This is a collection of semi-connected one-shots and vignettes about the pasts of the Four Horsemen (plus Dylan and Alma), delving deeper into the murky, dark and unexplored parts of their lives that, along with the happier moments, have made them who they are.
WARNING - Mentions of mental and physical child abuse in this chapter, so proceed at your own risk.
Till all my sleeves are stained red,
From all the truth that I've said
So tell me what you want to hear,
Something that will light those ears
Sick of all the insincere,
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
- One Republic, "Secrets"
Jack has always been the soft target.
When he was a child, the foster system often shuttled him between houses, and even though he was a pretty boy with a pretty face and an attitude as meek as his soft voice, no family never really kept him for long. Part of the reason was his kleptomania, but part of the reason was that the Piano Room monster, as they called it, never truly abandoned him.
It all started on his tenth birthday.
He had been in foster system for two years, and was quietly sneaking outside his dorm when a tall, thin man with a soft smile beckoned at him. If the small cake and the ten candles flickering on it had not been inviting enough, Jack saw a pack of cards and a small magic kit in the man's hand, and tiptoed as fast his small feet could noiselessly carry him.
The man leads him down a corridor unexplored, with Jack having never set foot there due to the older children and the warden living there. At the end of the hallway, they enter what seems like a piano room, from the likes of it. "Happy Birthday, kiddo," the man says, pushing the small chocolate cake towards him. Jack, having never experienced such goodness from anyone since the death of his parents, gobbles down the cake as fast he can, relishing the change in taste from the flavourless grey porridge they eat everyday.
The man nudges the pack of cards of him."The kids say you're good. Want to show me?" After being ridiculed for so long by most people, he's glad to find someone who appreciates his little skill set.
For the first few weeks, he's thrilled, knowing that he has a play partner who will cheer for him in his little midnight "shows", whisper-yelling and hooting, his twenty thousand clapping like one.
He receives a chocolate for every trick the man manages NOT to decipher (which are quite a few), and his roommates are surprised to see the quite little 'Wildermouse' boisterous and more confident than ever.
A few months later, the favours became a lot more personal.
"Hey buddy, want to see something more?" He fills up with hate and self-loathing now, wishing his round-faced naive self had been a little more suspicious and a lot less trusting. The man leads him down the same corridor, but this time, they don't stop at the piano room. "It might hurt a little, but I promise, it will be fun," the man whispers as he feels a hand tug at his faded jeans.
A few hours later, he is huddled in a corner. He hurts terribly, but what makes him cry is the fact that it all feels so wrong, whatever it is. No one has ever touched him like this - my parents loved me too, but they never touched me like that.
He tries to tell himself it was nothing when the following morning a box of chocolates bigger than he had ever seen is presented to him, and a promise that the man will come back for him soon.
And he does, but when that nine year old tearfully clutching her teddy is led in by the matron, the man momentarily forgets his existence, and as much as it annoys Jack to be deprived of his treats, he's glad he isn't bleeding and bruised anymore. Three weeks later, Jack notices the teddy bear girl (Cara, he later learns) huddled in a corner outside the piano room, sobbing as she tugs at her frayed and badly-stained baby blue dress.
"I want mummy," she mumbles, and Jack looks around for a chocolate he can sneak from the girl, just so he can present like a treat to cheer her up, but finds none.
"He didn't give you any chocolate?" She looks at him, shaking her head with tear-filled eyes. A matron passes by, her eyes skating the corridor as if avoiding a bothersome insect. He vows the little girl will never have to enter the piano room again, and, thinking upon that now, his chest fills with something akin to pride and shame mixed together - at the self-sacrifice and that crippling feeling of having no other way out.
So when he returns from the seventh home he's been kicked out of, he's glad at seeing a family smile at him in a way that indicates adoption.
Quiet, unassuming and devilishly handsome, they pronounce a thirteen year-old him a perfect fit for their household. "He will be a lovely older brother for our little girl - Jack and Jane!" The lady cooes as he hugs him, stroking his brown hair as the father beams in delight.
After a few weeks of quiet, he is returning from the neighbourhood soccer game, wishing a teammate goodbye when a large figure blocks his way.
Jack remembers blindly sprinting, frantically latching every bolt in the house, much to the consternation of his mother as her adoptive son runs to his room as if running for dear life. It's only when the new gardener's undue interest in him is seen does she realise the case.
"He needs to be sent back," she reasons with her husband a fortnight later, him hiding behind the stairs, paralysed with fear. He isn't going back to that hellhole - not ever. So when he hears his adoptive father agreeing, he takes the few things he holds dear, along with a few hundred dollars, and bolts.
Ten hours later, when his sleepy eyes open to the Penn Station, New York City, joy and relief fill him on the realisation of his freedom, and the fact that Boston and its terror are long left behind.