"Not like that! 'Ere! Give it back! You hold it like this!" Rob had settled the knife expertly between thin, veiny fingers.

"Hold it like it's a darling companion, hold it like you're scared to let it go. You should be scared to let it go. It's an, ah, extension of yourself boy."

Jack nodded and took the blade back. He caressed it just as Rob had, the handle set into his palm as if it belonged there. He drew it closer to his body and then lashed it out again, Rob laughed joyfully, clapping his hands and giving a hoot. Jack didn't smile but never the less was happy at the junkie's reaction, he was doing something right. Jack watched the knife intently as he moved it in his hand, eyes never leaving its deadly grace.

"Haha! Kid, you really are a natural! But stare at it like that any longer and I'm scared to know what your face will look like after a session! Ahaheha!"

A small sense of pride filled him, 'a natural'.

"C'me on kid, let's go back inside, it's too cold out here."

Jack followed Rob back to his apartment and when they entered the old man was eyeing him suspiciously, the knife still sat in his hand.

"Ya let 'im hold your blade?"

"Yeah! Haha, he's a natural with the beauty!" There was that pride again.

"Fix me up old man! And you boy! C'me sit down!"

Apparently Rob was in a great mood. Jack listened though and took a seat on a god awful armchair next to the couch. It was comfortable despite its terrible appearance. Just like the night before the syringe was used and the spoon looked dirty as well. Jack watched intently as the old man fixed two, his gag reflex not acting up this time. Rob tied off the blood supply in his arm and smacked the veins. He took the syringe gratefully from the old man, who was also tying up his own arm. After a few more seconds of searching for a vein he stuck the needle in but didn't push down.

"Fuck I missed!" He pulled it back out and blood pooled in a little drop.

After another few attempts he was getting careless. The crease in Rob's elbow was covered in little red dots. His hand was shaking and he looked nervous, wild even.

"He-hey! C'me 'er boy. Find a vein will ya? My fucking hands..."

Jack went to him, without telling him that it wasn't his hands that were the problem. Rob handed him over the syringe and tied his other arm. Jack made sure not to touch any of Robs blood, who knew what disease's he had, and stuck him. He was surprised when Rob gave a content sigh as he pushed the liquid into his arm. He pulled out the needle carefully and placed it on the table. Blood pooled again as he removed the band from the junkies arm.

Jack sat back down in the chair and began fiddling with the knife. The old man stuck himself and removed the needle in fluid motions as he sat back against the couch.

"Thanks boy." Rob finally muttered.

Jack inclined his head.

"So, ah, tell me something 'bout yourself. Why're ya all bruised and battered?"

Jack didn't say anything.

The junkie turned his head towards the boy, it rolled slightly and his eyes looked unfocused.

"C'me on. Who broke that pretty face of yours?"

Jack reached up and tenderly touched his nose, "It's none of your concern."

The chuckle emitted from Rob was dark.

"Fair enough, how about, why'd you decided to learn from me?"

Jack looked down at the knife in his hands.

"So I'll take it you figured helping out a junkie was fair trade for self defense."

It wasn't a question so Jack didn't answer.

It was late, later than Jack had thought, by the time he had left the apartment. The sun was setting on the winter horizon, gleaming a wonderful orangey red. Jack decided to jog home; he didn't want to think about what would happen to him if he was late for dinner. As he passed the park he noticed a few kids playing, they were ducked behind the fallen equipment and throwing snowballs at each other. They didn't look too young, probably around 8 or 9 years old.

But it wasn't the snowballs that got his attention, it was their laughter. It was carefree, joyous, one little boy in particular was laughing loudest. It sounded familiar to him and he stopped jogging. He watched as the boy picked up a generous sized snowball and threw it at a little girl with brunette pigtails. She smiled and it rivaled the sun in brightness. The giggles continued as they children continued to play.

Before long parents began beckoning at the children, calling them inside for mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. All but one had left. The little boy stood, smile slowly fading from his face and Jack watched. In a sudden movement the boy kicked the ground harshly; snow flew up and settled back down just as quick. The little boy noticed Jack after a few more moments, his eyes looking at the bruises. For a second Jack thought the boy was going to run but instead he lifted a tiny hand and touched his own cheek.

A red flush crossed the boys face as he did so and he turned away before plopping on the broken swing set. Somewhere in the back of his mind Jack knew he needed to get home but figured it could wait. Something was drawing him near the boy; something was telling him that they were the same. Same. He reached the boys swing in a few short strides and just stood there. The little boy took to scuffing the toes of his shoes on the ground. Jack took the swing next to him, cautiously; it groaned but held his weight surprisingly.

They didn't speak but out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see the boy taking quick glances at him. He finally turned to look at the boy and the sight made him cringe inwardly. The boy's right cheek was a deep purple and his eye was red instead of white. The little boy stared him down, probably taking in his own features, his own purple. Jack still didn't speak, what was he supposed to say? That everything was going to be okay? That was just stupid.

The little boy spoke up first.

"My name's Henry. What's yours?"

"Jack."

"Jack? I don't like that name. My mommy's boyfriend is named Jack."

"Yeah?" This conversation was already awkward.

"Yeah. I'm going to call you Buck. That's my puppy's name. I picked it out."

"Okay."

"So..." The boy stopped, biting his lip nervously, "So how'd ya get those bruises?"

Jack almost didn't hear the sentence but before he could answer the boy was talking again.

