Bobby's perspective about Jack
I do not own any of the characters from the Four Brothers movie.
My Little Brother Jack
I will never forget the first time I saw Jack. He was almost eight years old, and had this messy blonde hair and big blue eyes. There was so much fear in eyes. He was so small, skinny, and looked so scared. He didn't speak a word and was traumatized because of the horrible abuse he had suffered in previous foster homes. He had bruises on his face, arms, and back and had a dislocated shoulder. He was also covered in scars. Why would anyone beat the shit out of a little kid? I thought. After about a month of living with us, he started talking to Mom and feeling more comfortable around her. He would only talk to her. He was too scared to talk to Jerry, Angel, and me. We scared him beyond belief, especially me. I was loud and my muscles scared him. We were a lot older and bigger than him, and he was afraid that we were going to hit him or touch him. He had had bad experiences with boys and men before so we could not blame him for being scared of us. We had to be very careful around Jack. If we yelled or he saw us wrestling or fighting with each other, he would become so scared that he would sit on the floor, put his knees to his chest, breath heavily, and rock himself back and forth. Other times he would run away, or just sit there with a terrified or detached look in his eyes. We would stop yelling, wrestling, or fighting right away when we saw how it affected him. Till this day, no one can make us stop fighting like Jack can.
When he first came to live with us, any little movement we made around him he would flinch and block his face with his hands, expecting to be hit. He was so scared that he did not speak at all. In previous foster homes, he would get yelled at or hit when he spoke, so he learned not to speak. I remember one time, he was helping set the table and he accidentally dropped a plate on the floor, he was so scared that we were going to hit him that he ran out the door as fast as he could. I ran after him and caught up to him. I picked him up and he began crying, screaming, and kicking. I took him back home, and sat on the floor with him on my lap, his back to my chest and rocked him back and forth until he finally calmed down. It was a technique Ma used to help calm Jack down; Jerry, Angel, and me also learned how to use it, and we used it many times on Jack. Jerry and I even practiced on Angel a few times, ha, ha.
I tend to be very loud, and I remember one time, I was watching a hockey game on TV, and was yelling at the TV. Jack did not like yelling. He thought I was angry and was scared that I might direct my anger at him and hit him, like in his previous foster homes, so he ran out of the room. Later when we looked for him, we could not find him anywhere. I finally found him hiding under his bed. In the foster homes he lived at, he would hide under the bed thinking if he hid under the bed, he would not get hit or molested, but of course, they always found him.
Jack was very young when Mom brought him to live with us. Much younger than we were when we came to live with her. He was only seven and a half years old. We were all teenagers when we came to live with her. All juvenile delinquents getting into all types of trouble (hustling, stealing, fighting, stealing cars, drug dealing), and we continued to get into trouble even after Mom adopted us. She did the best she could. We could have turned out a lot worse, believe me. But Jack was just this innocent little boy who had been through so much in his young life. Jerry, Angel, and me went through some bad stuff as well; we also went from foster home to foster home and suffered neglect, emotional, and physical abuse, and we also have scars. But Jack went through far worse than us at his young age, including being sexually abused. Some of the things he went through included not given anything to eat, hit until he was unconscious, burned with cigarettes, locked in closets and dark basements, suffering a broken arm and not being taken to the hospital for days, locked outside in the cold, beaten with belts and fists until he bled, and being molested almost every day for two years. The foster father who sexually abused Jack was a drug addict that would bring men to molest Jack for money so he could buy drugs. In the foster homes he lived at he was also severely emotionally abused and told on a daily basis that he was worthless, useless, bad, and that nobody wanted him. The foster dad who molested him would constantly tell him that he was dirty and bad.
Jerry, Angel, and I dealt with the pain of being abused by acting out, and getting involved in illegal things; that is how we dealt with the pain. We acted out our anger and pain. Jack, on the other hand, became scared and traumatized by the abuse, and turned the pain inward on himself, often turning to drinking, drugs and cutting to try to forget the pain of his childhood, even attempting suicide once. He suffered from PTSD (which included nightmares, flashbacks, and detaching himself) depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. He also had difficulty kissing or being with a girl. Despite having gone through so much, his fucked up childhood did not take away his innocence and goodness. Despite the horrors he went through, he remained good. He is the most good out of the four of us.
