Sorry that this took so long to get out...
(But lets be honest, if you've followed any of my other stories you know that this is actually a pretty small break)
I had major writer's block over this chapter.
(That and I've been watching Tangled the Series and would die for either Euguene or Varian)
I'm still not a fan of how this chapter turned out, but sometimes you've gotta run before you walk, y'know?
Anyway... Hope you enjoy this chapter!
~TH~
Race sat in homeroom, rapidly tapping his pencil. Jack said he was going to be back today. He had honestly been scared when Jack wasn't answering anyone. All the possibilities kept running through his head. He knew Jack was in a bad home. He didn't have any proof of it, but he knew it. His gut instinct had told him that on the day they met. He hadn't been able to get Jack to really open up, but on Friday... On Friday Jack had been like a completely different person.
Spot had told him that Jack and him had had a good conversation. He wouldn't say anymore, and Race respected Jack's privacy enough to not push.
But then Monday had happened. Jack wasn't at school. He didn't go to drama, he wasn't at lunch, he wasn't even in the library. Spot had no clue where he was and even the two kids with the project had seemed worried that no one could get a hold of him.
Race didn't care what Jack said, he knew he wasn't just sick. Spot knew too and was angry. There was a serious possibility of Spot calling the cops if Jack hadn't answered when he did.
His phone vibrated.
Jack
I'm here
He responded without opening.
How are you feeling?
Jack: Better
Good
The bell rang and the teacher turned to the front of the class. Race put his phone away.
~N~
Race saw Jack slip into the theatre. He looked even more closed off than he had been before. He was wearing the hoodie that he always wore, the hood was up.
He followed Jack to the back room. The older boy kept his back turned to him.
"Hey, Race." He said in a quiet voice.
"Uh, hey, feeling better?"
"Yeah, wasn't anything too bad, just a headache and stuff."
"Yeah." Jack's movements were tense as he reached for a paint brush. He seemed to almost flinch. He began to pain the back drop, never raising the brush above his shoulders.
Race's eyes caught the small red stream coming from the back of his neck. "Jack, your neck is bleeding."
Jack froze, his hand going back and coming away red. He cursed, turning around and setting the paint brush in a cup of water and holding a probably very unsanitary rag to his neck.
"Walk into another door?" Jack's eye had darkened and there looked to be some kind of bruise across his nose.
"Forget it, okay? It's not worth it."
"Jack," He tried to keep the anger he was feeling out of his voice. He wanted to sound comforting, maybe get him to talk. "If someone's hurting you, that's not okay."
Jack turned his back away, throwing the rag down and picking up the paintbrush. "I'm fine, just drop it, please." His voice was quiet, almost broken. Not at all the defensive response Race was used to.
"Then what's wrong with your neck."
"Nothing, I cut it. It was an accident."
The frustration he was trying to suppress finally broke through, "Do you really think I don't know a belt mark when I see it? That's why you missed school, right? Were you sleeping or unconscious? Huh? This is serious Jack!"
"It's nothing! I said it's nothing, okay?! Just leave it!" His voice was strained.
Race practically slammed the door shut, locking it.
Jack turned with wide eyes, "What- what are you doing?!"
Before he could let the fear of what he was doing take over him, he pulled off his shirt and turned around. "I get it Jack! Okay, I get it! You're scared and you don't want anyone to get hurt!" He felt more than saw Jack take a few steps towards him. He didn't stop him when Jack genty ran a finger over one of the scars. He softened his voice, "I want to help. I won't, I won't tell anybody you don't want to know," yet "but you gotta let me help."
He finally turned around. Jack was looking at him with a mixed expression on his face.
Then, very slowly, he pulled his arms into his sweatshirt and gingerly slipped it off. He didn't turn around. He just stood there, blankly staring at the wall.
Race slowly walked around to see his back. Jack flinched when he walked by but didn't say or do anything else. Race couldn't stop the gasp. There were a lot of them. A lot of lashes. There was one that looked like it might be starting to get infected.
"Have you cleaned them?"
"Tried to. Don' know how clean they got though." His voice was void of all emotion.
Race made a decision, "You're coming home with me and I'm cleaning them."
"No, it's fine. We can't just, just leave!"
"I'll talk to Medda-"
"No!"
"I won't tell her anything. Okay? She knows that you haven't been feeling well. I'll just tell her that I'm taking you to our house because it's quicker."
"Race..."
"Jack, please. If they get infected you won't be able to put on this act anyway. I've cleaned stuff like this before. Trust me. Please?"
The older boy didn't say anything, but he did sigh. Race took it as a yes. He pulled his shirt back on and went to find Medda.
~N~
When Race returned, he was relieved to find Jack still there. His shirt was back on and he was looking slightly paler.
"Come on," Jack had his backpack in the crook of his arm. "Do you want me to carry that?"
"No."
Race nodded.
Medda had given the okay to go home. She had warned him not to let things get too out of hand before he came for help. She knew, but she would never ask him to betray a friend. She would do her own investigation, but none of the information would come from Race or Spot.
They made it to the house, but Jack looked dead on his feet. Race wondered how he had made it to school.
"Do you wanna get a shower or something? You don't want it to spray right on your back, but it might make you feel some better."
"Okay."
Race showed him to the bathroom. "Wait a second," He found some of his clothes that he thought might fit Jack. They might be a little tight, or not. Jack was worryingly thin.
"If you wanna just leave your clothes outside the door I can wash them." He offered. Jack nodded before shutting the door.
Race sighed going into the kitchen. He started boiling water. He could make something. Ramen or macaroni, something.
Setting it to boil, he sat down and pulled out his phone.
Spot
Took Jack to Meddas
He okay?
Belt
Is he okay?
