A/N: Ok, for everyone who doesn't read my Hyde fanfic, I apologize about lack of update, but I broke my arm, and it sucks typing one handed. Not to mention, do you have any idea how mindlessly insane you can go when a whole section of your body itches, but you physically cannot itch it?
*ahem* anyways. So yes, this chapter is a little shorter than what I normally do, but it's leading up to (what I think will be) the last two chapters of this story. Yes, sadness, story is ending, but I might be doing a sequel. And hey, you still have two more LONG chapter coming. If everything goes to plan, and I can stave off attacks by the plot bunnies, or the sneaky whisperings of my muse, that is. :D
Being said, this is a disturbing chapter, with graphic mentions of rape. Not graphic rape, but graphic mention. You'll understand.
"I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid; I just wanna show you how to keep someone from doin' this-" He swatted him again "-Or that-" He smacked him on the other side "-Or somethin' like that!" Bobby laughed as he pushed the kid, knocking him over. "Come on."
"Fuckin' quit already!" Jack swore, smacking Bobby's hand away as the older boy tried swatting him again.
"Good! You got some reflexes, kid; I can use that! Can teach you somethin'; got some fuckin' potential!" Bobby said enthusiastically, swatting at him again. He groaned as his palm connected harder than he intended, sending the kid crashing into the ground again. "Oh come on! You had somethin' goin'! You gonna let me teach you, or you wanna get used as as a fuckin' punchin' bag your whole life?"
Jack wiped the blood from his lip, and glared at Bobby. "What's it matter, huh? I'm a fuckin' whore," He spat, angrily swiping the tears from his eyes. "I fuck, or get fucked. I'm a stupid, cock-sucking whore, and that's all I'll ever be."
The solid right hook caught him off guard, knocking him on his back. Before he could react -or even think to react- Bobby was on top of him, straddling him.
Jack started to struggle as Bobby began to unzip his own pants. Jack opened his mouth to scream -to fucking beg- but Bobby's hand clamped down on his mouth.
"Oh, none of that now," Bobby hissed, and more tears streamed down Jack's face at the change in the older boy's voice. "You said this was all you were good for. That you were a whore. Well, this is what whores do; this is what whores enjoy. This what you enjoy, Jackie?"
Jack shook his head violently, eyes wide, body shaking. But Bobby only smiled evilly.
"That's it, kid. I'm gonna take my hand off, and you're gonna tell me how much you like this. How much you love this, like a good little whore. You scream and... well, let's just say you don't wanna scream, Jackie."
Jack gulped in a deep breath, trying to keep from becoming hysterical, trying to stop hyperventilating. It took him a few seconds to get to the point where he could speak, and when he finally did, he sickened himself with how pitiful he sounded.
"No, please," He whispered. "Don't, please, Bobby, please. I'm sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean it, I'll do what you want, just please don't. Please," He begged, hating how pathetic he sounded.
He couldn't help himself as he started sobbing uncontrollably. He wasn't even aware of Bobby moving off of him; he just knew the force stopping him from moving was gone, allowing him to curl into a tight little ball.
He wasn't sure how long he cried. Wasn't sure ho long it was before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He yelped, trying to pull away, but the hand tightened, gentle but firm.
"Jackie. Hey, look at me, kid."
The voice matched the hand, and Jack moved just enough to look into Bobby's eyes. What he saw shocked him to the core.
Sadness. Sympathy. And pain. Gut wrenching pain. Almost like...
"Yeah, kid. That's right. I wasn't always like this. Back in the day, I was a hell of a lot worse than you are now."
Jack's eyes widened in disbelief, and he opened his mouth to deny it -it couldn't be possible- but he couldn't speak.
Bobby knew what he was trying to say anyways.
"Yeah, kid. My dad started fuckin' me when I was three. My brother -my real, blood brother- told me he'd been molestin' me from the day I first came home from the hospital. Hell, until I was nine, I'd spread my legs whenever somebody looked at me sideways. Fuck, he used my ass so much, it still... It still hurts to shit," Bobby finished roughly. "He's dead, by the way. My brother. My dad shot him, my mom, my little sister and me."
"What... what were their names?" Jack asked hoarsely, still wrapped in his little ball. Hell, if people could get to Bobby, what chance did he have?
"Billy and Hannah. Billy was thirteen. Hanni was five."
"Did he... did he ra-..." Jack cut off, unable to finish.
Bobby smiled sardonically. "Did he fuck them too? Billy, yeah. Not Hanni, though. Didn't like girls. Billy used to swear the only reason he married mom was to get boys of his own." He laughed bitterly, before Jack heard Bobby's zippo open, and smelled the cigarette smoke.
Jack still didn't move as he asked, "Did... did your mom and sister... I mean did he... Did he kill them too?"
"Yeah," Bobby said slowly. "He killed them too. Killed 'em first, actually, before me and Billy got home.
"He got my mom in the bedroom. She spent most of the day layin' in there sleepin', so it wasn't that hard for him. Lookin' back, I think she hid in there so she didn't have to face us kids.
"Hannah... That fall was gonna be her first year in school. She was so excited. Even had her first-day outfit all picked out and planned. Never got to fuckin' wear it," He said brokenly, the first time his voice turned emotional. "He shot her in the back of the head while she was sittin' at the table eatin' her cereal. Never knew what hit her. The docs said she died instantly."
"How'd you survive?" Jack asked quietly, wiping the drying tears off his face with the hand he wasn't laying on.
Bobby laughed bitterly. "The docs still ain't sure of that one, kid. I shouldda died with my family that day. Almost did, but somehow I managed to pull through."
End Note: Now the title should make more sense, yes?