Disclaimer: I do not own StarCraft or any of the characters, ideas, or themes associated with it. However I do own the made up characters and actual content of this piece of fiction, so don't steal them please.
Author's Notes: Keep in mind that the Sarah in this fan-fiction is not Sarah Kerrigan. However, I will most likely write a sequel to explain the differences and whatnot. Enjoy!
These Blood-Stained Hands
Ser'goneth
"Hey you," the rather rotund bakery shop owner shouted, "come back here with my rolls!"
"Blow it out your ear!" the young James Raynor shouted back as he sprinted down the street away from the angry man. Jim, as he was called most often by his friends, was about five feet ten inches tall and had normal hair and a muscular build for his size. Have been orphaned at age six, he had learned the art of theft well. After all, he had to eat. If that meant stealing from others, he was fine with it. He didn't really remember much about his parents. His father had been an abusive alcoholic and his mother a druggie. Neither had had time for him.
One night, his father had been drinking heavily and was hitting his mother as usual and she had pulled a gun and shot him four times. Then she took her own life. Naturally, the Confederacy put Jim in an orphanage and considered their good deed done. But that wasn't quite good enough. The particular orphanage he was placed in had a reputation for abusing the children living there. Jim had put up with it for about two years and then run away. About a week later he was picked up on the street by a group of kids only a few years older than himself. He had been living with them ever since, taking in runaways and other orphans. They were like one big family that looked after each other, living in condemned buildings. It was the only real family Jim had ever had. Now he was nearly eighteen years old and stealing to eat was part of everyday life. Of course, being in the slums, the damn Confederacy really didn't do a damn thing to improve anyone's situation and that was fine by Jim.
Having put some distance between himself and the bakery, Jim slowed to a leisurely walk and took time to enjoy his fresh-baked rolls. A mineral miner passing by gave Jim a grin. "Didn't steal them rolls did'ja, Jimmy?" the miner asked him in amusement. Jim knew the man as Mr. Anderson. He was one of the few who were actually sympathetic to the orphans.
"Oh no, Mr. Anderson, sir," Jim lied with mock-innocence, "wouldn't dream of it." He took a bite from one of the rolls as Mr. Anderson came to a stop beside him. "The Confederacy paid for there, sir."
"Oh, did they now?" the other laughed. "And how do ya' figure that?"
"Well, sir," Jim replied, keeping as straight a a face as he could manage, "I reckon I been livin' on the streets without their help goin' on ten years now. High time they bought me some breakfast." Mr. Anderson just chuckled and shook his head.
"You stay outta trouble, Jimmy," Mr. Anderson warned as he started downt he road again.
"Oh always, sir," Jim said with a smirk to the man's back. Once the man was a ways on down the road, Jim continued his trek in the opposite direction, discreetly lifting fruits and other small food items from street vendors as he went.
When he finally arrived at his destination he quickly ducked into an old, dark alley between two large run-down buildings. The building on the left was one of the numerous tenement buildings in this city for the poor. The one on the right was the same, but it had been condemned and was now abandoned. Or at least everyone thought it was abandoned. He glanced around briefly to make sure no one was paying attention and then jerked a door open. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him hastily. This first room was devoid of light, people, furniture and anything else really. It was just a big empty space, like all of the rooms that had outside walls. The "family" lived in the innards of the building, away from prying eyes. He moved swiftly to the door opposite the one he had just entered through and was about to jerk it open like the last one when it flew open and he was greeted by several small children and shouts of "Jimmy's home!" and "Hey, play with us, Jimmy!"
Jim chuckled as he stepped through the door and pulled it shut. It seemed every time he went out the younger of the orphans waited for him to return. He wasn't the oldest. That spot belonged to Eddy, but Jim was the most responsible. As such, he was seen as the father of his family.
"Hey," Jim exclaimed in amusement, "how's all my kids doin'?" I brought you guys some breakfast." There was an instant reaction from the half-dozen children surrounding him.
"Yay!" they shouted in unison.
"What did you bring us, Jimmy?" a little boy named Charles asked. Jim squatted down to eye level with the youngsters and opened the sack he was carrying, pretending to search for something.
"Well, let's see here," he said thoughtfully, "we've got some bacon, sausage, eggs, rolls…" Each word brought forth a sound of satisfaction from the little ones.
"And what about me?" a melodic voice asked form the doorway a few feet down the corridor. Jim looked up to find Sarah standing there with her arms crossed under her ample bosom. Her thin body seemed so tiny in the spacious hall and her fiery red hair fell to her shoulders in waves as her icy blue eyes regarded him stoically. "Did you get the spices I asked you for?"
"Yeah, I got 'em," Jim said as he stood and walked toward Sarah. She was short, coming only to his chest, and about a year younger than he. "You owe me though, sweets. It wasn't easy."
"James," she sighed—she was the only person who called him that, "how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? And I've been asking for those spices for three weeks now."
"I told you, Sarah, it wasn't easy to find them." The two of them bickered like they had been married for years, and everyone though they made a cute couple, but the truth was that they saw each other more as siblings than life partners or soul mates.
"Yeah, well," Sarah sigh again, taking the sack of food from him and turning into the room that they used as a kitchen," you took your sweet time getting them." She lit a match and put it to a scrap of old newspaper that she threw into the fireplace. With no way to pay for electricity or gas, the orphan family had to resort to less conventional methods for cooking and light. "Oh yeah," Sarah said as if she had just remembered something, "the rats in the cellar are getting worse. You need to go take care of them."
"Yaes ma'am," Jim replied, taking on a phony French accent, "I weel take care of zose dairtee rats. Zay weel rue see day zat zay met Jim Raynor." Sarah laughed lightly, a sweet sound. She pushed him playfully toward the door.
"Just go do it," she laughed again, "and round everybody up. Breakfast is in thirty minutes."
"All right," Jim said, "I'll go see if Tweak wants to help me."
"James, why do you insist on calling him Tweak? He has a name, you know, Darik?" Darik, or Tweak as he was known by the other orphans, was Sarah's kid brother. The two were as different as water and oil and Sarah insisted on everyone calling him Darik despite her brother's hatred of the name. Tweak looked up to Jim not only as a father figure, but also as a brother he had always wanted.
"Because Darik is such a loser name. Oh, don't look at me that way. He doesn't even like the name." Sarah glared at him menacingly, a wooden spoon clutched in her right hand like a weapon. "Look, I'll try it for a while, but if he says he doesn't like it, it's back to Tweak." That seemed to sate her enough to go back to making breakfast and Jim slipped out quietly. He was just passing by the large room that was presumably the lobby of the building—now the living room—when he heard a small voice calling to him.
"Uncle Jimmy!" He turned toward the room to see a pretty little girl with long, jet-black hair wearing a faded, tattered, red sun dress running toward him with open arms. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms with a warm smile. "I missed you, Uncle Jimmy," she said. Her voice was as light and melodic as Sarah's.