When Jack first came to live with us, he eventually started feeling more comfortable around Jerry, Angel, and me, speaking to us, and trusting us more. We took him places, the park, the zoo, the fair, and the toy store. We taught him to swim, ride a bike, and how to play hockey. We had snowball fights with him, read to him, and helped him with his homework, well, mostly Jerry did, I am not the scholar of the family and neither is Angel. Later as he got older, we taught him to drive, took him to get his first tattoo, and I even gave him "the talk". He had missed out on so much because of his fucked up childhood and had so much catching up to do. We wanted him to experience what any kid should be able to experience. He had gone through so much as a kid, all he knew was being abused, and he never had a chance to be a kid. We wanted him to have fun, laugh, and just be a kid. We would do anything to make him smile, especially me. I loved to see him smile, still do. I hate seeing him sad, and when he is sad, I will usually do whatever it takes to see him smile again.
We were happy to be able to experience so many firsts with him, his first time going to the zoo, having a snowball fight, riding a bike, decorating a Christmas tree, his first birthday party, going trick-or-treating, and even something as small as him having hot chocolate for the first time.
For some reason, Jack took to me the most. Don't ask me why. I ain't no role model. "You don't have to be perfect to be a role model", Ma told me. And trust me, I am beyond perfect. I have been to jail several times, carry a gun, am feared by most, and have sent several people to the hospital after beating them to a pulp.
When Jack first came to live with us he started following me everywhere, and became my shadow. "There's your shadow" Jerry and Angel would tell me. Everywhere I went he was there. Sometimes, I would catch him just watching me. Watching everything I did. I didn't mind. I actually liked having him around, and teaching him things. He would imitate me, and try to be like me. I would let him wear my jacket sometimes, and he would put it on and slick his hair back to look like me. It was pretty funny. The kid idolized me (still does he says) don't ask me why. He told me that it was because I was so strong and tough; he wanted to be just like me. I was the one who usually comforted him when he had a nightmare and stayed with him. He told me that when I stayed in his room at night, I made him feel safe and protected and that his foster father (the sick fuck who molested him who if I ever see, I would not hesitate to put a bullet through his skull) would not come in his room at night if I was there to protect him. One night, when he was screaming in the middle of the night because he was having a nightmare about that sick fuck coming into his room at night and molesting him, and had asked me to stay with him and sleep in his bed, I held him close to my chest and he could hear my heart beating. I told him, you hear that Jackie, as long as that's beating, no one's going to hurt you again. After a nightmare, Jack would also come running into one of our rooms in the middle of the night, crying, and asking to sleep in our bed, "I had a bad dream, he came into my room and touched me", he would say crying. Of course we always let him. Although they are not as frequent as before, Jack still suffers from nightmares until this day. I like to fool myself into thinking that the past and what he went through as a kid is behind him now, but I know that it may never be behind him, and may always be with him. "It's always there, it never goes away", he would tell me. "Will it ever go away" he would ask me. "I don't know Jackie, some of it might", I would say, I really did not know what to tell him.
Jack thought of me as a superhero. He even asked me once if I was a superhero. I'm not a superhero I said. But you are strong and have muscles like a superhero he said. Jack was fascinated with superheroes when he was younger, especially with the ones that could fly. I think it had something to do with him wishing he could fly so he could escape from the foster homes where he suffered abused.
I always felt like something was missing before Jack came to live with us. And felt like he completed our family. He brought a certain joy to our lives, and our lives would not be the same without him. Jerry, Angel, an me were really happy the day he officially became a Mercer and Mom presented him with the adoption certificate, but he was our brother long before any paper confirmed it.
Jack crept his way into my heart right away and I instantly felt protective of him. We balanced each other out, me protecting him, and him helping calm me. He gave me a purpose and brought meaning to my life, he needed me, and I needed him too. He brought out this other side of me that I never knew existed, a calmer, softer, gentler, side. I also watched what I said and did more, tried not to get into so much trouble, and not land in jail so much. He needed me and I wanted to be there for him. I also had to learn to be very patient with Jack, and people who know me will tell you, I am not a very patient guy. I am the guy that solves problems with his fists and not by talking. I believe that all problems should be solved with fists. But with Jack, I had to learn to talk to him instead of using my fists. He tested my patience many times, and there were several times that I wanted to use my fists on him, especially when he was a teenager and would talk back to me or act out, or when I caught him smoking or doing drugs. But I had to learn to remain calm and control myself with him, and talk things out instead of using my fists.
