A/N: Ok, here it is!! A Box of Chocolates! I hope you all enjoy, I've been working on this one for a while now, and it should definitely be better than my others. I know it's not very long so far, but it's sort of a prolouge of what will come. There will be more to come, it is a chaptered story, so maybe some of you will review and make me write! Well, have fun!!
A Box of Chocolates
Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get."
-Forrest Gump
Jack Kelly liked to think his life was perfect. But now, as he listened to the echo of screaming and shattering glass reach his ears, he desperately willed himself to believe it.
We'll just start off by saying Jack Kelly's life was far from perfect. This fact was quite eminent due to the large amount of fighting going on right outside his bedroom door. He heard his mother scream that his father was a filthy bastard over his father's accusations and swearing, and sighed. Jack rolled over on his small bed, jammed the headphones farther into his ears, and turned up the volume on his iPod.
He was waiting for the moment when the fighting would finally cease, and everything would be okay again. His parents would knock on his door, enter red faced, but tell him everything was fine, they just had a 'little disagreement.' It was by these words that Jack took refuge in, repeating them over and over until he finally believed them himself.
The heavy Metallica guitar solo screamed in his brain, while the steady drum thudded behind his eyes like a heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the music, in an attempt to drown out the incessant screaming. Jack still heard it anyway, and turned up his iPod to the max. Maybe he could still hear it because the music wasn't loud enough, but Jack thought that was hardly the case. Maybe it was because he'd heard this fight a thousand times; that he didn't need to hear it to know what was being said.
His father had probably caught his mother doing something, who knows what, maybe she was cheating again, but he had most likely slapped her. Of course she had bitten back with a few nasty insults, and this Jack could stand. What he hated was when the bottles started flying. One after another, empty beer bottles would fly through the air, barely miss his mother, and shatter against the wall.
He wished he could turn up the volume again. The sound was loud enough to make any normal person deaf, but that's just what Jack wanted to be. The fight was most likely winding down, and right when Jack expected it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his parents standing a good five feet away from each other. The ever so familiar knot in his stomach returned and tightened when he saw his mother. So his father didn't have horrible aim after all, surprising.
Why were they being so distant? Usually they at least tried to look like they liked each other. He glanced from face to face, trying to read something, but quickly gave up. He'd never been good at that anyway.
"Son," his father began, and the knot tightened still as Jack fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "As you may have noticed, your mother and I haven't been getting along lately."
Jack suppressed an eye roll. Like hell he hadn't noticed.
"So," he continued, "Your mother and I have come to an agreement. She's moving out. We're getting a divorce."