"Well, I missed you too," Jim said as he poked her gently in the ribs. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. At the delicate age of four, Rosie was the youngest of the orphans, and Jim's favorite. Jim felt as if Rosie were his biological daughter. He thought that perhaps his affinity for her was due to the fact that their pasts were similar. Rosie came form a drug-addicted mother and an abusive, alcoholic father like Jim. The difference was that Rosie's father had killed her mother and was now in prison. When that had happened Rosie had not been put in an orphanage like most orphans. Instead she had been put on the street. She was three then and the damn Confederacy had put her on the street. That was where Jim had picked her up a year ago.
"Why aren't you playing with the others?" Jim asked her. She was usually the first to begin playing games and the last to give up.
"Uncle Eddy was telling me stories," she replied, wiping her nose on the back of her tiny hand.
"Oh? What kind of stories?" Jim was always a bit wary when Eddy told the kids "stories."
"I was teachin' the young'un about politics," Eddy said grully from heind his newspaper.
"Yeah, polly-tiks," Rosie grinned at Jim. Jim looked to Eddy, reclining in a torn old recliner in the living room. He was reading the newspaper as always. He rarely went out except to get drunk now and then. He was a short, stout man with a remarkably neat-trimmed beard and a mustache. He had a heard face with brown eyes and his brown hair was already beginning to thin. No one really knew how old he was but Jim thought he was somewhere between twenty-four and twenty-seven.
Of the original sic that had picked Jim up on the streets after he had escaped from the orphanage, Eddy was the only one left. The rest were dead, in prison, or in the case of Chaz, had started a new life. It was amazing to Jim. Orphans living on the street were not well-received in this city—they were seen as leeches—and while they could usually find any number of odd jobs to do for a small amount of cash, it was highly unheard of for one to get a steady job. The last time he had heard from Chaz, he had a wife and a kid and was living in an actual house in a nice district. Jim was happy for Chaz, but he preferred his own lifestyle.
"Well," he said to Rosie, "you just ignore Uncle Eddy. He's nothin' but a cynical, old man." Eddy pulled the paper down a bit to glance at Jim over the top of it, on eyebrow quirked slightly.
"What's that mean?" Rosie questioned, confusion contorting her pretty face. Her large, green eyes questioned Jim as well.
"That's hard to explain," Jim lied to avoid more questions, "you just remember not to listen to what he tells you, okay?"
"Okay," Rosie smiled. Jim's heart melted like butter in a frying pan every time the little girl smiled at him like that.
"Listen, can you keep a secret?" Jim was suddenly very serious as he asked the question. Rosie nodded vigorously and made him chuckle. "Okay, I got you a gift. But you can't tell any of the others or they'll be jealous."
"I promise," Rosie said solemnly.
"All right." Jim fished into his pocket and pulled a large lollipop out from within. He laughed lightly as Rosie's eyes lit up. She took the sucker eagerly, grasping it like a lifeline.
"Thank you, Uncle Jimmy," she breathed, giving him a hug.
"You're welcome, sweetie." He hugged her back and was about to put her down when she spoke up.
"Uncle Jimmy?"
"Yes, princess?" he answered.
"Will you tell me a bedtime story tonight?" She looked at him with those eyes and he couldn't resist.
"Well, of course I will, sweetheart. Now give your Uncle Jimmy a kiss." He tapped his cheek and Rosie planted a smooch there. He set her back on her own feet and prodded her along saying, "Now you go play. Uncle Jimmy's got stuff to do." She nodded and ran off to play with the other kids.
"You spoil her too much, Jimmy," Eddy said from behind his newspaper. "Kid's gotta grow up sometime."
"Eddy, she's four years old," Jim argued. "Not to mention she's been through a hell of a lot more than any little girl her age should ever have to endure. I think she deserves to be spoiled a bit."
"Like I said," Eddy replied, "gotta grow up sometime."
"Whatever, Eddy," Jim sighed and turned to leave, but Eddy spoke up again before he could.
Can you believe this shit, Jimmy? That fuckin' Confederacy nuked Korhal yesterday because they thought there might be a rebel uprising. Now that's what I call too much fuckin' power goin' to your head."
"Why do you read that crap, Eddy?" Jim asked the older man. "It's nothin' but a bunch of damn lies published and distributed by the Confederacy to make little people like us feel like we're not out of the loop." He meant and believed every word.
"Yeah, well if that's true, kid, it sure works. And he calls me cynical."
"Breakfast is in thirty," Jim sighed as he headed for the stairs at the end of the hall, leaving Eddy to his newspaper once again.
Jim took the steps two at a time to the top and then took a right. The right wing of the hall was for the guys while the left was for the girls. Jim's room was the first one and he pushed the door open and strode in. It wasn't much. It was just like the rest of the room. He had a dirty mattress, a single pillow and one very thick tattered bedspread. Most nights in summer he slept nude without the blanket. It was too hot for that. The only other items in the room were a rickety stool and a worn-out suitcase to pack up in case they had to move. He pulled the stool over and climbed up onto it so he could reach the ceiling. He had a semi-automatic pistol up here that he used for de-ratting and emergencies and such. He kept it in the ceiling so none of the kids could get to it.
Jim grabbed the pistol and a handful of ammo, as well as a flashlight, and stuffed the gun, barrel-first, into the front of his waistband with the stock sticking out. He also had a switchblade knife that he carried at all times, but that wouldn't do much good against the rats. Once he had replaced the ceiling tile he stepped off of the stool, pushed it up against the wall and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
He walked briskly further down the hall, nearly to the end, where he knew Tweak's room was. When he got there, the door was open a crack and Jim could see Tweak standing in the middle of the room with his back tot he door. His pants and boxers were in a pile around his ankles and he was making soft moaning sounds. Jim was no stranger to masturbation—and he knew that once started, if you stopped it was near impossible to get going again—so he stepped aside to give Tweak total privacy and waited until he heard the zipper of the boy's pants after he had pulled them up. Then Jim stepped back in front of the door and knocked lightly on the door frame before pushing the door all the way open.
"Hey, kid," Jim said casually, "want to help me de-rat the cellar?" Startled, Tweak turned to Jim quickly as he fell into the fighting stance Jim had taught him. When he realized who it was he relaxed. He looked exactly like his sister. He had the same red hair and blue eyes. Yet the two were so different that you wouldn't know they were even related just by talking to them.
"Oh, it's you, Jimmy," he breathed in relief. "You scared me. When did you get back?"
"About fifteen minutes ago," Jim replied. "So you want to help or not?"
"Sure," Tweak answered eagerly, "I'm always up for a little target practice." The two exited the room together and started down the stairs. As they made their way to the cellar door they talked.
"Your sister wants me to start calling you Darik now," Jim said, looking to Tweak to see his reaction.
"When does she not?" Tweak replied in disgust. "Ugh! I hate that name with a passion!"
"I know that," Jim consoled him, "but I promised her that I'd try it for awhile. But now that you've told me out right that you don't like it I don't have to. Part of the agreement." He grinned and pulled a key from his pocket as they reached the cellar door. They kept this door locked to keep the children from hurting themselves. He opened the door quickly and handed Tweak the flashlight, ushering him in. Once the boy was inside, Jim followed and closed and locked the door again. Tweak turned on the flashlight and Jim pulled out the pistol. He loaded it, turned off the safety, and handed it to Tweak as well.