I am not a guy that shows emotions or is good talking about feelings. Jack is very sensitive and is able to show emotions, talk about his feelings, and even cry (although I sometimes call him a fairy for showing his emotions). I on the other hand, would never let anyone, especially my younger brothers see me cry. I want them to see me like the strong on one, and the one that they can rely on for anything. I sometimes wish I could be more like Jack, and show my emotions more. I admire that about him. I also wish I could be as kind and caring as he is.
Jack was very different than Jerry and Angel, and I had to treat him differently than I did them. I could not be as rough with him as I was with them. Jerry, Angel, and me usually resolved problems with our fists. We would never hurt each other too badly, but there were times that we did give each other some bruises. I love all my brothers the same. I love Jerry and Angel to death. But Jerry and Angel always could take care of themselves. They did not need me to protect them, and were as good at fighting as me. Jerry, Angel, and me used to get into a lot of trouble together. Get into fights, deal drugs, steal, steal cars, and hussle, which landed us in jail several times. Jack wanted to be just like us, and when he got older he started asking to come with us. But we never let him. There was no way we were going to let him get involved in the same things we did. He would get mad at us and ask us why we wouldn't let him come along and that why we did not include him; that he felt excluded. We explained to him, that he was not like us; he was a good person and that despite his fucked up childhood, he had remained a good person. I also had my other reasons to not involve him in the things we did; there was this innocence about him, and I wanted him to preserve that innocence and remain the good person he was. We also did not want him getting hurt. Who cares if we got hurt, but we would not be able to live with ourselves if Jack got hurt. Our number one priority as his big brothers is to protect him.
Jack hates yelling, fighting and violence. He experienced a lot of yelling, fighting and violence in the foster homes he lived at, which caused him to become traumatized. But of course, being around me, he picked up a thing or two. I taught him how to fight, taught him some boxing moves (I know how to box). I even taught him how to shoot a gun, just in case. He was so scared when he held a gun in his hand for the first time that his hand was shaking. I could not blame him for being scared, his stepfather shot and killed his biological mom in front of him when he was only four. Like I said, Jack does not like to fight, and will only fight if he is provoked and forced to fight.
I love all my brothers just the same, but Jack and I, we have this special bond with each other. Something about being the oldest and youngest, I guess. They say the oldest and the youngest usually have a special bond. But it's also because I know that Jack relies on me a lot and needs me more that Jerry and Angel do, and needs me to protect him. I love my family fiercely, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for them, for my mother, my brothers, and especially Jack. I would die for him, and would kill anyone that ever laid a hand on him. Sometimes he gets mad at me for being too overprotective of him, and says that I treat him like a little kid, but I can't help it. He is my baby brother, and I will always be protective of him. All three of us are very protective of Jack and that will never change.
Jack is a lot different from us in the way he wears his hair, dresses, and the type of music he likes. We often tease him about it. We tease him about his hair and tight clothes. We also tease him about liking heavy metal instead of rap like we do. We call the music he likes noise, and I tease him about making a racket on his guitar. I must admit that when he would be locked up in his room all day playing that damn guitar, there were times I wanted to throw it out the fucking window and send him after it. Ironically, I was the one to get him his first guitar. He was ten and I took him to a music shop and when he saw the electric guitars, his face lit up. He went over to one of the guitars and started strumming it. A few days later, I bought it for him and gave it to him on Christmas. I have never seen him so happy. Jack loves music and music is his escape and a way to express himself. The first time, my brothers and I went to see one of his shows we were in awe of him. Although, it was not the type of music we liked, we had to admit that Jack was a really good singer and guitar player. Man, how he played that guitar, it was amazing. We were so proud of him. And you could feel the emotion in his voice when he sang the songs that he had written. He sang of pain and being abused as a kid, he also sang about cutting and doing drugs as a way to deal with the pain of what had happened to him as a kid. Some of the songs were difficult for us to hear, but we knew that singing those songs was like therapy for him; a release for him, and that he wanted others that were going through the same thing to know that they were not alone. We also knew that when he was on stage, he was free, and could forget the pain of his childhood when he was on stage. He is the rock star of the family. We know he is talented enough, and has the potential to become famous someday. That is his dream, to be a famous rock star. We will always support him in his dream, and we hope that his dream of becoming a famous rock star comes true someday.
