Hey guys! Sorry for the wait... Here's the next chapter! This is chapter is NOT for younger kids due to hints of child abuse. Sorry! Poor Jacky didn't exactly have an ideal childhood:(
Disclaimer: *sigh*
~Rosey
Chapter Seven: Lost and Afraid
"And da cowboy got on his horse and rode off into da sunset, tinking about what other adventures awaited him da next morning in Santa Fe," thirteen-year-old Frankie closed the book, turning to Andy with a small smile. "The end."
Andy curled up against his brother's shoulder, looking up at Frankie. "I wanna go to Santa Fe, Frankie," he mumbled.
"We will," Francis promised. But even back then Francis Sullivan wasn't the best at thinking things all the way through, and he honestly had no idea how he would keep that promise to his younger brother.
Frankie shifted in the chair, wincing as his broken arm was jostled. He was relieved his father wasn't home at the moment, and he savored every second Mr. Sullivan wasn't in the house. Frankie's black eye also throbbed with pain and he sighed, missing his mother more than anything. When she was alive, at least his father would leave him alone. Now that she was gone, he had no such luck.
"Frankie?" Andy spoke up, looking up at his brother again. "I want a bandanna too."
Francis fingered the red bandanna around his neck, nodding. "I'll get ya one, Andy." Again, he had no idea how, but that was no matter to either of them.
"So...how'd ya sleep last night?" Andy asked, trying to make any kind of conversation at all.
"On me back, Andy," Frankie replied with a tiny smirk. Yes, my dear reader, his Jack Kelly wise-guy personality was developing, and, yes, he rather liked it.
Andy chuckled, nodding. "You always say dat."
"It's usually true, too," Frankie laughed, ruffling Andy's hair.
Suddenly, the door to the apartment burst open and Mr. Sullivan stumbled in, a beer bottle in his hand. "Hey!" he slurred, walking unsteadily. "Don't you know how to greet yer father when he comes home?"
"Hey, Pop," Frankie said nervously, getting to his feet. He faced Andy and whispered to him in a quiet voice. "Go get in the closet."
Knowing better than to argue, Andy hurried towards the closet and shut the door while Frankie faced their father.
Then, everything happened too fast. Mr. Sullivan made a lunge at Frankie, but tripped in his drunken state and slipped, the beer bottle flying from his hand onto the lit stove. An explosive sound erupted into the air, and a massive fire spread from the stove to the floor almost instantly. Mr. Sullivan made some drunken slur and then raced out the door. Frankie hurried towards the closet, screaming to Andy. But the door was stuck. He heard his brother inside. He had to get him out he had to get him out he had to get him...
But the smoke was so thick and black that Francis couldn't breathe, and when he fell and hit his head against the closet door handle, everything went totally black.
DUN DUN DUNN! CLIFFY!
PS: Child abuse is a very serious and real problem. If you or anyone you know has problems with this horrible crime, please contact an adult near to you for help.
REVIEW please!
~Rosey
