Disclaimer-I do not own Batman or anything related to The Dark Knight.
Disturbia
"No more gas, in the rig, can't even get it started.
Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even speak about it.
On my life, on my head, don't wanna think about it.
Feels like I'm going insane, yeah.
It's a thief in the night to come and grab you.
It can creep up inside you and consume you.
A disease of the mind, it can control you.
It's too close for comfort."
-Disturbia by Rihanna
Dark eyes looked around the hospital room, the right side of his face throbbing. The sixteen year old was having trouble remembering how he had ended up in the hospital, his blonde hair sticking up on end from sleep. His eyes landed on the figure of a fourteen year old across the room, her arm in a sling and a few cuts on her face. A groan left his lips as he sat up, alerting the blonde girl that he was awake.
"Jack!" she yelled, running over to the chair next to the bed. "Grandma just left to have a smoke,"
"Wh...where's Mom...and Da..." it was difficult to talk, the stitches pulling at his sensitive skin.
"They didn't make it,"
"You guys got hit." he muttered, his eyes trained on his sister's broken arm.
"Yeah," she nodded. "The car skidded sideways after hitting the barrier and..."
Jeannie was cut off as the door opened to reveal their grandmother and the doctor who was treating Jack. The doctor talked to both him and his grandmother as he ran some basic test on the sixteen year old, the only thing Jack heard was concussion and a small infection in the gash on his forearm.
"He'll need to stay here for a few more days," the doctor concluded, but Jack didn't care how long he had to stay; hospital visits were something he had become accustomed to over the years.
The rest of the day passed in a blur to the teenager, but he could care less. The only thing that ran through his mind was the fact that his mother was dead, the only person he cared about besides Jeannie was no longer around.
And it was all his fault.
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It had been a few weeks since the accident, and Jack found himself spending as much time as he could in his room at his grandmother's house. Jeannie was at the mall with her friends, picking up her life where it had left off and Jack considered her lucky for that reason. His dark eyes stared at the black threading that stretched from the right corner of his mouth to the edge of his cheekbone, the bumpiness of the skin rough under his finger tips.
"It's not going away, JJ." His grandmother's voice sounded from the door.
"I know." He muttered, his eyes watching her sit on his bed through the mirror. "Jeannie told you, didn't she?"
"She did," his mother had looked so much like his grandmother that Jack found it kind of scary. "It takes courage to stand up to your father every day for all those years, Jack."
"A lot of good it did me though," he scoffed, turning around to face her. "Dad still beat us. Why would he do that to us, Grandma? How can you hurt the people you love so easily like that?"
"I don't know," the elderly woman shook her head as she looked at her grandson, pain flashing in his eyes for a brief second.
"It's my fault," his voice was barely above a whisper. "He hit Mom and choked her, right in front of us. I was just so sick and tired of him treating her and Jeannie like that, and getting away with it on top of it all! I didn't think, I just grabbed the wheel and drove the car into that barrier..."
There were tears silently falling from his eyes as he looked at his grandmother, his shoulders shaking with the oncoming sobs.
"Mom's dead and Jeannie broke her arm because of me," he cried as soon as his grandmother pulled him to her, holding him tight. "I tried to protect them and I hurt them worse than Dad ever did. It's my fault Mom's dead..."
"No it's not, JJ." His grandmother's voice was gentle as she rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him. "You couldn't have known."
"I'm no better than that son of bitch." He choked out, burying his head into her shoulder.
"Jack Barrow Napier," he found himself held at arm's length from his grandmother. "Don't you ever say that again, do you understand me? You are nothing like your father. How many times did you end up in the hospital protecting Jeannie and you mother from him?"
Jack looked into his grandmother's eyes, begging her to see it his way. After a moment of silence it became clear to the older woman that there was no convincing her grandson he was wrong, so she gave him a hug and left the room. The sixteen year just stared at the green sheets of his bed, images of the crash filling his mind.
