A/N: Wow, two chapters in one day, you should all be proud, since this is probably never going to happen again this decade. Well, here's chapter 2!
My Wife's Brother
Chapter 2
I was born in Brooklyn, New York; although if you were to tell Spot that I'd soak ya! Oh, wait, I can't really soak ya, seeing as I'm dead... But I could always make you soak your pants, if you get what I'm saying.
Now back to my autobiography. My birth mother's name was Anna Kelly at the time I was born. She named my Jack Kelly after her father, but because she was a single teenage woman she was forced to sell me to a rich family named the Sullivan.
My new 'father's' name was Francis Jeffrey Sullivan. He was a short man with an even shorter temper. Alice Sullivan, however, was a saint. She and her daughter Maria really were. How they managed to live with my 'father', I don't think I'll ever know, unless of course God'll be able to tell me.
Now back to my 'father'. He was kind enough to us when he was sober. But when he was drunk, everyone would hide. I remember that he was always upset that 'a little bitch' could have a son, while 'a pure-breed lady' couldn't pull off having anything more than a stupid fool of a daughter.
These drunken rants were the first time I ever heard about my mother. When I was about five I went to ask Maria, who was about nineteen at the time, if she knew anything about my parents. She smiled sweetly as she gave me the normal "They both love you a lot, Frankie" line.
"But Maria," I managed to complain as tears came streaming out of my eyes, "I heard daddy say that my mom was a young bitch from Brooklyn, does that mean I'm a doggie?"
We had this conversation many times, each time she would hug me and tell me that she was positive that I wasn't a dog.
After my sixth birthday, my father went out drinking again, and Maria took me to Brooklyn. It was that night that I met my mother for the first time. Her new name was Anna Conlon and she had a new little boy who looked about four and a baby at her breast.
Well, the boy's name was Jack Spot Conlon. My mother was so heartbroken that she had to give me up that she couldn't think of anything else. So she named her next son, Jack to fill the empty whole in her heart. So you see, when I told Jack that my mother called me Jack Kelly, I wasn't lying.
For a few months after our first visit, Maria and I went to see my mother every afternoon. After about the seventh time, mama came with us to visit her.
On my last visit with my mother she gave me an oversized black cowboy hat and told me that it was my father's, my real father's. She also told me that he lived in a city out west called Santa Fe. She also told me to never forget that I was born for a reason, even if no one knew what it was yet. She kissed me and held me tight before adding, "You be good to your mom and sister Jack Kelly." I promise that I would before going home with Maria and Mama.
When we got to the house, Frances was at the door.
"So, where has my family been?" He slurred as Mama pressed my hat into my hands and whispered that I needed to go and hide.
"Mama," I started to complain, but Alice came and picked me up.
"Don't forget what your other ma told you. You have to be a good boy." She kissed my forehead as she placed me in one of the kitchen cupboard. "Now, promise me that you leave until Mama or I come and get you."
My eyes started to tear as she hugged me, "Promise me, Frankie."
"I promise, Maria, I promise." She shut the door and everything went dark.
All I could hear was lifted voices, then two gunshots and then silence. I stayed in the cupboard for what felt like an eternity, before my stomach kicked in.
It was five o'clock p.m. when I left my hiding place and the bulls were all over my house. I walked into the front room, where I saw a sight that still haunts me now, after death. Mama and Maria both lay on the floor dead with a single bullet hole between the eyes. I stared for a few minutes before a cop saw me.
"How'd you get in here, Kid?" He asked as he put my hat on my head. I blinked a few times, unwilling to cry again.
"I live here," I whispered.
The shook his head as he stopped smiling, "What's your name, kid?"
"Frankie Sullivan, sir." I don't know why I choose to use that name, but now I think it was in memory of their sacrifice for me. When I saw my 'father' talking to another cop I snapped and told the cop everything I could remember about that night. Then he hugged me, reassuring me that I had done the night thing.
My 'father' admitted his sin to the police; before they took him away he somehow managed to convince them to talk to his 'poor son' one last time. He said it was to apologize, but it wasn't. The conversation stayed with me for a long time.
"Papa." I looked at him my eyes almost to the point of tears, "Why?"
He hit me. "It's all you fault, Jack." He spat out my real name. "If you would have just kept your damn bastard mouth shut, they would still be alive."
I looked at him now crying. "I'm sorry, Papa."
He pulled me into a hug, to make the police think we had been a happy father and son. I lost everything that day. But it was the guilt of the deaths that lead my life for the longest time.
A/N: Well, chapter 2 is now done. The next chapter will be full of even more Jack-ish sob stories. Well, that's all until Chapter 3, the Refuge.
