Hey there guys! Some of you might recognise this story from when I had it up as a Shake it up! story, but I wasn't feeling it for that archive, so I posted it under Jack and Jerry with some minor alterations though. ;)
Now, this story is about bullying/abuse/eating disorders/self-harming, etc, etc, so if this isn't your thing, turn away now, or if you're hesitant about it, give it a chance. You never know, you might like it. Came out a bit wrong, but I meant the story concept, not the bad things. :)
This story is a Jarry story, but Jack doesn't come in right away, and it's AU so they don't know each other. It's gonna be a crazy ride, but I hope you'll join me. Remember to review and I'll need over eight for an update since this story's only gonna have a few chapters and I need support regardless. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Kickin' it and if I did, Jack and Jerry would be dating. Nuff said. :)
Jerry stared ahead of him, his brown eyes locking onto the pale, tired-looking boy in the mirror wearing the Bobby Wasabi Karate gi. He was immediately horrified by the sight; horrified by the deathly pallor his skin held and horrified by the dark circles resting under his eyes, but he knew it was him.
He - usually the life of the Dojo and always putting smiles on people's faces - was the bruised, battered and broken boy looking out from the mirror, desperately trying to break free, but Jerry wouldn't allow him to see anything that could threaten to spill his darkest secrets into the reality of the world.
Jerry's eyes widened in horror as purple swelling bruises began to materialize on the face of the boy in front of him. He resisted the urge to have a hand fly up to his cheek, as he knew it was his subconsciousness playing horrifying tricks on him, preying on his many weaknesses.
What was everyone's problem with him? Why couldn't they just leave him be? Why did they have to pounce on him at every chance and squash him into the ground? Why did they always have to make him feel worthless and unappreciated? And worst of all, why did he believe them?
Quickly darting his head around to see if Kim, Eddie, Milton or Rudy had came into the locker room, Jerry absent-mindedly pulled up the sleeve of his gi, and revealed a macabre work of art, the artist - his peer group.
Bruises were dotted up and down his arm - the one that was covered held identical bruises - leaving virtually no natural colored skin to the imagination. Jerry bit his lower lip nervously and ran his index finger diligently over the bruises.
He looked at his reflection, and saw dark red blood dribbling forth from his nose. Finally breaking the mask of calm serenity he'd worn so much recently, Jerry's hand instantly flew to his upper lip. He felt relieved, like a huge weight was lifted from his body, that there was not a single trace of blood.
Jerry took a deep breath, and composed himself once more, masking the fear his eyes held. What had he done to deserve this? He had been a good person. Maybe he was just dealt the unlucky hand in life and was swarmed with horrors that people around him could scarcely imagine.
Or maybe he deserved it.
"Jerry, come on, the tournament's starting in twenty minutes!" Rudy's voice broke into his silent reviere, and everything came flooding back to him at once. Sounds of everyone's equipment bags rustling - Milton was complaining his jockstrap was too tight and Kim was refusing point-blank to help him with it - and the steady humming of Rudy's car that was parked outside.
He yanked his sleeve down, the speed rivalling that of lightning as he locked away the torment that he was suffering from any eyes that could seek out his vulnerability and exploit his weaknesses; manipulate his deepest fears and shatter his psyche.
"Be there in a sec, yo!" Jerry called through the locker room door. He could hear Kim giggling and he could no doubt picture Rudy murmuring about being late and throwing a temper tantrum, but lately all laughter felt like it was being aimed at him.
He quickly adjusted his cuffs, making sure they fit tightly enough around his bony wrists to hide his bruises. They were literally the fine line that his fate rested on right in that moment. They would decide whether he could go another day masking his pain, or whether he would inadvertently expose it and spill his secrets.
He plastered a cheery smile on his face, tightened his green belt, and walked out of the locker room. Everyone smiled at him whilst Rudy was ushering them all out the door. As Jerry piled into the car with everyone else, he was glad no-one would be observant enough to notice it didn't quite meet his eyes.
But then again, no-one was observant enough to notice that he had became more deflated and stopped dancing or being as living. He had stopped eating as much and had became pale, ragged and thin, even thinner than Milton. It was a miracle half of his clothes still fit him and didn't hang off his body.
They pulled up outside the Black Dragon Dojo and walked inside. It hadn't changed much since the last time Jerry had been there, although some of the students - the one's who frequently picked on him were currently making crude hand gestures towards him - had gotten stronger.
Jerry seated himself on the bench with the others, while Rudy and Ty were struggling not to argue with each other for their civil handshake. They gave up halfway through, walking back to their fighters with peeved looking expressions. It made Jerry smile a little; they really couldn't set everything aside and start afresh, could they?
