Hey, ! I know you guys are probably wondering why I'm starting another story on top of All But One Got Away, well the answer to that is... I had an idea and I felt like writing it too. I figured that I could alternate days for updating, therefore keeping a steady stream of chapters for both stories. So, without further ado, here is What if the Train Doesn't Make It.
-Hayd
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or any of the characters. All rights go to Disney.
He had been so close. All he had needed was a few more seconds.
A few more seconds for the bottle of Ativan to calmly float him away.
A few more seconds for his vision to go completely dark.
A few more seconds for his last breath to leave his quivering lips.
But he hadn't gotten those few seconds; because just as his breathing hitched and the dark spots started to spread across his vision, James had walked into his room. Somewhere in his dying mind, Jack kicked himself, he should've locked the door. His foster dad's eyes widened in panic as he took in Jack twitching on the floor, eyes clouded over, the brand new Ativan bottle lying empty beside him, cap tossed away and contents gone. The older man fumbled for his phone, frantically hitting 9-1-1 while running over to Jack. James held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, gently slapping the sides of Jack's face, trying to elicit a reaction.
"Jack! Jack, can you hear me? Stay with me. Why the hell Jack?! WHY" The words sounded garbled and far away in Jack's mind as he stared straight ahead, begging for the pain-killers to work faster and just end it all. His vision faded to black as his blurry vision registered four men charging through the doorway, a stretcher between them.
Jack opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again, the harsh, bright lights proving too much for his eyes. His chest slowly rose and fell. Jack groaned. He'd failed. Again. No matter how hard he tried, something always got in the way of his attempts to end his life. And each time, his foster parents practically threw him back to the system. No one wanted a kid this messed up. Jack wondered if James had already given him back and the next person to walk through that door would be child services, ready to take him back to the lodging house.
He tried opening his eyes again, slower this time, flinching at the light. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his skull pounding. He felt nauseous. They'd pumped his stomach. They'd done it before, the first two times he'd attempted with pills, sticking a tube down his throat and sucking out his most recent effort to leave the world for good.
Jack surveyed the white room around him, taking in the two windows with the blinds closed, the cushy chairs beside his bed, meant for when the patient actually had a family who cared. He caught sight of his red suitcase resting against the wall. He'd been right; James had thrown him back too, Jack didn't blame him like he said, no one wanted a kid this messed up. He was still staring at the suitcase when a man in a white coat walked in, the doctor.
"Ah Mr. Kelly, it's good to see you awake," Jack grunted in response, hoping the doctor would catch the difference in opinion.
"I'm doctor Anderson. I've been in charge of your ...ah...treatment here." Jack remained silent. Dr. Anderson adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat before looking down at the clipboard in his hand,
"Listen, Mr. Kelly...Jack, it says here on your file that this is the 8th time that you've attempted something like this, and the third time you've used medication." The doctor said gently.
"Yeah and the 8th foster family that gave me back but hey who's counting," Jack replied dryly, gesturing to the suitcase against the wall, "So, I'm guessing it's back to the lodging house, where I'll stay until another family takes me. Then, it's only a matter of time until they discover just how screwed up I really am and hand me back. Then we repeat. Correct?" Dr. Anderson adjusted his glasses again awkwardly, before sighing and looking back up at Jack,
"Actually, I'm afraid not. I spoke with the director of the lodging house and we've both agreed that what is best for you is somewhere where there'll be people to watch over you. Somewhere more...secure, for lack of better word." Jack's shoulders dropped,
"You're locking me up. You're locking me up like some crazy person!" Dr. Anderson cringed slightly,
"...No, we're sending you to a psychiatric ward. It's what's best for you! There will be supervision, therapy, and other kids just like you." Jack laughed and swung his feet around the side of the bed, sliding off. He pulled out the I.V in his hand, ignoring Dr. Anderson's protests. He walked over to his suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, despite it being the beginning of May. As Jack changed, Dr. Anderson continued to talk,
"We were informed that all your belongings are already with you so you'll be going straight to the facility. It's called World Mental Institute and Boarding, and it's run by a Mr. Joseph Pulitzer. A car will be here in about 30 minutes to pick you up, as your release forms were already signed." Dr. Anderson looked back up at Jack, who, after changing, was now slumped in one of the chairs, looking at him with a blank yet defeated expression. Jack tossed his hands in the air,
"Whatever." Dr. Anderson sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could do, and he left the room, leaving Jack alone to wait.
1 Hour Later
Jack was once again slumped in a chair, this time it being one of the waiting room chairs in the Psych ward, suitcase next to him, waiting to be called. He rolled up his left sleeve and ran his fingers along the scars that he knew ran all the way up his arms and beyond, fingers tracing the smooth, elevated tissue that 3 out of 8 attempts as well as the constant need to feel something left him with. He quickly rolled his sleeve back down when he heard the sound of multiple locks clicking and the double doors to his left opened, revealing a young, red-haired nurse, her hair pulled back by a bow. Jack sat up, looking at her plainly,
"Hello Mr. Kelly my name is Katherine Plumber and I'm one of the nurses here at the World. Would you like to follow me to your room and I'll give you a brief tour of the building." She said cheerfully. Jack stood, grabbing his suitcase,
"I don't really got a choice now do I?" He replied sarcastically before moving past her,
"And it's Jack, by the way." He said over his shoulder before starting down the hallway. Katherine jogged to catch up to him before slowing to a walking pace, staying a few feet in front of him. They walked down a long hallway that branched off in different directions.
"Down there is our recreation room. It's where most of the other patients go to hang out.' Katherine gestured to where the hallway branched off and voices could be heard talking and laughing.