"Did-did you get in trouble? Were you a bad boy too? I was a bad boy, Jack told me so."

Jack didn't say anything.

"Mommy was mad at Jack when he did this. She cried a lot. I don't like to see my mommy cry."

Me either.

"So what'd you do?"

"I-"

"Henry! Get over here now!"

Jack saw a man yelling from across the street. Henry made a face before standing up.

"That's Jack."

Jack nodded.

"Well I better go... It was going meeting you Buck!"

The little boy bounced away quickly. When he reached the man he was grabbed by his upper arm roughly and shoved inside. The man turned to glare at Jack then followed the little boy. Jack sat on the swing a while longer before decided he was much too late and should have been home long ago. As he left the park he looked at the house the little boy had gone into. The little boys face was pressed against the window and when he saw Jack look he waved happily. Jack waved back before continuing down the street. That was the last time he saw Henry.

"You good for nothing piece of shit!" His father's boot collided with his ribs, if it hadn't been broken the night before it was now.

"First you run off last night! Then I get a call from school saying you didn't go in! Then you come home late for dinner! I don't know what kind of game you're playing but it stops now!" The next kick hit him in the shin.

Pain radiated through Jacks body, he saw stars behind his closed lids. Jack let out a tiny whimper and he hated it. He hated giving his father any sort of satisfaction. He could hear his mother crying in the background, broken sobs. The beating continued and his father's choice of words only grew more colorful. A swift kick to the side of his head and vomit rushed from between clenched teeth.

"Dan! Stop! You're going to kill him!"

Jack barely opened his eyes but he could see two black figures fighting.

"Cindy! What did I tell you about getting in the way?"

There was a loud crash and his mother cried out.

"You stupid, useless bitch!"

Jack saw the larger shadow reach down and smack the smaller, cowering one. He moved his arm out, trying to reach it, to protect it but his body just refused to do as he wanted. Another smack. Another. Another. The large shadow moved to him again, if Jack was able to say for sure he would, that it was grinning. Not the face but the entire shadow itself. He felt the kick, the dull thump against his back but he didn't feel the pain from it.

"You piece of shit! Look at what you made me do! Do you like me hurting your mother? Huh?"

Jack tried to say 'no'. He tried to force his lips into moving but they refused, much like the rest of his body. The shadow moved away from his line of sight after a few more kicks and from what he could hear it was opening a bottle far off. The smaller shadow was crawling towards him; soft, cold fingers pressed against his temple. Wet tears dropped onto his cheeks but he couldn't hear the crying if it was. His head was absolutely swimming.

Jack tried to stay awake, he tried to move, he really tried but the pain in his head was too much. His eyes slowly began to shut and a comforting blackness took over.

When Jack woke up he was in the same position that he had been in falling unconscious. His entire body was radiating off a dull throb and when he tried to move it turned into a racing fire. Slowly, very slowly, but surely he lifted himself off the ground and began walking towards the stairs. He struggled to breathe and he felt himself slump forwards into a wall. The sound brought his mother running and she put her hands under his arm in an attempt to help him.

"You need to take a shower Jack."

He didn't even nod. They continued walking and Jack was, for the first time in a long time, thankful for his mother. As they passed the din Jack heard his father's loud snores over late night television. They climbed the stairs carefully and he hissed every so often. When they finally reached the bathroom his mother set him down on the toilet. Jack still felt woozy and his body swayed, crashing into the side of the sink. His mother fretted before wetting a cloth with cool water and dropped to her knees in front of him; she began cleaning his face, ridding it of the blood and vomit.

Through hazy eyes he noticed his mother sporting a new bruise. His fingers reached out to touch it but missed and instead he slumped forward into her. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her chest tightly. She cried for what seemed like hours to Jack, her thin fingers stroking his hair and back. After some time she took him by the shoulders and pushed him back. He could barely make out the small smile she had.

"Jack... My precious Jack."

She sniffed and leaned forward, pressing warm lips to his forehead. She doused the cloth again and continued what she had started. Soon his face was clean but he still felt dirty.

"Jack. Come on my darling. You need to shower. It'll help clear your head."

His mother helped him undress and she bit her lip at the state of his body. He leaned against the sink now, as she started the shower and turned the warm water high. He tried to stand but it was difficult so she helped him in. He sat on the bottom of the shower, shaking from the heat on his cold body. His mother grabbed the wash cloth and began rinsing his body. The soap and water felt good after a while and he rested his head against his mothers shoulder. Her upper body was soaked through but she seemed not to care.

When she felt he was clean enough she shut the water off and helped him out, wrapping a towel around his body tightly. She took him to his room and placed him on his bed. Jacks head was a bit clearer but he was still feeling sick by all the movement. He laid back as his mother left to get his clothes and let his eyes shut. It seemed like forever passed but his mother was back and she was helping him into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

He also felt her slip his feet into a pair of socks. She tucked him in carefully and stayed sitting on his bed. Her fingers stroked the hair out of his face and she was smiling, somewhat bitter sweet. The gentle hands continued and he was being lulled into a sleep. His eyelids continued to flicker before he finally gave into the sand mans request. His body just couldn't fight it any longer. He felt those warm lips press against his forehead again.

"Goodnight my darling."

Hey! Reviews are lovely! But that's besides the point, I just want to thank 'HoistTheColours' for her very wonderful reviews! She's the author of 'Clockwork' and other wonderous Joker fanfiction so check her stuff out!