"Welcome to the international Karate Promotional Tournament!" the announcer boomed into the microphone, making everyone cheer and hoot loudly. "First up from the Bobby Wasabi Dojo, going for his blue belt, is Jerry Martinez..." The man's voice became drowned out as loud cheers and wolf-whistles echoed in his head.
Kim smiled at him warmly, rubbing his shoulder as the cheers continued to flourish even though the man had stopped speaking. Jerry knew this was really the only time he could do something other than look like a blind gazelle during training, so he was determined to fight his hardest in his match. This was finally a time to give them a little taste of their own medicine and leave them with bruises.
Jerry got up off the bench and walked towards the ring, bowing to his opponent. As he saw who it was - a purple belt, one of Frank's nameless lackey's he had seen - he put all the abuse he'd been suffering at the back of his mind.
"Fight!" the referee lifted his hand and Jerry was instantaneously knocked backwards with a front-kick to the stomach. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to roll backwards, back onto his feet. Everyone on his side cheered and sighed in relief.
Jerry put his fists up, bouncing lightly around his opponent while he stared him down. He calmed himself down and tried to think of the many ways Kim had been teaching him on how to flip someone. He knew he could do it, he just needed the opportunity to show itself.
It came when his opponent raised his leg to kick him. Jerry cleverly side-stepped, and just like he had predicted, a punch came flying forwards. Jerry grabbed it and, trying to remember what Kim had said, swiftly slipped underneath his arm so he was behind him, yanking it down and thus, flipping him.
He landed on his back with a pained grunt, unable to get back up. Jerry felt a huge smile burst onto his face, a genuine one. It had actually worked! He didn't think it would have, but he had seen Kim do it enough times. He had just needed to believe in himself and do it.
The cheers from his side were deafening as the referee declared him winner and it made him feel appreciated for a single second, instead of embarrassed and degraded. He and his opponent bowed to each other respectfully, before walking back to their benches. The minute he was within distance, he was swarmed by celebratory hugs and pats on the back.
"Jerry you did it!" Milton clapped, thumping him hard - as hard as Milton could - on the back.
"That was incredible!" Kim squealed happily, throwing her arms around him once more. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from making a sound as Kim's arms were touching some particularly nasty bruises.
"Why can't you be more like that everyday?!" Rudy said happily, an enthusiastic grin on his face. That made Jerry freeze up suddenly; he knew Rudy had meant well by that and would never try to hurt him intentionally, but it still hurt. He knew he wasn't good enough in classes, but it was only because his bruises and just the general weight of everything was weighing him down.
When the rest of the tournament was over - Milton didn't get his yellow belt this time, although it was a bonus he didn't win it and then lose it, Eddie got his orange belt and Kim had only fought for the hell of it; she needed a different type of test if she wanted her second degree black belt - Rudy and Ty went up to each other, starting out with a civil handshake, but then it turned into a game of 'Who can break whose hand first?' and childish bickering which Kim and Julie had to pull them both away from.
"Jerry, do you wanna go to Phil's with us?" Kim asked with a smile. Jerry couldn't help but feel like every smile he was getting was fake, either way he knew it wouldn't last long and that he would be back to the bumbling gazelle tomorrow at the Dojo.
"No thanks." He shook his head. He didn't feel hungry at all, which was strange because he hadn't eaten anything at all today, or yesterday... "I'm beat, yo. I'm just gonna head on home and hit the hay." He smiled half-heartedly, hoping he came across as tired and not shady or suspicious.
"But you've got your blue belt dude!" Eddie exclaimed suddenly, making everyone else chuckle. "Time to par-tay," he said, miming a little dance. Jerry just knew he was hungry and wanted to hurry up and get to Phil's.
"Just wrap up your leftovers for me," he said feigning a smile, yawning to emphasise his tiredness.
"Alright." Rudy smiled at him, he didn't suspect a thing. Jerry found himself getting frustrated, yet he was relieved at the same time. It was like he wanted people to notice, yet leave him alone. Was it so bad to want two things that would paradoxically never happen? Especially with friends as loyal as the Wasabi Warriors.
"See you tomorrow." They waved at him before they parted ways, laughing and smiling between them. Jerry didn't want to ruin their celebration by looking like a grump when he would get tired of faking too many smiles.
"Bye," he murmured quietly, unintelligibly. He just wanted to get home and soak his aching muscles in a hot bath and try to sneak the Witch Hazel - his mother swore by it that it was brilliant for bruises and grazes - from the medicine cabinet without having thoughts of killing himself.
