It usually got dark early during the winter months. The cover of night was preferred to the numerous gangs that populated the streets of Detroit. Gangs that thrived off of violence. Lots of violence.
With each kick to the midsection, Jack's groans lessened and he was pretty sure unconsciousness was following.
He ached all over and his vision was dimmed, mostly from the tears welling up in his slitted eyes. Had he any strength left, he would have made a hasty wipe at them. It was all about coming off looking like a man in these mean streets, Jack often mused in bitter silence. More often than thought, he came off as the wimpy loser and as much as he convinced himself that the title would fade with time, it never did. He was always the one who needed others to clean up his messes. Specifically his brothers. And though he was terribly ashamed of being such a wuss, he would have given anything to be saved right about now. Consciousness was leaving him and the high school thugs were still preoccupied in kicking him around like he was some rag doll.
Jack had always figured that after some time, it wouldn't hurt so much. Just like in the movies, these beatings would toughen him up until eventually he'd snap and these assholes would be in for it. But that was a load of crock. The fear was real and raw every time they cornered him and beat him and yelled in his ear. That was the worst of all. The yelling. Jack hated it when people yelled.
He wanted to stand up to them. He always went to sleep thinking that he would overcome some great obstacle and be a tough bastard like his older brothers. He figured that he'd finally live up to that last name that had that murky undertone sound to it. Quite frankly, that last name earned both fright and respect from most people. Mercer.
Jack had always wanted a last name that could stick. The foster homes were a horror show that he didn't want to remember but these sinister figures surrounding him now were like a morbid reminder of what he had just barely escaped.
You're weak, Jack, they seemed to scream, you're so fucking weak.
Jack gritted his teeth and suppressed a sharp cry.
It was so easy to simply lose faith and just lie there, wait for the beatings to end but as scared as he was, Jack was still stubborn enough to withstand the pain and just try and fight them off. Boy, did he ever try. Jack had a height advantage, for sure. It wasn't as if he hadn't fought before. Jack had made plenty of people bleed back in foster care but that had always been the result of self defense and uncontrolled frustration. But with these guys, there was just no way Jack could hold his own. He was a lanky but scrawny white boy who was getting his ass kicked.
It was funny, Jack thought to himself with a bruised smirk that seemed inappropriate due to the current circumstances but he couldn't help it, they only ever beat on him because of his last name. Beef with his brothers was instant beef with him and it was so easy to target the lowly baby gazelle who had wandered away from his herd.
Just when Jack was sure that this beating would result in one severe concussion, he vaguely became aware of shouts of protest. It was a little hard to comprehend things seeing as how his eyes and ears were swollen from constant punches but once he stopped clutching his gut and peered closely, he saw his saviour.
Fuck, Bobby looked pissed as all hell but to Jack, it was like witnessing the unveiling of some Da Vinci masterpiece. The guys who had looked so confident and sure of themselves just moments earlier were now being beaten and tossed around like dirty laundry. And Jack? Well Jack was smiling. It hurt to stretch his bleeding mouth like that but he was smiling and smiling wide. The tears streaking down his face burned against the open cuts on his cheekbones but that was fine. Bobby was here and that's all that mattered. Bobby took care of everything.
"Lemme tell you something you flat-nosed, nappy-haired punk," Bobby snarled over one particularly large fallen figure, "if I catch you anywhere near my little brother again, I'll shoot your dick off and make your little friends here eat it. You fucking understand me, nappy?"
The pitiful soul just groaned and nodded, making a poor attempt at scrambling away once released from Bobby's less than gentle hold.
Jack coughed and attempted to sit up once Bobby made his way over. He could feel his brother's strong hand rest atop his shoulder, attempting to conceal a wince. God it hurt.
Bobby inspected him carefully, those normally intense hazel eyes softening. "You alright, Cracker Jack?"
Jack laughed and it hurt like a bitch but he had to laugh. His nose was bleeding, his eyes were puffed and swollen and his already messy hair now looked like he'd stuck his head into a blender. What a question.
"Do I look alright?"
Bobby actually seemed to consider this, grinning amiably enough. "Like a million bucks ya little fairy. Come on, ma'll give us hell if we miss dinner again."
Jack nodded and spit a nasty wad of blood off to the side, rising to his feet with his brother's aid. His legs were a little wobbly and Bobby apparently took notice as he placed an arm around his brother's slender shoulders to guide him home.
"Fuck, Jack. They jobbed you good, huh?"
Jack rolled his eyes and ignored his inner embarrassment at basically having to be carried home. "You think?" Bobby could be so dense.
Bobby ignored the sarcasm behind the response and offered Jack's arm a gentle squeeze, knowing it would cause a little pain, which was exactly his intention. "You can't let these dumb fucks walk all over you like that. I'm not Harry fuckin' Houdini, Jack. I can't always magically pop up when you need protection."
Jack considered this in his usual thoughtful silence. It was a plain fact but as ridiculous as it sounded, he had allowed himself to think that Bobby was some kind of superman who would always be there when Jack needed him. He'd never let him down before and he didn't think he ever would. Bobby was just so good at what he did.
Jack glanced to the side, giving his brother a look that could only be described as hopeful.
Bobby seemed to pick up the signal in an instant. He never really had to speak to let Bobby know what he was saying. Perhaps that just came with being the older brother. He snorted softly and reached up to affectionately ruffle Jack's blond mess of hair.
"Or maybe I can."
Jack grinned and said no more. Sure, there came a lot of baggage with being a Mercer. Unwanted fights, the constant threat of danger, a bad rep he didn't need but Jack wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He took pride in knowing that he finally had a last name. He had a family and he was one of the Mercer brothers.
With a sigh, Jack would hold his throbbing head high and continue along to the safety of a place that was officially home with the aid of a big brother he was proud to call his own.