Idk
It looked bad
Seemed in a lot of pain
Gonna have to clean them
Make him eat
Cooking rn
Jack in the shower
stop by if you get a chance
Will
He put his phone away and added noodles to the pot.
~N~
Jack came out fifteen minutes later. Race had collected his clothes from outside the bathroom and started them in the washing machine. Hopefully they'd be ready by the time Jack left so his foster dad wouldn't notice. Assuming his foster dad paid attention to him when he wasn't going crazy with a belt. Race still didn't know too much about the man.
Race had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was glad to finally know something was going on. He'd suspected since he first met Jack, but now he knew for sure. On the other hand... now he knew for sure.
Should he tell someone? Medda? Should he tell the school office? The Police? He still had a social worker. He could call her and tell her what was going on. But he just... couldn't. Not without the whole story. It just felt wrong. But not telling felt wrong too. He didn't know what to do.
Jack stood awkwardly in the living room. He was wearing Race's jacket, but he had left it unzipped. He wouldn't make eye contact as his eyes darted around the room.
"Sorry if that was too long." He mumbled.
"Nope. Pretty quick to be honest. Medda always gets on to me for taking ridiculously long showers. Come into the kitchen, I made mac and cheese."
Jack followed, "I'm, I'm not really hungry."
"You need to eat anyway." Race countered placing a bowl on the table.
"You know you really don't have to worry about me, I'm fine."
Race blew air out his nose, trying no to laugh. "I somehow doubt that." He sat across from him. Jack messed with the fork for a few seconds before he actually started eating.
Race tried not to stare at him. He felt guilty as a thought started working its way into his mind. He bit his lip, glancing at Jack. "It's not, it's not because you came over, right?"
Jack stopped eating, looking up confused. "Hm?"
"He didn't, your foster dad, he didn't do that to you because you were out too late or at Spot's or anything like that, right?" He hoped not. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if that had been the cause.
Jack shook his head, "Nah, I don't even think he knew I was gone. It was... it was something totally different. It was my fault, had nothing to do with you." His eyes found his bowl and Race noticed how he somehow drew even more into himself.
"I'm sure it wasn't your fault." One of the most dangerous positions for Jack to be in was if he actually blamed himself. Nothing was bad enough to deserve the beating Race had seen the evidence of, but regardless, Jack couldn't blame himself.
"It doesn't matter, Race. I said something I shouldn't have when he was already mad. He didn't like it. My fault. End of story."
"Jack-"
"Look, can we talk about something else? Please?"
Race studies him for a minute. "Yeah, okay."
There was a long stretch of silence. Race decided to just go for it. "What's his name?"
"Whose?"
"Your foster dad, what his name."
"Snyder. William Snyder." It was said with just barely a hint of malice.
"Mother?"
"Nope."
"Anyone else in the house?"
"Nope. Just me and the Spider. Glad though. Got a kid brother, Crutchie, er Charlie, at a group home. Rather him be there than, y'know."
"Yeah." It made sense. Jack had been in a group home before now. His brother was still there. Might explain why certain things comforted him. Like Jacky. That had calmed him down real fast. Sounded like a nickname given by a younger brother.
Jack dropped the fork in the bowl.
"Let's just get this over with."
Race was looking forward to this about as much as Jack was.
~N~
Jack had passed out on the couch. Whether it was pain, or exhaustion, or both, it didn't really matter. Race glanced at the clock. School would be letting out soon. He should probably wake him up so that he could get home.
He really didn't want to though. He was almost afraid of the response he would get.
Jack had taken the cleaning well. Race knew that it hurt, but Jack hadn't responded as bad as he could have. Race realized with a frown that it was probably because he was just used to being in pain.
He really needed to stop thinking about it. It was just making him angry.
The front door opened and Spot walked in. The older boy looked at the boy sleeping on the couch, his back exposed. His features hardened. "Whoever it was got him good."
"Snyder. His foster dad. Jack claims it's his fault for talking when Snyder was angry. Wouldn't listen to anything else about it."
Spot practically growled. "We gotta do something."
"Like what?"
"Tell somebody."
"We can't just do that. He obviously doesn't want anyone to know. I only found out because he was bleeding and I called him out on it. Made me promise not to tell anyone."
"This is serious, Race. We can tell Medda, she got you out."
"No!" Jack said, pushing himself up with a grimace. Race wondered when he had woken up, how much he had heard. "You can't," he looked at Race, "you promised you wouldn't."
"Yeah, well, I didn't promise nothin'." Spot crossed his arms.
Jack glared at him. "You can't tell."
"Why not."
"Because, it would just make things worse."
"Or it would get you out."
"I'm fine! Okay! It's not like this happens all the time. I said something stupid. I'll just keep my mouth shut and I'll be fine!"
Spot rolled his eyes, "You've been covered in bruises since the day I met you. Don't act like this is a one time thing."
"You can't prove anything."
"You're back makes for pretty good evidence."
Jack looked like he was about ready to pounce. Race stood up, "Jack, it's okay. We won't tell anyone."
Spot turned his attention to his brother.
"For now, okay?" He tried to beg Spot with his eyes "If things keep getting worse, we have to." Race turned his attention on Jack, watching his face. "But you have to tell us. No more hiding dangerous injuries okay."
"And by dangerous, he means any." Spot added.
"Fine. Just don't tell."
"Fine." Spot spit in his hand and Jack followed suit before shaking hands. It was something Race had seen some of the upperclassmen do, though he never really knew why.
"Uh, Medda will probably be home soon. I'll get your clothes from the dryer."
Jack nodded. Spot just watched them both his arms crossed. He knew his brother was going to be keeping an even closer watch over their new friend.
~TH~
Hope you liked it!
Not really my best work, but it got the point across, right?
Will try to start updating normally again.
Let me know if you have any thoughts!
Stay safe and Gosh bless,
Jamie