Jerry was about to round onto the next street, but stopped abruptly as he heard resounding chatter, and the clinking of beer bottles. Three dark figures stood at the end of the street, and cast large shadows under the dim illuminations of the amber streetlights. He saw the figures nudge each other, before turning in his direction.
He took a deep breath and, deciding hiding would get him nowhere, walked towards the figures, planning to bypass them with his head held high. He felt better for a split second, as he didn't feel afraid anymore. But as each step brought him closer to them, dread began to creep over him again.
It hit him full force in the gut once their faces came into view. Jerry didn't know their names, but he had recognised them around school. The three of them were always in the detention room, and whenever he was there, they would always bombard him with spit balls or crumpled bits of paper - not that Jerry didn't throw anything back - or tease him about anything they could pick up from him.
They were all dressed in roughly the same, black shirt, black leather jacket, ripped blue jeans and fearsome looking Doc Martens. The only difference between them was that one of them, the one in the middle, was wearing a red beanie.
They spotted him, and threw their beer bottles on the ground. They clunked against the concrete, and Jerry almost winced. He didn't know why, but he was afraid. They all formed a fence around her, blocking her way and jeering at her.
One spoke up, his eyes glimmering with excitement, "Hey, hey lookie here, it's the Karate Freak." They had smiles on their faces, but they weren't kind or happy smiles. They were the sickest, most sadistic smiles Jerry had ever seen in his life.
"Can you hear us?" the boy with the red beanie asked him in a falsely sweet tone, as if he was a lost child in the supermarket, making the dread consume even more of Jerry's body. "Are you deaf?!" he yelled suddenly and Jerry had to fight his reaction to jump.
He wasn't going to deny he wasn't scared, he had absolutely no idea of what they wanted with him - for all he knew, it could be something that could land them in jail for the rest of their lives and his body would be found in a gutter the next morning - and his knowledge of self-defence wasn't good enough to protect himself. They were bigger than him, older than him, and certainly stronger than him.
Jerry swallowed hard, forgetting every epithet he had thought about saying as a comeback and brought himself back to the present. He didn't need to anger them further, although he still had no idea of what he'd actually done to them in the first place. Looked at them when walking to class probably.
"N-no," his voice came out as a stutter, like he was a broken record and he nearly slapped himself on the face.
As they laughed heartily, mockingly at him, he brushed his fear off and held firm, locking his gaze onto each of the three boys in turn. "Look, I really gotta get home, so..." Jerry's voice trailed off and he made to push past the three boys, but they formed a barrier, and one arm outstretched and pushed him back.
"Don't leave yet, Jerry, the party's just started," the boy who stopped him, probably the leader and the one who orchestrated this, spoke up. Jerry's insides knotted and he felt bile boiling away in his throat, he knew that whatever their idea of a party was, it wasn't going to be good.
"And you're the guest of honour," one said. They broke out into guffaws, but it didn't make them any less terrifying. Jerry thought of making a run for it, but even if he could escape them, there was always the small issue of them catching him.
"Just leave me alone!" his voice raised a few octaves as he yelled at them, taking them all by surprise. Jerry felt relieved that he had said something and hadn't came across as a quiet mouse who must be trodden on.
But his optimism, was short lived.
A fist smashed into his stomach, hard and fast - much too fast for him to think about blocking - knocking all the wind out of him. A shocked groan slipped past his lips and Jerry fell to his knees, mashing the fabric of his gi and the skin it was supposedly protecting into the jagged pavement. Pain throbbed right through his body and Jerry was sure he felt his ribs break, or at the very least, bruise.
Two hands shoved him harshly and he sliced through the air like a bullet, colliding with the pavement once more. They all closed in on him, blocking out his surroundings so that all he could see was a wall of black and shadows around him. He raised his arms in front of his stomach, but it felt useless. He knew they wouldn't be much protection because of the bruises that were already on them.
Without bending down, one of the boys punched him in the side, making him cry out in pain, while the others jeered unintelligible - to his ears - things at him. Jerry tried not to show any sign of weakness, but he knew that once he had been hit, any and all the chances he'd had were gone because he hadn't reacted fast enough.
He whimpered as kicks finally began landing on his body; his arms, legs, sides, stomach, but he was glad they were choosing to avoid his head. It would be extremely hard to think of a convincing lie if he had a large bruise on his face. They were clearly thinking the same thing.