"Hey, listen kid," Jim said with as much respect as he could so as not to offend the boy. He was only fourteen and looked up to Jim, but he was a ball of emotions all the time. "I didn't want to say anything up there where everyone else could hear, but I noticed you've discovered some things about yourself."
"Oh, you saw that?" Tweak sounded a bit embarrassed. He took it out on an unfortunate rat that scuttled past by putting a bullet in its head.
"Nice shot!" Jim exclaimed. "Yeah, I saw that, and it nothin' to be embarrassed about. All guys do it. I still do it occasionally. I remember this one time when I was in my room, you know, alone, and Sarah walked in on me by accident. She claims to this day that she didn't see nothin' but she won't come near my room anymore." He chuckled softly and Tweak laughed outright and then picked off a couple more rats.
"You know," Tweak mused aloud, "it feels good, but I can't help thinking my hand isn't nearly as good as a real woman would be."
"It's not," Jim said, "trust me." He grabbed the gun from Tweak and fired into the dark where he had heard a scuttling sound. When Tweak shined the flashlight there he found a dead rat bleeding on the floor.
"How'd you do that?" Tweak sounded amazed at Jim's skill.
"You just gotta listen," Jim shrugged. "So, listen, I know you've never been with a woman before." Tweak nodded and looked to Jim. "How's about you and me go out tonight and get that changed for your birthday."
"You remembered my birthday," Tweak said in disbelief.
"Of course I did," Jim smiled, "how could I not? After all, it's only two weeks before mine."
"Oh, yeah," Tweak said, grinning widely, "so we're going to do what tonight?"
"We're going to make you into a man," Jim said as he regarded the boy mildly. If Tweak acted over-excited he would know the boy wasn't ready.
"You mean like," Tweak lowered his voice and glanced about as if someone might overhear him down here, "having sex?"
"Yeah," Jim chuckled, "that's exactly what I mean." Tweak looked as if he might explode at any moment. He looked up at Jim and licked his lips excitedly then glanced into the darkness.
"I don't think Sarah would like that too much." Tweak was right, Jim knew, but he had already worked out the details of what they would tell Sarah.
"That's why we're going to tell her that I'm taking you to a movie."
"What if she finds out?" Tweak seemed like he wanted badly to be excited, but the fear of his sister's wrath spoiled it for him.
"If she finds out," Jim mused, "if she finds out I'll take responsibility for it. But you'll have to act like you didn't know until it happened and that I pressured you into it." Tweak nodded and turned as if to go back to work. Jim grabbed the gun and flashlight from him quickly. "Why don't you go wash up, kid. I'll mop up the stragglers and I'll be up in a minute."
"All right," Tweak turned toward the stairs and stood stock-still for a few moments. Jim wondered if maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he had seen something that had scared him. He opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, but Tweak turned to look at him. The boy stared for a few seconds before, "Thanks, Jimmy."
"No problem, kid," Jim replied. Tweak stared at him a while longer and then turned and went upstairs. Jim shook his head slightly and then went back to work. By the time he had finished, returned the pistol to its hiding place, and washed up everyone was already eating. He could smell the cooked meat as he headed to the dining room. He turned the corner and sauntered casually into the room just as everyone was starting to eat.
"Well," Sarah said rather haughtily, "nice of you to finally join us, James." Jim smiled his best smile at her as he sat in his chair at the head of the table.
"Hey, you're the one who wanted the cellar de-ratted. I was just doin' what I was asked to do." Jim gave Tweak, sitting next to Sarah, a quick wink and started to shovel food onto his plate.
"Well, I should be thankful that you did do what you were asked for once, shouldn't I?" Sarah asked condescendingly. Jim looked up to see both Tweak and Eddy shaking with light chuckles and Sarah giving him her best smile. He smiled back and shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth.
"I guess so," he said around his mouthful.
"Whatever," Sarah sighed as she began to eat, "let's just try and get through breakfast without another incident, hmm boys?" Her gaze wandered from Jim to Tweak and then back again as she spoke. Eddy snorted through a mouthful of eggs, Jim and Tweak chuckled, and one of the boys a few years younger than Tweak laughed outright. Sarah glared at them all menacingly.
Of course, Jim knew she was speaking of the night before when Jim had thrown mashed potatoes in Tweak's face, but the kid had had it coming. He had been making faces at Jim behind Sarah's back. Needless to say after the kids saw Jim throw that first fistful of potatoes it had been pandemonium. Food had gone flying all over the place and, when all was said and done, left Sarah extremely pissed, or at least acting like she was. But Jim had seen her throwing food too and knew that it had done them all some good to just be able to act their age, because even though Sarah had acted mad she hadn't been quite as grumpy last night after dinner.
"Yeah," Jim chuckled, "all right." The petite girl's glare intensified for a few moments and then she seemed satisfied enough to resume her meal. Shortly after, Jim decided it was time to tell Sarah of his plans for this evening. "So," he said, trying to sound casual, "do you need anything for Tweak's birthday cake?" Sarah shot a venomous look at him that he could only guess was for his lack of calling Tweak by his real name. She confirmed it a second later.
"His name is Darik, James," she said through gritted teeth, "and no, I've got everything I need, thank you." Jim smiled at her, a large, flashy grin. Tweak groaned at the mention of his real name.
"So I was thinking," Jim said, again trying to sound as casual as possible, "maybe I'll take Tweak, I mean Darik out to see a movie. I've been savin' the money from those random jobs I do sometimes. I probably have enough to go see that new horror flick I heard about." Sarah narrowed her eyes slightly like she thought he was up to something and then nodded simply. A split second later her eyes grew wide, staring at Jim in disbelief.
"Wait," she said, "is that the same money you promised me you'd save for Darik's school tuition? You can't use that money!" Jim hadn't thought about that. He had actually been saving the money so that the whole family could move out to the country. He had actually already bought a house. It was small, but big enough for them to live comfortably in and there was lots of room for the kids to play outside. However, Sarah had found the stash and without thinking Jim had told her it was so Tweak could go to school. He had wanted it to be a surprise, but he though he had enough that it wouldn't hurt to take out money for tonight.
"It's not much, Sarah," Jim said, trying to calm her, "it'll just be enough to see the movie."
"Oh, a movie!" Rosie exclaimed from her chair to the left of Jim. "Can I go too, Uncle Jimmy?"
"No, sweetheart," he patted Rosie's head gently just as Sarah burst out.
"No!" Sarah was yelling now and a few of the children seemed to be frightened by it. "No! I won't let him end up a broke nobody like us!" She suddenly seemed to realize how loud she had become and her mouth snapped shut with a click of her teeth, but her nostrils were flaring.
"Sarah, meet me in the living room please," Jim said calmly. She jerked her head in a short nod and stood. Jim stood with her as she started out the door of the room. Jim turned to the others quickly. "Finish your breakfast and then go play. Eddy, keep an eye on the kids." Then he went out the door and down the hall. When he got to the living room Sarah was pacing back and forth and chewing on her thumb—something that she did when she was nervous or angry and trying not to show it. As soon as he walked into the room she started in on him.