Jack got bullied, called gay and beat up a lot in high school because of his hair, clothes, the type of music he likes, and for being different (My brothers and me had to beat up a lot of guys during his time in high school). But he never stopped wearing his hair or the way he did or dressing differently. He continued to be who he was. We admired him for that. It takes a lot of courage to be who you are.
He often tells us that he is not strong like us, and wishes he was strong and tough like us. I always tell him that he is the strongest person I know. He went through so much as a kid yet he survived. He is a survivor and that takes a lot of strength.
He often feels that he lets me down when he loses a fight, that despite me spending hours teaching him how to fight; he loses a fight. He feels that I am disappointed in him when he loses a fight and wants me to be proud of him. I tell him that he could never disappoint me, and that I am proud of him for trying and never backing down from a fight. He hates fighting and despite what he went through as a kid, he never backs down from a fight, and gives it his best. I am proud of him for that. I am proud of him whether he wins or loses a fight. And when he does lose a fight, we go out and beat the shit out of whoever laid a hand on him.
Jack is a compassionate, kind, and gentle person. It shows in his gentle eyes and smile. He has a huge heart. He cares about everybody and has a lot of compassion for people. He is always thinking of others instead of himself. If he sees a homeless person on the street, he will stop and give them some money. He can't stand to see anyone suffering or in pain, especially kids, and particularly kids that have gone through the same thing he has. One time Mom brought home a foster kid to stay with us for a few days that was going to be adopted by a couple. Jack was so concerned about him. He kept asking Mom over and over again, "Are you sure he's going to a good home Mom?" "Are you sure they are good people". He did not want any kid to go through the same thing he had gone through as a kid. "Yes, sweetheart", Mom reassured him. He was so nice to the kid; talked to the kid, played video games and watched movies with him. He even let him play his guitar and made him a necklace out of one of his guitar picks and gave it to him. I don't think there is anyone that dislikes Jack. Jack is the type of person that will give you the shirt off his back. He is very giving. I will never forget the time when he gave me a hockey jersey signed by Gretzky for my birthday. He saved up money for months from his gigs to buy it for me. It must have cost him a fortune, but he told me that he wanted to give me something special because of all that I had done for him. He is a very grateful person and is so grateful for everything he has, especially his family. He does sometimes feel like he doesn't deserve to be loved and have a family. He was told so many times by countless people that he was worthless and bad, and didn't deserve to be loved and have a family. I have to constantly remind him that he is a good person and deserves to be loved, and have a family. "But I am a bad person, he'll say. I'm always fucking up, disappointing, and worrying my family. I finally have something good and I always ruin it. You guys are always cleaning up my messes and getting me out of trouble, I don't deserve Mom or you guys" he tells me. I tell him that he is not a bad person, and that some of the things he does, like cutting, drinking, and doing drugs are not his fault, that they are the result of the abuse he suffered as a kid. Yes, he would skip school sometimes and get detention for being caught smoking, but that is nothing compared to the things I did when I was his age. "I am the bad person, not you, I have done a lot of bad things in my life" I tell him. "You are not a bad person", he tells me. "If you were such a bad person, then how come you took care of me as a kid, taught me things, listen to me when I have a problem, protect me, and are always there for me" he says.
The first time I found Jack cutting he was fourteen. When I saw him sitting on the floor in the corner of his room with a razor blade pressed to his wrist and he had cuts on both wrists that were bleeding, I was angry at him. I had a hard time understanding why he would do that to himself. "I do it to feel better", he told me. "You cut yourself to feel better? I don't understand" I said. "I do it because it helps me not to think of the pain I feel inside" he said. I tried to understand, I really did. "Please don't tell Mom", he pleaded with me. "I have to", I said. "What if one day you cut too deep?" "I'm careful not to", he said. "What if one day you do cut too deep, then what?" "What if you get an infection?" I said. After I cleaned and bandaged his cuts, I was so worried about him that I told Ma, and she had a long talk with him. I could not help but overhear their conversation. Mom was hugging Jack as he cried. "I just want the pain to go away", he told her. "I know you do sweetheart, but there are healthier ways to deal with pain", she said. "Like what?" Jack asked her. "Like talking to me or one of your brothers when something is bothering you" she said "I also think it would help if you went back to therapy". "No please Mom", he pleaded. Although Jack was not happy about attending therapy, Mom put him back in therapy. Whenever he wore short sleeved shirts, he would put on these black leather wrist bands on his wrists to cover up the scars. When he took the wristbands off to go to sleep, and after he had fallen asleep, I would check to see if there were any new cuts on his wrists. Other times, I would ask him to remove them so I could check. Sometimes he refused, and I would go ahead and remove them myself.