"Straight forward at the very end is the dining hall, and you'll be expected to attend every meal, three times a day, seven days a week. the therapists' rooms are scattered all around, but you'll be escorted to those sessions so you don't need to worry. And here we are," Katherine stopped at a cluster of doors. They looked like bedroom doors, with names written in dry erase marker on a mini whiteboard on the doors. Katherine walked up to one that only had one name written on it and took out a dry erase marker, writing "Jack Kelly" underneath the first name before opening the door. Jack walked in the surprisingly spacious room, noticing that one of the beds was obviously claimed by the other boy who's name was written on the door. Jack made his way to the unclaimed bed, laying his suitcase at the foot of the bed. He turned back toward Katherine, jamming his hands in his pockets to show that he was done.
"You don't want to unpack? You probably want to make yourself at home." Katherine suggested slowly. Jack shrugged,
"All I got is clothes. Sorry to disappoint. And listen, Ms. Plumber, I appreciate the sympathy but I don't need to be here, so if you could just take me back to the front, I'll call Kloppman to come pick me up. " He replied. Katherine sighed,
"Well you see Jack, I've read your file. 8 suicide attempts? Mr. Kelly, it is good that you are here because we're trying to help you and unless you can get a legal guardian to sign you out, you aren't going anywhere soon." Katherine put her hands on her hips, knowing as well as Jack did that Kloppman wasn't going to sign him out. Jack sighed, defeated.
Katherine perked up like she had remembered something suddenly, and she held out her hand expectantly. Jack just stared at it, confused.
"I need your shoelaces, belt, hoodie strings, and anything sharp that you may have brought with you. It's standard procedure and I can't have you trying to add a 9th attempt to your chart." Jack pressed his lips together tightly before reluctantly handing over his belt, laces, hoodie strings from his sweatshirt, and a safety pin from his pocket. Katherine took them with a small "thank you" before turning to leave.
"Come on Mr. Kelly, let's go see if we can find one of the guys to show you the rest of the way around." Jack sighed but followed her anyway, shutting the door behind him. They walked down the hallway again, this time turning at random times when it branched off. They continued for what seemed like forever before Jack saw a blond boy walking toward them. Jack noticed that the boy's walk was unbalanced and shaky, before discovering as he got closer, that the boy was relying heavily on the support of a crutch tucked under his right arm. He stopped in front of them, a smile on his face.
"Heya ms. Katherine! It sure is great to see you." He said cheerfully. Katherine smiled back at him,
"Well hello there Mr. Morris, it's great to see you too." Jack shifted his weight back and forth awkwardly. The boy turned toward him, the back toward Katherine,
"Who's this?" He asked, that smile still on his face. What's got this kid so happy? Jack wondered incredulously.
"This is Jack Kelly. He just arrived today." The boy turned to Jack and stuck out his left hand,
"Crutchie Morris. It's real nice to meet you, Jack!" Jack sheepishly shook Crutchie's hand, sticking his hand back into his pockets afterward. Katherine looked at Crutchie,
"Hey, can you do me a favor? I need someone to take Jack down to the Rec Room, maybe introduce him to some of the others. Could you do that?" She asked. Crutchie nodded happily,
"Of course I'd be happy to introduce him to some of the fellas! I'm sure they'll be happy to see a new face!" He replied. Katherine smiled and thanked him before hurrying away, leaving the two boys in the hall.
Crutchie began to limp down the hallway in the opposite direction,
"Come one! Rec Room's this way" He laughed. Jack nodded and began to walk alongside him silently, observing the boy. Crutchie was wearing a pair of sweatpants with an extremely baggy t-shirt. In fact, it looked like it was at least three sizes too large. Aside from that, a grey beanie covered part of his dirty blond hair, and he still had that grin on his face. Jack wondered what he was there for, but knew it would be rude to ask. As they walked, Crutchie talked about the other guys in the hospital.
"They's a little rough around the edges but trust me, they's all great fellas." He reassured Jack, who tugged at his sleeves out of habit, in a way making sure that his scars wouldn't show. They stopped at a pair of double doors that were already open, and Crutchie led Jack inside. Jack looked around the Rec Room, taking in the big room. He saw couches spread out around the room and a coffee table that was hosting a card game. One of the guys playing cards, a boy with auburn hair, looked up from his hand,
"Hey, Crutchie you're back! Who's the kid you got witchya?" He asked. Crutchie adjusted his crutch, steadying himself,
"This here's Jack! Ms Plumber says he just got here today." Crutchie announced, drawing the attention of the other guys in the room. The boy with auburn hair stood up and walked over, extending his hand,
"The name's Racetrack. Race for short. Welcome to the family Jack." Jack shook his hand, relieved that it was going pretty well.
'So," Race began, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, "whatcha in for?" he asked Jack. The other guys in the room all quieted down, interested to see what would happen. Jack impulsively tugged at his sleeves,
"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not say. But just know I don't plan on bein here long" He replied, trying to brush it off. Race smirked,
"Oh sure, you don't. But you will be here for a while; that's what this place is. It's for the kids who need a bit longer than the average crazie, the real messed up ones" He winked. A boy with dark brown hair who had been reading on one of the couches put down his book,
"Be nice Race. The kid's new, and I bet he didn't sign up for this, so don't make it worse." He scolded before nodding politely at Jack, "I'm Davey"
Jack nodded back in greeting. The other boys went around the room introducing themselves. There was a blond boy with glasses called specs, two twins called Mush and Sniper, a younger boy, around thirteen, who's name was Romeo, as well as several others by the names of Finch, Kid Blink, and Albert, Henry, and Elmer. Jack was running through all the names in his head when a chime sounded over the intercom. All the boys stood up and Crutchie turned to Jack,
"That's lunch." He began to limp toward to doorway, "You comin'?"