"Don't you think for one second, James Raynor, that I'm going to let you do this. I will not allow Darik to go through life living one meal at a time, wondering whether or not he'll get to eat or worrying about what orphan-hating confederate asshole might try to kill him next! That's not what my mother and father would have wanted for him! That's not what they'd want for me." Near the end of her tirade she ran out of steam and suddenly burst into sobbing tears. It hit Jim just then like a freight train how this life had affected Sarah—how it had affected him. They were only sixteen or seventeen and they had to act like they were at least a decade older. He pulled her into a tight hug and began to stroke her bright red hair gently as she sobbed into his chest.
"No," Jim whispered softly, "they wouldn't want that at all." He stood there, comforting the girl for some time before he sensed someone watching them. He looked to the doorway and found Rosie standing there, her eyes wide. Jim smiled as she ran over to him with the lollipop that he had given her earlier clutched in her hand.
"Sarah," she said a bit tentatively. Sarah sniffed and turned to regard the little girl through bleary, puffy eyes. Rosie thrust the lollipop upward toward Sarah. "Uncle Jimmy gave me this and it made me happy. Maybe it will make you happy." Sarah smiled and laughed lightly as she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. Jim was still holding her and pushed away from him.
"That's awfully nice of you, sweetie," Sarah said to Rosie, running a hand through the girl's raven-black hair, "but Uncle Jimmy gave the sucker to you. You'd better keep it." Rosie smiled her pretty smile that could light up a room and giggled.
"Okay, Sarah." Then she was off to play with the others. Jim reached out a hand and rubbed Sarah's arm comfortingly. She looked at him and then hugged him before speaking.
"You go to the movie and straight home. And I want Darik in that door by midnight, understood?" She was back to herself again. Jim nodded with a smirk. "And you're going to work extra hard to put that money back in your savings or I swear on my parents' graves I'll personally see to that you live to regret it." Again Jim nodded and Sarah, satisfied with his compliance, turned and swept out of the room. Jim followed her back into the dining room and the two of them sat down to finish breakfast together alone.
When they had finished breakfast, Jim helped Sarah clean up the dishes. The whole time they laughed and joke with each other. When the dishes were clean Jim bolted up the steps to grab his switchblade which he had left up there. He came running down the stairs two at a time and was almost out the door when Sarah saw him.
"Where are you headed off to?" she asked a bit suspiciously.
"I'm just goin' to make my rounds," Jim said casually, flipping the blade of his knife open and then closing it again. As the father figure, Jim had many responsibilities. One of those responsibilities was to go out and make sure that none of the people who hunted down orphans got close to the building. Jim must have been speaking a bit loudly because Tweak suddenly appeared from one of the rooms adjacent to the hall.
"You're going on rounds?" he asked hopefully. "Can I come?" Jim wanted to tell him yes. It would be nice to have some company while he was out. He knew it was important that he divert attention away from the tenement building, but it was boring work. However, he saw Sarah standing behind Tweak with her arms crossed and shaking her head back and forth.
"No, kid," Jim said, "you oughtta stay here." He saw Tweak's face fall. "After all, someone's gotta watch Eddy and the kids, and we both know Sarah can't do it." He nudged Tweak jokingly with his elbow and winked at him. Behind the boy, his sister just smirked at Jim and Tweak laughed. "I'll be back after a bit."
"All right," Tweak said, "ill be expecting you." Jim nodded and then turned and was out the door. The sunny weather of the early morning had very suddenly turned into a cool, cloudy late morning that promised rain. He groaned as he set out down the alley toward the main street. It was likely to be a very unpleasant morning if it started raining while he was still out. But still he had responsibilities.
He spent a good half-hour just walking around in the general area listening for a hint that someone may have discovered the orphans, but most people just wanted to talk about the Confederacy's nuking of Korhal or the weather. He was also careful not to remain in any spot too long lest he be recognized. That surely would not have been a good thing. After several minutes of listening to two old ladies talk about the particulars of some television talk show, Jim decided to go see if he could get a drink. He was very thirsty.
He walked briskly down the street to where he knew there was a store and stepped inside the building just as it was beginning to sprinkle. Luckily, there was no one in sight so he grabbed himself a bottle of soda and went back outside. He spent another ten minutes or so looking around and had decided that it was safe. He started heading home and was about two blocks from the tenement building when the worst possible thing happened. Rounding a corner, he came face-to-face with Brock Hullman.
Brock was a member of a local gang of thugs whose parents had more money than any person should have. They called themselves the Hyenas and they made it their mission to wipe out the orphans. Jim had fought Brock before and he knew he could beat him. Brock was tall—taller than Jim—and had sandy blonde hair. He was built like a machine and strong as an ox, but he was slow. Jim could easily dodge around his punches. He stepped back a few paces and looked around to make sure none of Brock's buddies were around. Fortunately the big brute was quite alone.
"I was just lookin' for someone to kill," Brock sneered, "and here you are, Jane." That was what Brock called Jim. Jim guessed he thought it was funny or that it made Jim mad. Frankly, Jim didn't give a damn.
"Now, now, Brock," Jim said in a scolding tone, "with so many people around? I believe that's what they call stupid."
"What? Do you think someone'll help you?" Brock barked out a hard, cruel laugh. "No one cares about your kind. They see you all for the scum you are!"
"Who said anything about needing help?" Jim shot back. "I was worrying for you. After all, we wouldn't want you to lose your tough guy image with the gang because these people see me kick your ass." Brock's face turned bright red and Jim just smiled big. This was exactly what he had wanted. He wanted Brock to be angry so that he would slip up and do something irrational or stupid. Opening his mouth for another insult—perhaps a nice comment about Brock's mother—it became very apparent that he needed to say nothing more.
Brock whipped out a switchblade knife and flipped it open before rushing at Jim in a blind rage. Jim side-stepped lithely and brought out his own knife. He slashed at Brock's back, giving the other a superficial cut on his right shoulder. Brock cried out in surprise and pain. He turned slowly and started to advance on Jim again. This time he was being cautious. Then it started to rain.
Sheets upon sheets of large drops of water fell from the sky. In seconds, it was impossible from Jim to see more than five feet in any direction. Great, he thought bitterly, just wonderful. Not only am I already soaked, but I've also got a gang member with knife out for blood and I can't see him. He looked back and forth trying to find some hint of the other boy. But with the rain pounding down on him it was as equally hard to hear as it was to see. He knew Brock was too stupid to come straight at him. With Jim expecting an attack from behind or the side, he would not be looking in front of him. But Brock did not know that.
Slowly, he turned, hearing nothing but the rain, trying depesrately to find Brock before Brock found him. As he turned he noticed someone running toward him. So Brock was a might dumber than Jim had thought, running head on and giving Jim time to prepare. His grip on the knife tightened, but the man ran right past him. It wasn't Brock. Jim could feel panic starting to creep into his brain. He thought he knew Brock's style, but the hoy had not attacked him yet. Had he gotten smarter? Had he realized he should wait until Jim was off guard?