Jack looked up at the sound of a small cough, Jeannie standing in front of him. Her cuts had healed nicely on her face, the only noticeable one was above her left eyebrow, and her purple cast was already filled with signatures from her friends. The siblings just looked at each other for a few minutes before Jeannie threw her good arm around her brother's neck, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek.
"Thank you, Jack." She whispered into his ear.
"For what?" he asked, causing the fourteen year old to pull back from him.
"For always being there for me. For protecting me from Dad, and for protecting Mom." Jeannie was confused by his behavior, her brother never reacted that way when she thanked him.
"Don't thank me," he replied, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker. "I don't deserve it. If I really was protecting you and Mom, Dad would have stopped hitting you the first time. I was never protecting you two, I was just adding another punching bag to his fucking collection! I'm not a hero, so stop acting like I am Jeannie."
"Jack..." she started, only to stop at the look in his eyes.
"What? Are you gonna say I am hero? If I was a hero, Jeannie, Mom would still be here and you wouldn't have broken your arm." He pointed out, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Jack looked up as Jeannie placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a smile. He knew she wanted to see his smile, but he couldn't force himself to give it to her. The fourteen year old sat next to him and sighed, her heading resting on his shoulder.
"I wish I knew why he hit us," she whispered.
"I wish I knew why he stopped loving us." Jack wrapped his arm around Jeannie's shoulder and sighed. "Maybe things would've been different,"
The sixteen looked at his sister when he heard her soft sobs, his arms holding her close to him. He rested his chin on top of her head and sighed, Jeannie's small arm wrapping around him.
"It's gonna be okay, Jeannie." He whispered. "I promise."
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Jack stared at the headstone, guilt pulling at him at the sight of his mother's name. It was getting to the point where Jack envied Jeannie for her ability to live a normal life, the smile he tried to keep on her face in the past years now coming to her with ease now. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting o his father's tombstone. A smile tugged at his lips but he walked away, disgusted with himself for thinking of his father.
He walked back to his grandmother's house, his head bowed down with the collar of his jacket turned up. He couldn't stand the looks his stitches got him; from pity to disgust, he hated all the looks he got. Jack was glad school didn't start up again for another three weeks, which gave him plenty of time to get the stitches out. The sixteen year old knew the worry his grandmother and sister felt for him, he had cut out all of his friends from his life and retreated into himself. He hadn't talked about the crash or anything else since his breakdown, it wasn't healthy but it was his way of dealing with everything.
"Hey Jack," he looked up as soon as he walked into the house, Jeannie smiling at him. "Me and Grandma are going to the movies. Do you want to come with us?"
"Have fun." He replied before walking to his room, laying on his bed as he began to read the book on his nightstand.
The words of Stephen King were etched into his mind, the left corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. Jack didn't feel bad about turning down Jeannie's offer; if anything he did them a favor. Had he gone with them, people would have just stared and whispered about him the whole time. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. As he read the book, the sixteen year old gently touched his stitched up cheek and marveled at the loss of feeling.
Dark eyes looked up at the mirror across from the bed, his attention going straight to the damaged skin. Even though the black thread would be gone, there would be a nice scar running the length of the slice. Jack went back to reading, and closed his eyes at the mental image his mind produced.
"School's gonna be hell," he sighed.
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"They're all the same," the voice came up behind him, Jack turning around to see a white painted face. "They know what's going on around them, but they refuse to see how we really act."
Jack licked his dried lips, the grin on the stranger's face made eerie by the red lipstick that traced it. The sixteen year old backed up until he hit the wall, the smiling face of the clown looming over him. The fear washed over the teenager as he watched the clown walk closer to him, he had always hated clowns and there was something about this one's grin that furthered his fear.
"Look familiar, kid?" the voice was cheerful, but the eyes told a darker story.
It was then that Jack noticed the scarred cheeks, his own hand flying up to his right cheek. His heart beat against his rib cage, the sound of hysterical laughter filling his ears. The laugh was eerie and haunting, mocking the dim atmosphere of the situation. When all became silent again, the sixteen year old didn't know if the silence or the laughter disturbed him more.