Jack often turned to drugs to deal with the pain of the abuse he suffered. Jerry, Angel, and me did a lot of bad shit when we were younger, but we were not into doing drugs. Angel and me did try drugs a few times, but we never did them again. One of Jerry's foster fathers got him addicted to drugs when he was in foster care, but when he came to live with Ma and me, he immediately stopped doing drugs. Jack on the other hand, would skip school to drink and get high. I would find him and drag his ass home. Other times, when he didn't come home, we would go out looking for him and find him strung out at a drug dealer's house with me putting a gun to the dealer's head threatening to kill him if he ever sold drugs to Jack again. I was determined to threaten every drug dealer in Detroit if I had to. One of the scariest times for us was when Jack was fifteen and got beaten up badly because he owed his dealer money (my brothers and me took care of the dealer and his thugs) that he ended up in the hospital, or the time when he was sixteen, and he was taken away in an ambulance because he almost overdosed. After he almost overdosed, Mom sent him to rehab. I searched him and his room regularly for drugs, and when I found out that he had skipped school or escaped through his bedroom window to go buy drugs, I would go find him and drag him back home. I did anything I could; I was not going to let him die.
Jack has many good qualities, to which he will never admit to. He is very humble, and sells himself short. "I don't have any good qualities" he'll say. Yet he writes, writes his own songs, plays the electric guitar really well, sings, plays hockey well, is a good cook, is a good brother, son, brother in law, friend, uncle, is caring, smart, kind, funny, really funny, he makes us laugh a lot ….I could go on and on.
Yes, he's annoying sometimes. All little brothers are. Yes, he can be a brat sometimes, but he's the baby, he's supposed to be a brat. Yes, he's quiet, shy, moody and stubborn, did I mention stubborn, and he uses too much hair gel, and spends too much time fixing that mess that he calls hair. Yes, he smokes too much (which I want to kick his ass for, and am always trying to get him to quit), and he's way too skinny. I'm always bugging him to eat more and put more weight on. Yes, he never wears a coat, and wears a thin leather jacket and fingerless gloves even in twenty degree weather which drives me insane. Yes, I'm always trying to toughen him up and make a man out of him. And being the youngest, yes we tease him a lot, especially me, but that's what older brothers do, they tease their younger brother. We call him Cracker Jack. I call him fairy, little fairy, Tinkerbell, princess, pretty boy, Jackie O, sweetheart, and little sister, but that's how I show my love for him; I am not one to show my emotions. It bothers him sometimes when I tease him, but he knows I tease him because I love him and that's how I show my love for him.
The first time I called Jack a fairy, he was eight. He was watching the movie Peter Pan, and flying around the room like Tinkerbell. I told him that he was a fairy like Tinkerbell, and that he even looked like her with his blonde hair. "I'm not a fairy", he said. Of course, at eight, he did not know what the word "fairy" meant. The word did not take on another meaning until he got older. After I called him a fairy, he got so mad at me that he kicked me in the nuts, and started hitting and kicking me; he lunged at me and I pretended to fall on the floor. It was the only fight I ever allowed myself to lose. I was not even mad at him. I was glad to finally get a reaction out of him and that he had finally stood up for himself.
I also tease Jack about being gay, but I know he's not gay. Trust me I'm his brother, I would know. I do it because it bothers him, and I enjoy teasing him. He is sensitive and takes everything to heart. He is easily bothered by my teasing, but he knows I do it because I love him. Even if he were gay, I would still accept him.
Mom once told me that Jack considered me a father figure. I was surprised when she told me that he considered me a father figure. "But I'm not his father, I told her, "I am his brother". "Yes, he knows you are his brother, she told me, but you are the closest thing to a father figure he's got". Being twelve years older than him, I guess I am a father figure to him. I must admit that I, along with my other two brothers helped raise him, and I tried to give him all the knowledge of a father, from teaching him that a man does not run away from his problems and faces them, to how to fix a car and shooting a gun.
My little brother Jack, I love him so much, and I can't imagine my life without him. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to him.