Relief flooded through Jim's body and relaxed a hair when he heard Brock's voice, muted by the rain, shout, "Where are you, Jimmy? Come on, you little fucker! Fight me!" It was coming from where Jim had last actually seen him. Could he be stupid enough to have not moved at all? Better not to question good fortune, Jim knew. So, he turned and ran. He ran right into Brock.
Brock loomed over him like a great mountain of muscle. He looked down at Jim and laughed hoarsely. More quickly than Jim would have thought that he could move, Brock brought his knife up and swiped at the spot where Jims neck had been moments ago. Jim tried to get around the other, but Brock moved to block him and took another swing. Jim hopped backward to avoid getting sliced open and tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. He toppled backwards and landed hard on his back. Stars were popping in his vision and he felt dizzy as Brock started toward him with a smile of grim satisfaction.
Jim could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had seen many fights like this one, but never in his life had any of them gone so terribly awry as this one had. Brock bore down on him with his fist drawn back as if to punch, the knife positioned to stab Jim. Brock had placed all of his weight on Jim's arms and legs to take away his mobility. He punched downward hard toward Jim's face and Jim used all of his strength to jerk his head to the side at the last moment.
Jim was trapped. He could only move his head and there was no way he would be able to keep that up for very long. So he did the only thing he could think of. He lifted his head and twisted his neck and bit down onto Brock's neck as hard as he could muster. The taste of blood was seeping into his mouth slowly, but he didn't care. He would hold on as long as he had to.
Brock jerked back, nearly taking Jim's teeth with him and put a hand to his neck. The hand came away with fresh blood staining it, infuriating the great brute. He recovered rather quickly, but by then it was too late. Jim was already on his feet and racing down the sidewalk.
"You better watch your back, you little cannibal!" Brock screamed after him in a blinding rage. "I'll find you and I'll take everything away from you that you love!" The boy continued screaming until Jim was too far away to hear, but he had stopped caring and let himself get lost in the rain. He didn't go straight home. Instead he went to his favorite spot in the city. It was possibly the tallest building in this part of the city and by the time he had reached the top, it had stopped raining.
Jim loved it up here because here he could get away from it all, even if only for a brief time. On windy days, he would stand on the edge and close his eyes. He would spread his arms wide and imagine he was a bird flying over what forests on Tarsonis the Confederacy had not destroyed for progression and expansion. He sat atop the building watching the world below him with less than interest. What would have happened if Brock had not missed with that first stab? How would Tweak and Sarah and the others have gotten on without him? He was their source of food and protection. Slowly, those thoughts began to sink deeper and deeper into his mind, and they scared him. He did not know how long he had sat there, but when he got up and turned to leave he found Eddy standing there.
"Eddy," he said in disbelief, "what are you doing here?"
"I've been standing here for a while," Eddy answered as he lit a cigarette and took a puff from it. "I said your name like three times, but you didn't hear me so I decided to wait."
"Okay, but what are you doing here?" Jim repeated his question. Eddy took another draw on his cigarette and look at Jim for a moment.
"Sarah sent me to find you. You've been gone for over three hours." He paused a moment and looked upward. "You know, it really is beautiful up here. I can see why you love it so much." He paused again to take a rather long drag this time. "Anyway, I scouted the area, listening for recounts of what may have happened. When nothing pointed to something disastrous, I know that there was only one place you could logically be." Jim nodded and glanced up at the sky. Eddy was right. It was really beautiful up here.
The two stood atop the building for a few more minutes and then silently climbed down and headed home. As soon as they walked in the door, it became apparent that Sarah was not happy.
"Where have you been?" Sarah all but screamed. "Darik has been worried sick about you! And Rosie kept crying because she thought he Uncle Jimmy was hurt or dead or had run off and leave us!" She was breathing very heavily, her nostrils flaring and tears welling up in her eyes.
"Nice to see you too," Jim muttered as he stripped off his sopping wet shirt.
"And what about you, Sarah?" Eddy asked rather quietly. Sometimes he could be the most perceptive person Jim knew.
"What about me?" Sarah snapped at him.
"Did you worry about Jimmy?" Eddy asked her patiently.
"Of course I was worried! Why wouldn't I be?" Eddy merely shrugged and let the matter drop. Jim knew what he was getting at. Eddy was one of the many who thought Jim and Sarah would make a cute couple, even if he wouldn't quite use the word "cute" to describe it. Jim figured that Sarah having almost burst into tears from worry did not do anything to dispatch that mentality in Eddy. In fact, it only rooted it more firmly.
It did not really bother Jim that Eddy and the others thought of him like that. He liked Sarah most of the time. She was fun to joke with when she wasn't in a bad mood. Jim loved to listen to her sing. Most times he had to stand outside the door while she bathed, though. She did not like people listening to her. He also thought she was possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He especially liked the way her hair shimmered in the sun when the two of them went outside for walks in the summer. But of course, he would never tell her that.
Jim spent the entire afternoon with Tweak, drying out his clothes and playing war games with the smaller children. He had to go shirtless most of the afternoon as his shirt was drying off. It felt good to him as the day was fairly hot, especially in the building. However, he could not help feeling self-conscious around the girls that were Tweak's age. Tweak said they thought he was cute and he was aware that he had a good physique. Every now and then he would look behind him and find them staring and giggling. He felt like he had become their eye candy or something. He felt especially uncomfortable when he caught Sarah staring at him and sort of half-smiling. When she realized he had noticed her, she darted out of site.
The afternoon passed fairly quickly and before long, Sarah was calling everyone to dinner. Dinner went smoothly. There were no outbursts, no arguments, and no food fights. It seemed almost like a normal dinner. As normal as a family of about thirteen kids can be. Jim looked around the table and smiled at his family as he ate.
After dinner Jim and Tweak helped clear the table and rounded the younger kids up for bed. When all the kids had been sent to bed Jim decided that it was time to go. "So you ready?" he asked Tweak. "Better get goin'."
"Sure, let's go," Tweak replied, trying to conceal his excitement.
"Uh, James," Sarah said as the two were just head out the door.
"Yes, Sarah?" Jim said, turning back around to face her.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh, Sarah," Jim cooed, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you wanted a goodbye kiss." Tweak burst into uproarious laughter as Sarah flushed a deep crimson.
"That's not what I meant you know it," she growled. "All afternoon I've been listening to Rosie tell me about how Uncle Jimmy had promised to tell her a bedtime story. I am not going to explain to her why she got her little heart broken. So you get your ass up there and tell her a bedtime story."
"Okay, okay," Jim threw his hands into the air as if in surrender. "Calm down, I just forgot is all." He then turned to Tweak. "Listen, kid, why don't you help your sister wash the dishes and I'll be down in a bit. We've still got some time I imagine."
"All right," Tweak said. Jim turned and walked from the kitchen. He raced up the stairs and turned to the right. Three doors down on his left he opened the door and slipped in quietly.
"Uncle Jimmy," Rosie exclaimed brightly, "you came to tell me a story!" She sat up in her bed and clapped her hands together.
"Of course I did, sweetheart," Jim replied as he sat down next to her on the mattress. "So, what do you wanna hear?" The little girl climbed into his lap, wearing the overly large tee shirt that was her nightgown and laid her head on his chest. Jim ran his hand through her hair.
