A/N: Okies, so I was really bored, and I kinda just felt like writing something. I needed to get my feelings out about how my parents are too restrictive, and so I put myself in Jack's place, and came up with this little ficlet about restrictive parents, and running away from home. It's not meant to be good, I just needed to write, as I have said before. Enjoy, and please review!
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They were yelling at him again. For nothing, it seemed. It was always like this. His parents were not fair to him at all. He wanted to be free, not to be here, trapped like a caged bird.
He could not believe this. A kid off the streets had decided that 14-year-old Jack Sparrow would be the perfect victim of his fury at god knows who. But to his surprise, Jack was much stronger than he looked. It wasn't Jack's fault at all; it was the kid's fault that he'd ended up with a bloody nose, and something broken, although Jack knew better than to stick around to find out what.
Tears of anger and frustration ran down his tanned cheeks as he threw everything in sight on the floor, including himself. He pounded the ground, finally letting out all of the rage he had held in for so long, not wanting to cause any more problems.
This was it. He couldn't pretend any longer. Tonight was the night. He opened the door of his closet and pulled a dagger out, running it down his arm, causing himself to bleed. The pain was excrutiating, but Jack knew it was for a good reason.
Blood mixed with the tears as scratched his initials into his arm, suddenly realizing that the pain he felt now was nothing compared to the long cold nights he had spend crying and wishing he could die. He gritted his teeth as he finished drawing the "S", and dropped the dagger onto the floor, his head drooping in sorrow.
He looked to the bleeding cuts covering his wrist and brought his arm to his mouth, licking the bloodstained skin, tasting his pain. The shudders kept coming, a constant stream of shaking, and Jack knew that if he didn't leave soon, then life would never be as it was such a long time ago, when he was just a young, innocent child, not this mess, lying on the floor bleeding.
Still crying, he grabbed an old bag and stuffed a change of clothing into it. He snuck from his room to the pantry, hoping he wouldn't be discovered, and trying to be as silent as possible, quieting the panting and sobbing. He reached onto a shelf and grabbed some supplies: a bit of fruit, some bread, and (as he took a breif stop at the cold storage room) a bottle of milk. It was all he could afford to take, as time was passing, and he needed to get out, before his parents found his plan.
Jack reached the back door of the tiny house, and touched the handle with his shaking hand, twisting it gently, and stepping out into the open world, the great outdoors: his new home.
He began to walk away, pulling a piece of material out of his bag, and tying it around his aching wrist. Once he was done, Jack Sparrow turned back to look at his house. A horrible place, where his horrible parents lived, pretending they loved him.
"Goodbye," he whispered, and turned away, running full speed into the woods.
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A/N: There you go. All done. What does everyone think of it? Jack would also like to know, since it is his story, and he just told it to me so that I could write...
Jack: *whimpersnifflepuppyeyes* Please?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were yelling at him again. For nothing, it seemed. It was always like this. His parents were not fair to him at all. He wanted to be free, not to be here, trapped like a caged bird.
He could not believe this. A kid off the streets had decided that 14-year-old Jack Sparrow would be the perfect victim of his fury at god knows who. But to his surprise, Jack was much stronger than he looked. It wasn't Jack's fault at all; it was the kid's fault that he'd ended up with a bloody nose, and something broken, although Jack knew better than to stick around to find out what.
Tears of anger and frustration ran down his tanned cheeks as he threw everything in sight on the floor, including himself. He pounded the ground, finally letting out all of the rage he had held in for so long, not wanting to cause any more problems.
This was it. He couldn't pretend any longer. Tonight was the night. He opened the door of his closet and pulled a dagger out, running it down his arm, causing himself to bleed. The pain was excrutiating, but Jack knew it was for a good reason.
Blood mixed with the tears as scratched his initials into his arm, suddenly realizing that the pain he felt now was nothing compared to the long cold nights he had spend crying and wishing he could die. He gritted his teeth as he finished drawing the "S", and dropped the dagger onto the floor, his head drooping in sorrow.
He looked to the bleeding cuts covering his wrist and brought his arm to his mouth, licking the bloodstained skin, tasting his pain. The shudders kept coming, a constant stream of shaking, and Jack knew that if he didn't leave soon, then life would never be as it was such a long time ago, when he was just a young, innocent child, not this mess, lying on the floor bleeding.
Still crying, he grabbed an old bag and stuffed a change of clothing into it. He snuck from his room to the pantry, hoping he wouldn't be discovered, and trying to be as silent as possible, quieting the panting and sobbing. He reached onto a shelf and grabbed some supplies: a bit of fruit, some bread, and (as he took a breif stop at the cold storage room) a bottle of milk. It was all he could afford to take, as time was passing, and he needed to get out, before his parents found his plan.
Jack reached the back door of the tiny house, and touched the handle with his shaking hand, twisting it gently, and stepping out into the open world, the great outdoors: his new home.
He began to walk away, pulling a piece of material out of his bag, and tying it around his aching wrist. Once he was done, Jack Sparrow turned back to look at his house. A horrible place, where his horrible parents lived, pretending they loved him.
"Goodbye," he whispered, and turned away, running full speed into the woods.
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A/N: There you go. All done. What does everyone think of it? Jack would also like to know, since it is his story, and he just told it to me so that I could write...
Jack: *whimpersnifflepuppyeyes* Please?