Another Jack story I know I have been absent, I stupidly ignored school while I was feeling down for lack of a better word, I just didn't have the energy to do much more than exist, and now I'm knee deep in schoolwork, or I have been, it's better now. So for those of you following WYSLMT expect an update soon, I'm mostly finished, just not quite happy with the chapter yet.

I don't own four brothers.

He was small, always had been. A combination of starvation and the drugs that were surely already in his system by the time he was born. It was just bad luck really, he'd been dealt a shitty hand but he couldn't be bitter, that's just how life is sometimes.

He was small, and he cowered... but inside, inside he'd begun to burn.

Through every hit, through every degradation, through every pain and through every tear he suffered, and the fire that had begun so small, a spark of light struck by the match of one particular evil spirited man, grew stronger and stronger, until one day it was a raging inferno, the soul he thought destroyed long ago suddenly returned to him.

They thought he was broken, they laughed at his shame, not knowing that inside his body his heart was beating in time with his breath, the whispers in his head that this, this was enough. He had a right to be free.

In the grand scheme of things it might not be much, but when he's hauled to his feet and then even further up, up to meet the eyes of the man, he spits in his face. The voices in his head cheers, his heart beating wildly.

A hand comes up, followed by a harsh curse and he waits, he knows what's coming, but for the first time in what feels like forever he does not cower. He meet's the man's gaze unflinchingly, awaiting his punishment, and like clockwork it comes, just as he knew it would.

Later that night he lies on his back staring out the bolted shut window. He can just make out the stars through the dirty glas. His whole body hurts but it dosen't matter. He just knows that if he can just get through this, if he can just survive long enough, there'll be something else for him, he knows it. He just has to survive long enough to see it.

He touches his bloody lip gingerly, pulling back his fingers and staring hard at the blood coating his fingertips he rejoices in the feeling of pride rising in his chest. He basks in the glow of victory, even though most would probably not call it one. The voices in his head disagree. They're proud of him, he can hear it in their voices, and they're cheering him on, waving an invisible flag and telling him that he's right, he has a right to be free.

They whisper to him that soon, soon it'll be his time. Soon he'll be where he's supposed to be. He just has to hold out a little bit longer.