"I don't care," she said.
"Okay," Jim pondered, "once upon a time there was a kingdom that was filled with beautiful flowers."
"What color were the flowers?" Rosie asked.
"They were red and blue and purple and any other color anyone could think of. In this kingdom there was a big castle where the king and queen lived. One day the queen had a beautiful baby girl that was so beautiful that no one could do anything but love her. The queen thought she was as beautiful as a rose and name her Rose."
"Hey," Rosie said, perking and looking up at him, "that's like my name." Jim nodded and smiled.
"It sure is," he replied with a grin. "So anyway, everyone in the kingdom loved the princess and one day, the wicked witch who lived in the kingdom had also fallen in love with the princess. So she kidnapped her." Rosie made a small, scared sound and nestled herself into Jim's chest. He smiled and hugged her to him. "No one knew what had happened to the princess. They searched and searched, but the witch had hidden her. Many years later a handsome prince came along and happened to find the princess. The two fell in love immediately and the prince killed the witch and the prince and princess got married and lived happily ever after." Rosie looked up at him again.
"Is that story true?" she asked rather suspiciously.
"You bet it is, honey," Jim laughed, then he remembered Tweak downstairs. "Okay, angel, time for bed."
"Aww," Rosie whined, pouting at him with her pretty sky-blue eyes, "can't I stay up with you?" Jim almost said yes to that pout. Almost.
"No, you can't stay up. I have tot take Tweak tot he movies for his birthday."
"Okay," Rosie sighed, a little dejected as she climbed under the covers. Jim tucked her in and kissed her forehead.
"Good night, pumpkin," he said as he stood up.
"Good night, Uncle Jimmy." He walked to the door, stopping to turn down the propane lantern on a stool in the middle of the room so that she had just enough light to keep her from getting scared. He opened the door and was almost out when Rosie spoke up. "Uncle Jimmy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I love you." Jim's heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. Rosie had never told him that before. He felt his throat catch and tears well up in his eyes.
"I love you too, sweetheart," Jim managed to choke out. In the dim light he just barely saw Rosie smile, happy as could be, because he Uncle Jimmy loved her. Jim closed the door quietly and once in the hall, cried silently. She had never said anything like that to him. He thought that he now knew why parents were so willing to put up with all of the things their children did. Because they loved them. He wiped the tears away as he descended back toward the kitchen. He wanted to go give Rosie a big hug, but he knew her well enough to know that she was already asleep. He didn't want to disturb her. She might not get back to sleep.
He walked down to the kitchen and leaned up against the door frame. He watched Sarah and Tweak as they washed the dishes. The two seemed to having fun together. Tweak splashed water onto Sarah from the big tub and the both of them laughed about it. Neither seemed to notice Jim. He knocked on the door frame and they turned to look at him. "You ready, kid?" Jim asked.
"Yeah," Tweak replied with a grin, "we just finished up." Jim noticed Sarah looking at him like she couldn't quite figure something out.
"James, have you been crying?" she nearly accused.
"No," Jim said, wiping at his eyes quickly, "why would you think that?" Now Tweak was staring at him like he could see it too.
"Nevermind," Sarah sighed, "you boys have fun."
"Aye, aye, cap'n," Jim said with a quick mock-salute. Then he and Tweak were out the door.
It was about two o'clock by the time Jim and Tweak got home. Tweak had calmed down a lot since earlier that evening. Jim guessed he had been worn out by the experience he had had. He still talked all the way home, but it wasn't the kiddish energy of before. Outside of the tenement building Jim stopped and turned to Tweak. "Listen, kid," he said, "we're gonna be in trouble. We were supposed to be home at midnight. I reckon it's about two now. But since you didn't know, you're clear. Let me handle it."
"All right," Tweak said with a short nod.
"Also," Jim added as an afterthought, "when your sister asks how you liked the movie—and she will—you tell her it scared you spitless, got it? You know how your sister feels about protitutes. If she knew you'd slept with one…"
"I know," Tweak cut him off. Jim nodded and the two headed inside. Jim had already decided what he was going to say to Sarah. He was going to calmly tell her that they had gotten to the theater a little late and had been forced to wait until the later showing. He knew she wouldn't buy it, but it was worth a shot. When he opened the inner door, he expected to see her standing right by the door, but she wasn't. In fact, she was nowhere in sight. He found it odd, but then, she had been complaining about being tired lately. Maybe she had gone on to bed.
"I guess we got lucky," Jim said over his shoulder to Tweak. "Sarah must've gone to bed already."
"Yeah," Tweak agreed in relief, "I'd hate to have to deal with her this early in the morning."
"Amen to that." Jim took one last look around and then headed for the stairs. As he was passing by the living room he noticed Eddy lying in one of the recliners with a newspaper draped over his chest and his head turned away from the door.
"He must've fallen asleep reading the paper," Tweak said, voicing what Jim was already thinking.
"Eddy," Jim called, "wake up." When he didn't move Jim started toward him. "Eddy, you can't be sleeping in here. It sets a bad example for the kids." He reached the other man in a few strides and lifted the paper. He put it right back down. "Dark, come here."
"Jimmy, don't call me that," Tweak sighed. When he saw the look on Jim's face, he knew something was wrong. "Jimmy, what's wrong?"
"Just come here," Jim said a little more harshly than he had meant to.
"He's dead isn't he?" Tweak said as he slowly made his way across the room.
"Yeah," Jim's voice cracked as he spoke, "yeah, he's dead." Jim had known Eddy most of his life. He was like a brother to Jim. And someone had put a knife in his ribs. Jim pulled the pistol from the waistband of his jeans, Brock's words from earlier ringing in his ears. I'll fine you and I'll take everything away from you that you love! He handed the pistol to Tweak. "Take this. If you see anyone you don't recognize, you empty that clip into 'em. You pull the fuckin' trigger 'til the gun goes 'click,' understood?" Tweak nodded jerkily. "Good, and don't leave this room until I get back. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, though, I want you to get out of the building and never come back." Without waiting for an acknowledgment he headed out the door.
He raced up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time and fumbled his switchblade from his pocket. At the top of the stairs he took a right. Rosie's room was three doors down on the right and the door was hanging wide open. Stepping into the room, Jim could see that the lamp had been knocked off of its stool and the glass was shattered.
"Rosie?" he said into the darkness. She didn't answer. He rushed to her mattress and flung himself down beside it, pulling the covers back. Instantly he felt hot tears running down his cheeks. Rosie's lifeless body was lying there in a pool of blood.
"No," Jim whispered, scooping her up into his arms, "no, you weren't supposed to die like this. You were supposed to die at an old age, peacefully in your sleep. You weren't supposed to die until everyone realized you were the princess and you'd married your prince charming. Not like this. This isn't fair." He sat there for what seemed an eternity, rocking back and forth with Rosie's body in his arms, not caring that warm blood was flowing from the corpse all over him. He sobbed loudly, whispering "no" over and over again as his tears dropped onto Rosie's pretty, lifeless face. She hadn't deserved to die. She was so young.