"You should smile more, Jack." In a second, the clown was gripping Jack's chin and forcing his left cheek to face him.
The clown's foul breath invaded his nostrils, Jack closing his eyes at the decaying teeth in front of him. There was another bout of laughter as a clammy hand traced his left cheek, forming something similar to the wound on his opposite cheek. The teenager winced at the sound of an opening switchblade, his mind reeling to the night he received his "smirk".
"Why so serious?" dark chuckles followed the question as the feeling of cool metal forced its way to the left corner of his mouth, slowly slicing the skin. "Let's bring out that award winning grin."
A scream ripped through Jack's throat as the blade was brought swiftly through his cheek, blood pouring down his face. Giggles filled the dim room as the blonde fell to the floor, his own blood clinging to his body. Dark eyes looked up at the twisted grin of the clown, and Jack soon found himself giggling just as insanely as his attacker.
Jack sat up in bed, his fingers flying to the left side of his face. He felt nothing but flawless skin and sweat, his nightmare's images fading fast. A shaky breath left his chapped lips as he built enough courage to get out of his bed, the artificial breeze created by his fan cooling his sweat drenched skin. His cautious steps led him to the bathroom down the hall, his finger switching the light on and swiftly closing the door.
"Get a grip, Jack." He whispered to himself as he stared at his reflection, his skin looking paler than usual. "You've had plenty of nightmares before and you've never acted like this,"
Dark eyes stared into dark eyes, the sixteen calming his breathing as he studied his reflection. His mind tried to figure out why the dream had terrified him, but nothing came to him. Jack closed his eyes as his heart beat slowed to a more acceptable rhythm, hands gripping the sink's edge as he opened his eyes to see the marble of the sink.
"It was just another dream," the words were breathed out while he brought his gaze back to the mirror. "It was just a dream."
'Was it?' the breathy voice sounded in his ear and Jack flung back into the wall, his eyes glued to the glass.
"This isn't real, Jack. It's just a lasting..."
'And what if it isn't, kid?' the voice was coming from the mirror, the reflection no longer his face but the face of that scarred clown.
Once the laughter started, the teenager let out a bestial yell as his fists flew into the glass. He kept pounding the mirror until it cracked, and even then he beat his fists harder against it. Jack saw the pieces of the mirror chip off and saw the red smears on the glass, but he kept up his beating. Every time his skin made contact with the broken mirror, a yell left his mouth until his throat was raw.
"Jack!" Jeannie forced herself between her brother and the sink, her good arm pushing him back when he struggled forward.
"Move, Jeannie!" Jack growled as he shoved the fourteen year old to the side, his eyes narrowed at the shattered image of the clown. "I'm gonna kill that fucker and make him stop laughing!"
The soft thud made Jack turn to look at his sister, her broken arm held close to her body as her green eyes widened in fear. Realization dawned on him as he stared at her, his muscles relaxing and the sharp pain in his fists finally hit him when he looked at the blood. The sixteen year old shook his head, the word 'sorry' leaving his mouth before he rushed out of the bathroom and passed his grandmother.
His bedroom door slammed shut and he leaned against it, his whole body shaking from what he had done. The pain in his hands was the last thing on his mind as he slid down the door, the carpet burning the cuts.
"I hit her," Jack whispered, his dark eyes stared at the opposite wall as he brought his had back into the door a number of times.
The teenager ignored the call of his name, his eyes never leaving the wall as his ear rang with the echo of that laughter. For the rest of the night, Jack couldn't bring himself to sleep.
A/N-Alright, another chapter! So I'm on Spring Break and next week I'll be leaving for New York...so that means lots of time to write more chapters for this story. I know the last chapter was very exciting or edgey, so I hope this chapter makes up for what the first one lacked. Anyways, thanks to the reviewer for the first chapter, your review meant a lot and let me know that I have at least one person who wants this story to be followed through to end. And for those of you have read it/favored it...thanks to you also.
Let me know what you'd like to see/suggestions for future chapters. Thanks.
S.