Abuse continued to rain down on him and his screams, yells, whimpers, any sounds of pain being inflicted on him that he made, were either laughed at by the boys, or ignored by anyone who could help him. A pang suddenly ran through him when Jerry realised he hadn't seen anyone out and about. It was extremely late, so only a handful of people would be out at this time.
Another hard kick to his stomach was enough to make him come undone, to scream and beg for his mercy. "Stop it! P-please, it hurts!" The words ripped from his mouth without his consent and the warm breeze around him suddenly changed, getting colder as the boys' abuse seemed to be lifting. Jerry didn't know why, but he felt like he was doomed.
The violent stream of attacks seemed to stop, but the pain was still there, rapidly threatening to make him pass out. A shiver streaked down his backbone, making him shudder and spasm violently as the boys all laughed at him. What little dignity he had, had left, had now been taken away from him.
"Aww, poor boy," one boy's mocking voice broke through the eerie silence that had previously been dominated with the sound of boots hitting skin and cries of pain which went unheard and unnoticed. "You think we should boys?" he asked the other two.
"No!" they shouted, and they set about beating him again.
His screams were becoming a familiar melody to him, as were the sensations of the punches and kicks, only this time they were the hardest they had ever been. Jerry, through all his pain, couldn't believe people so vile could be in existence, and that he was one of the victims. With his spectators and initiator observing silently, smirking as he squirmed and writhed from the pain they inflicted on him.
More kicks from their boots, undoubtedly steel-capped for the occasion, smashed into his body and aggravated the already tender bruises on his arms. The pain continued in waves, consecutively, spreading through him like a wildfire and Jerry cried out again as he felt extremely strong thud to his chest, feeling his heart literally jolt inside his body.
The pain stopped and the pressure on his chest lifted seconds after another boot collided with his stomach and Jerry took in a gasp of much needed air. As his cries of pain dissipated from the air, three sadistic chuckles floated into his ears. He blinked and the tears that he didn't even realise had been brewing behind his eyes, slipped down his cheeks.
"Now that was a fun party," the leader of the group cackled down at him, delivering one last kick to his thighs. "Bye freak." He spat over him. He and the other two boys walked away from him, leaving him to the mercy of the elements.
The boys' chatter and raucous laughter died away as they walked further and further away from Jerry's body. He couldn't move, he was in too much pain. In that instant, he found himself wishing he was dead, so he could spare the humiliation of being found by a stranger and treated like an extremely vicious stray dog.
Jerry shifted his weight, feeling his leg twinge. As a reflex, his body shot forwards towards the source and he whimpered in pain, feeling his back click. He was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow and the worst part, was that everyone would know, but they would take no notice of her.
Jerry truly didn't know what he had done to those boys, but he hated the way they'd treated him, like a piece of meat, a revolting insect that needed to be killed immediately, or a toy that they would play with over and over again until they got bored.
Feeling everything crash down on him all at once - the earlier teasing and insults he'd received at school, and the group assault than a few minutes ago - Jerry felt his bottom lip quiver uncontrollably and tears scorched the corner of his eyes. He blinked and no sooner than the first one fell, did he start to sob uncontrollably. The pain began to register itself with him once more and he felt embargoed, trapped, the slightest little movement hurt him, but Jerry withstood it long enough to collapse his head into his arms.
He was so weak, broken, tearing apart at the already fragmented seams which composed his very being. Jerry found himself wondering how long it would be before he snapped and went into complete depression. But then that made him think of his Mum, Rudy, Milton, Kim and Eddie.
They were none the wiser and that made Jerry sob even harder, the pitiful noises echoing out into the silent night. He knew his mother would be mad at him for not telling her sooner, but then she would be forever checking up on him and she would even go to the school.
Even Jerry, master of bad plans and stupidity, knew that was a bad one. It would only make the bullies more antagonistic towards him and he knew how it would go down anyway. Mr. Buckett would 'keep an eye' out - which was never productive - and as soon as the bullies got him alone and away from it, they would start playing with their little toy again.
Salty tears ran into his parted lips, and he found he didn't have the strength to move his arms to scrub the tears away. Jerry laid there in a ball, throbbing with agony and prayed, wished with every single fibre of his broken, battered being, that someone would take notice, and save him from him despicable torment that he didn't deserve.
He needed a Guardian Angel.
So, did you guys like it? I've gotta warn you though, it only gets darker from here. And remember I did say Jack will come in later, but I'm not saying when because I wanna surprise you all. ;-)
Reviews with your thoughts would be nice please. I need reviews like vampires *cough*and me*cough* need blood. :-P
Peace out guys!