Jim didn't know how long he sat there, sarrying on that way, but sometime after he heard the door creak behind him. He was on his feet in a flash, knife in hand. He nearly lunged at the girl there before he caught himself. It was Megan, a girl about Tweak's age. He recalled her telling him that she liked Tweak, and quickly pushed that thought aside.
"Jimmy?" she said tentatively. "What's going on? We, me and the other girls, heard someone creeping around up here. We tried to be as quiet as possible until we thought that he was gone." She suddenly seemed to notice Rosie's body. "Oh no," she started to cry, "did someone kill poor Rosie?" Jim felt the tears welling up in his eyes again as Megan sobbed. He moved over to her and hugged her, saying nothing, merely crying with her. Then he heard the muffled moans of pain and discomfort coming from further down the hall, coming from Sarah'' room. Megan seemed to hear them too.
"Stay here," Jim whispered. Megan nodded and he crept out the door and down the hall to the last door on the left, Sarah's room. The door was open just wide enough for him to see Brock on top of a naked Sarah with he hand over her mouth. Sarah's eyes were wide with terror and she was trying to scream, but she couldn't. Brock was moving his hips backward and forward. The bastard was raping sweet, innocent, beautiful Sarah! First he had killed Eddy, then Rosie, and now he was raping the girl Jim was in love with. Jim's blood suddenly ran cold. Later he would realize he was in love with Sarah, but at that moment there was only an immense, swelling rage that Jim had never known existed inside of him. He would make Brock pay for this. He would make the bastard pay with his very life.
He gripped the knife tightly and kicked the door open. Both Brock and Sarah whipped their head toward the door. There was a brief moment where Brock too his hand from Sarah's mouth and Sarah stopped trying to scream. No one moved and then, as if it had been a magic spell, the tranquillity was broken. Everything happened so fast. Brock snarled at Jim.
"Jimmy," Sarah screamed, "help me!" Brock turned and slapped her, added fodder to the fire that was Jim's rage. Brock took two seconds to pull up his pants and get his own knife out. That was two seconds too many. Jim was on him in the blink of an eye. He shoved his knife into Brock's ribs up to the hilt, twisted it, and then tried to jerk it free, but the blade wouldn't come. Brock howled in pain, but he wasn't ready to give in just yet. He swung his arm in a wide arc, trying to catch Jim in the face. Jim hopped back and ducked low. He kicked his leg out and under Brock, quickly raking it forward across the ground. The maneuver succeeded and Brock ended up on his back with a fall that nearly shattered the floorboards.
Brock struggled to regain his feet, but Jim was already on top of him, pinning him down. Jim was significantly weaker than Brock, but the loss of blood from the wound in his side was making him woozy. Jim pulled a fist back and punched Brock square in the face. He punched him again. And again. He was getting ready to punch a fourth time when he felt the searing pain in his shoulder. Looking down, he noticed the hilt of Brock's knife sticking out. In a last ditch effort, Brock had stabbed Jim, aiming for his heart, but missed his target.
Jim paused for only a brief moment and then continued to punch Brock. With each movement, he felt the searing pain in his shoulder like a white-hot poker. At some point his knuckles broke open and his own blood mixed with Brock's. Rage consumed him and blood was rushing in his ears. He wanted Brock to pay for what he had done to Rosie. She was a defenseless, harmless, beautiful little girl and Brock had murdered her. No longer would Jim tell her bedtime stories or listen as she recounted her eventful days. No longer would she come rushing to meet him as he came in the door or give him one of her extra special hugs. Brock had stolen that away, murdered her. Now Jim would murder him.
Jim just kept punching and punching. Vaguely, like someone shouting from a great distance, he heard Sarah yelling, "Jimmy, stop it! He's dead!" But Jim didn't care. Finally, too weary to even lift his arms, Jim topped over backward and lay on the floor, breathing hard. All he could see was Rosie's body, drenched in her own blood. Sarah came to him then, lying on top of him as she shuddered. He was aware of her kissing him. He was aware of Tweak standing over him, terror in his eyes. Sarah's screaming had drawn him.
"She's dead," Jim sobbed as Sarah gently stroked his hair. "Rosie's dead. That bastard killed her.
"I know," Sarah whispered to him, herself on the verge of crying. "I know." She kissed him again and then he was unconscious.
He woke sometime mid-morning that day. He had been moved onto the bed in his room. The knife had been removed from his shoulder and the wound was bandaged. Sarah had stayed with him the whole time and Megan had made breakfast. The events of earlier that morning seemed like just some bad dream. He wanted to go to Rosie's room and see her sleeping peacefully, but he knew in his heart that she wasn't just sleeping. The thought brought tears to his eyes again. Then Sarah told him the rest of the bad news.
"Jimmy, he killed them all," Sarah said solemnly. "He killed all of the children. The only ones he let live were Megan, Adriana, Brandy, Elizabeth and I."
"If only I hadn't taken Darik out last night," Jim said as if he hadn't heard her. "It only we'd stayed home."
"It was his birthday," Sarah rationalized for him. "And if you hadn't, he'd've killed you too and no one would've saved me." Jim thought maybe she was right, but couldn't help blaming himself.
He didn't say anything else to anyone after that. He got up and went to retrieve his knife, and then headed downstairs. On his way passed the kitchen Tweak noticed him. "Hey, Jimmy, where are you going?" he asked tentatively. Jim ignored him. He didn't want to deal with people right now. He just wanted to be alone.
He spent the morning walking the streets of the city, mulling over in his mind everything that had happened of late. He had killed a person, a human being. He wondered what it would be like if Rosie were still alive. Well, he wouldn't be able to hold her, that was certain. How could he, after what he had done? How could he ever be her Uncle Jimmy again? And what of Sarah? Would he be able to touch her, to hold her? Did he deserve to? He tried to rationalize his actions, tried to tell himself that it was necessary to protect Sarah and the others, but he knew that wasn't true. He had killed Brock out of cold blood, and nothing could change that.
At some point—Jim didn't know what time it was—he was walking by an electronics store and noticed a commercial playing on a display television in the window. It was a man of about average height and weight, with slightly thinning, grayed hair, wearing the uniform of a Confederate general. Jim recognized the man as General Edmund Duke and stopped to watch.
"Are you a born leader?" Duke was asking rhetorically. "Do you feel yourself drawn to adventure? Maybe you just need a place where you can find your purpose. Well, then join the Confederate Army and find your future." The commercial faded and was replaced by another, but Jim wasn't paying attention anymore. He was staring at his hands. He had killed Brock with these hands. His knuckles had been bandaged and the blood was seeping through the white shirt that had been used to wrap them with just enough that he could see spots of red where his knuckles were. He knew what he was going to do, what he had to do. He was going to join the Confederate Army. There he would fit in.
When he got home, he found Tweak and apologized for ignoring him earlier. He explained that he was just upset. Tweak said he understood, but Jim could tell he had hurt the boy. After that he called everyone who had survived last night into the living room. A blanket had been thrown over Eddy's body. The building seemed so empty without the children running and playing. Of the original sixteen of them only seven were left. When everyone had gathered there, he looked at them all. They all looked tired and haggard, especially Sarah.