My Wife's Brother
Chapter 2
I was born in Brooklyn, New York; although if you were to tell Spot that I'd soak ya! Oh, wait, I can't really soak ya, seeing as I'm dead... But I could always make you soak your pants, if you get what I'm saying.
Now back to my autobiography. My birth mother's name was Anna Kelly at the time I was born. She named my Jack Kelly after her father, but because she was a single teenage woman she was forced to sell me to a rich family named the Sullivan.
My new 'father's' name was Francis Jeffrey Sullivan. He was a short man with an even shorter temper. Alice Sullivan, however, was a saint. She and her daughter Maria really were. How they managed to live with my 'father', I don't think I'll ever know, unless of course God'll be able to tell me.
Now back to my 'father'. He was kind enough to us when he was sober. But when he was drunk, everyone would hide. I remember that he was always upset that 'a little bitch' could have a son, while 'a pure-breed lady' couldn't pull off having anything more than a stupid fool of a daughter.
These drunken rants were the first time I ever heard about my mother. When I was about five I went to ask Maria, who was about nineteen at the time, if she knew anything about my parents. She smiled sweetly as she gave me the normal "They both love you a lot, Frankie" line.
"But Maria," I managed to complain as tears came streaming out of my eyes, "I heard daddy say that my mom was a young bitch from Brooklyn, does that mean I'm a doggie?"
We had this conversation many times, each time she would hug me and tell me that she was positive that I wasn't a dog.
After my sixth birthday, my father went out drinking again, and Maria took me to Brooklyn. It was that night that I met my mother for the first time. Her new name was Anna Conlon and she had a new little boy who looked about four and a baby at her breast.
Well, the boy's name was Jack Spot Conlon. My mother was so heartbroken that she had to give me up that she couldn't think of anything else. So she named her next son, Jack to fill the empty whole in her heart. So you see, when I told Jack that my mother called me Jack Kelly, I wasn't lying.
For a few months after our first visit, Maria and I went to see my mother every afternoon. After about the seventh time, mama came with us to visit her.
On my last visit with my mother she gave me an oversized black cowboy hat and told me that it was my father's, my real father's. She also told me that he lived in a city out west called Santa Fe. She also told me to never forget that I was born for a reason, even if no one knew what it was yet. She kissed me and held me tight before adding, "You be good to your mom and sister Jack Kelly." I promise that I would before going home with Maria and Mama.
When we got to the house, Frances was at the door.
"So, where has my family been?" He slurred as Mama pressed my hat into my hands and whispered that I needed to go and hide.
"Mama," I started to complain, but Alice came and picked me up.
"Don't forget what your other ma told you. You have to be a good boy." She kissed my forehead as she placed me in one of the kitchen cupboard. "Now, promise me that you leave until Mama or I come and get you."
My eyes started to tear as she hugged me, "Promise me, Frankie."
"I promise, Maria, I promise." She shut the door and everything went dark.
All I could hear was lifted voices, then two gunshots and then silence. I stayed in the cupboard for what felt like an eternity, before my stomach kicked in.
It was five o'clock p.m. when I left my hiding place and the bulls were all over my house. I walked into the front room, where I saw a sight that still haunts me now, after death. Mama and Maria both lay on the floor dead with a single bullet hole between the eyes. I stared for a few minutes before a cop saw me.
"How'd you get in here, Kid?" He asked as he put my hat on my head. I blinked a few times, unwilling to cry again.
"I live here," I whispered.
The shook his head as he stopped smiling, "What's your name, kid?"
"Frankie Sullivan, sir." I don't know why I choose to use that name, but now I think it was in memory of their sacrifice for me. When I saw my 'father' talking to another cop I snapped and told the cop everything I could remember about that night. Then he hugged me, reassuring me that I had done the night thing.
My 'father' admitted his sin to the police; before they took him away he somehow managed to convince them to talk to his 'poor son' one last time. He said it was to apologize, but it wasn't. The conversation stayed with me for a long time.
"Papa." I looked at him my eyes almost to the point of tears, "Why?"
He hit me. "It's all you fault, Jack." He spat out my real name. "If you would have just kept your damn bastard mouth shut, they would still be alive."
I looked at him now crying. "I'm sorry, Papa."
He pulled me into a hug, to make the police think we had been a happy father and son. I lost everything that day. But it was the guilt of the deaths that lead my life for the longest time.
A/N: Well, chapter 2 is now done. The next chapter will be full of even more Jack-ish sob stories. Well, that's all until Chapter 3, the Refuge.