins." Poppy was crying. And Jerome was loosing control.

"You left and I shut down, I tried so hard not to feel, as though that would numb the pain that I already had boiling in my blood. And yet I forgave you, and I never forgive. And you expect me to help you when you ruin your one and only second chance? Well you certainly used it as a second chance, a second chance to rip my family apart, a second chance to tear any hope for a normal life to pieces. A second chance to screw up at being a father." Jerome whispered the last line in his monologue, gritting his teeth and balling his fists. The police officer looked shocked, having not known what he was walking into.

Poppy looked up, "Jerome said everything that I think I needed too, but too add on, know that these will be the last words you will ever hear from us. I wanted to find you, I had to beg Gerbil to help, and he tried so hard for me. Never for you. And as this is the last time we will be seeing each other, there is something I have to do." John Clarke's sad blue eyes found hers, and she leaned back, throwing her knee between his legs. He crumpled, and Jerome looked at the police officer and said,

"We've said everything that needed to be said, hope we fixed your boredom problem."

The entire house had been listening, and Jerome knew that. He knew that walking to his room would be one of the hardest things he had to do. Closing the door and turning around, he saw nine faces of pity staring at him, he kept his chin up and walked purposefully to his room. Stoicism was in his face, and he needed to keep up the façade just until he reached the wooden door that led to his bedroom. He opened the door and found streamers and a cake in the center of the empty room.

Oh right, today was his birthday.

He sat on his bed and stayed for a long time. A note slipped under the door and he walked slowly to pick it up from the floor.

Dear Jerome,

The others say that you need space. I don't know if I agree with them or not, but I know that you were never one who liked to talk about his problems. But I wanted to say sorry, you knew this would happen but you did it anyway, because Poppy asked me to ask you because she knew that you would agree if I was the one who persuaded you. I'm sorry that I thought that something so complex was so simple. Sorry.

But I wanted you to know this, I don't think that you aren't trustworthy, I don't think that it's a family thing. Know that you may look a little like your father, but you are NOT like him in any other way, like Dumbledore said "It is our choices that define us." And for the past year you have been nothing but one of the most amazing people I have ever met.

I'm sorry for barging into your life the way I've been doing. I'm sorry for what's been happening to you. But you are tough enough to get through this. We both know that. I'm just scared that you might get through this and hurt yourself even more. It's none of my business, but I'd like to help somehow. Maybe just through letters, maybe by only being your friend, or maybe by… But we both know that you can never get rid of me.

-Mara

He smiled and folded the letter up and put it back in its envelope. He wrote a quick note, and crammed it into the envelope as well.

Mara jumped a bit when an envelope slid under her door, she picked it up and was disappointed to find her own envelope and letter. She sat on her be in defeat and opened up her letter, a small slip of paper fell out and she watched it fall to the ground, she picked it up and smiled.

Mara Jafferay

Consider yourself my pen-pal.

-Jerome

P.S. Or something more?

She blushed and walked swiftly to the door opening it and—as she expected—finding a confused and sad and bashful looking Jerome. She smiled waveringly. He looked relieved.

And then he pulled her into a hug that held more emotions than either could comprehend.

So yeah, that's that, also, I think that I actually am done with Rumors, so I'll be changing the status on that. Don't expect any more chappies.