"Okay," Jim said, "we have to get rid of the bodies. But we're not going to just throw the bodies out." Sarah seemed as if she were going to cry, and Jim noticed Tweak and Megan holding hands and staring at the ground dejectedly. It seemed that the thought of never being able to see each other again had spurred the two to face their mutual feelings. That almost made Jim smile. Almost. "We're going to bury them in the basement. I'd like nothing more than to put them all in a cemetery, but we have no money to buy nine plots. Not to mention since the cemeteries are getting over-populated there's no chance that they'd even sell us a plot. And this way, they'll be most comfortable since this was their home."
It took the rest of the day, nearly five hours, to carry all of the bodies down to the basement and get them buried. Rosie was last and there was not a dry eye in that basement while Jim was shoveling dirt on top of her body. The little girl had been special to them all. She had touched them all in different ways with her long, raven-black hair and big pretty eyes, and lovable personality. When Rosie's grave had been filled in everyone went upstairs except Jim and Sarah.
Sarah stood beside Jim quietly as he thought to himself. He didn't like the fact that Rosie and the others were in the ground. It made it official. They really weren't coming back. Sarah slipped her hand into Jim's and squeezed it gently. He flinched at her touch, reminded of the blood that had stained his hands the night before. He had an urge to pull away from her, but he didn't. He took his hand from hers and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her close to him. After several minutes he looked down at her.
"Let's go upstairs," he said to her. "I've got something I need to tell you all."
"What?" Sarah asked, taking his hand again.
"I want to tell everyone at once. It'll be hard enough saying it once." Sarah nodded and Jim could tell that she knew something was up. But he also knew it would be hard to say what he had to. To say it twice would be unbearable. Jim led her upstairs and into the living room. Everyone was sitting around looking glum.
"Guys," Jim started, "I have something I want to say." Already he could feel a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard as Tweak and the girls stared at him. "Sarah, you'll want to sit down."
"I'll stand," she replied, giving his hand a small squeeze.
"I, uh," Jim started, "I'm leaving." The reaction was instantaneous.
"What?" Tweak nearly yelled, jumping to his feet. "Jimmy you can't!" Megan, Elizabeth, and the other girls were right behind him. The only person not saying anything was Sarah. Jim held his hand up to silence the others.
"I'm joining the Confederate Army," he said when they had quieted down.
"But you hate the Confederacy!" Tweak argued heatedly.
"I know," Jim said. "I know. But it's the only place I belong now. I killed a man."
"You had to," Sarah spoke up. She came around to face him. "If you hadn't he would've killed us all."
"I could've knocked him out," Jim argued with her.
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
"Eventually he would have woken up."
"I could've tied him up."
"You had to."
"I know I did."
"Then what's the problem?" Jim paused before answering her question.
"The problem," he swallowed hard, "the problem is that it wasn't just necessity that made me kill him, Sarah. I did it out of cold blood. I wanted to make him pay for killing Rosie." He was crying now. Sarah moved toward him and wrapped him in a hug, placing a hand on the back of his head as he buried his face in her shoulder.
"No one blames you, sweetie," Sarah whispered softly. "In the same position, any of us would have done that. No one blames you."
"You're wrong." Jim had lifted his face to hers and was staring into her beautiful green eyes. She had a puzzled look on her face. "I blame me." Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Jim continued quickly, cutting her off. "To me, I may as well have put the knife into all of the children killed, and Eddy too."
"But you couldn't have known, Jimmy," Tweak nearly pleaded with him. "It wasn't your fault." Jim continued on like he hadn't heard Tweak.
"God, I told her that I would protect her and I didn't. What happens the next time that I fail to protect one of you? I don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve you." He pushed away from Sarah. "I don't deserve to have Darik look up to me. And I definitely don't deserve to be the father of out little family." He fell silent after that and no one spoke for a long time. After some time had passed, Sarah spoke up again.
"Jimmy, none of us care whether you deserve it or not. We need you." Jim shook his head defiantly, saying nothing. Sarah took a step closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I love you, Jimmy." That shocked Jim slightly. He had known ever since the night before when he had collapsed on the floor after his battle with Brock. But he had never expected her to say it.
"I love you too, Sarah," Jim said weakly.
"Then why don't you stay with me? Stay with us?"
"Because I can't!" The two argued for some time after, but in the end it was accepted—if not liked—by everyone that Jim would leave that very night to join the Confederate Army. As he was packing, he talked to Tweak.
"Darik," he said and Tweak made a face, "I know you don't like that name, but you're a man now. That means you have to accept certain responsibilities. Part of those responsibilities is having a man's name. Darik is your name, and you need to use it." Darik nodded, saying nothing. "It's also your job to protect your sister and the others." He fished his switchblade out of his pocket and held it out to him. "I want you to have this." Darik hesitated momentarily before taking the knife. Jim continued to pack as he finished speaking. "In the ceiling there are three extra clips to the gun I gave you last night. There, over there." He pointed to the ceiling where he kept the ammunition.
"Okay," Darik said softly, then, "Jimmy?"
"Yeah, Darik?"
"What about the body in Sarah's room? Shouldn't we bury him?"
"No, leave him," Jim said without hesitation. "It you're lucky the rats'll pick him clean."
"But we can't have that body stinking up the building," Darik said, taken aback slightly. "Where's Sarah going to sleep?"
"Not here," Jim replied, stopping packing and looking at Darik, "none of you are going to. Under that floorboard sticking up over there is the stash of money I've been saving. It was never really for tuition. I was saving it so we could move to the country. You know, so we could get away from all of this." He motioned wide with his arms. "I already bought a house." He reached under the mattress on the floor and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Darik. "That's directions to the house. There's enough money for the six of you to afford transportation. You can also buy some vegetable seeds to plant in the yard." Jim paused for a moment. He could picture Sarah working in a garden, tending vegetable with the sun shining on her. She looked so beautiful. He shook the image from his head. That was something that he would never see.
"Jimmy, can't you just stay?" Darik beseeched him. "I know and you know that you want to stay with us." Jim had started to put a piece of clothing into his bag, but he stopped and stared at Darik. He stepped over and drew the younger boy into a hug, then stepped back.
"I'm sorry, Darik. This is something I have to do. You and the others will be fine." Darik nodded solemnly and Jim finished packing his few belongings and the two of them went downstairs. Sarah and the girls were already waiting by the door. He gave them each a hug, stopping to accept a kiss from Sarah, then turned to Darik.
"Remember what I told you, Darik, and make sure you are all out of her by tomorrow night. If someone reports Brock missing and he told one of his buddies where he was going then the police will come looking for him. You shouldn't be here when that happens." He hesitated only a second and then turned and walked out the door.
He didn't go straight to the recruiting office. He wanted to visit what he referred to as his spot one last time. He climbed to the top of the building and looked out over the city. The sun was just setting in the east, casting a glow of brilliant oranges, purples, and blues over the city. He looked down at his hands, then out to the west. Out there was a home waiting for Darik and Sarah and Megan and the other girls. How he wished that he could be with them and hold Sarah in his arms. But he knew that couldn't be. He loved Sarah, he knew that now, but what he had told her was true. He didn't deserve to hold her anymore. Not with these blood-stained hands.