The Rosary
Okay. Not my first fanfiction ever, but it is my first Four Brothers fiction. Hope this turns our all right. And I don't really know the time frame for this thing, but I'll fake it as best as I can.
Summary: My brother isn't a saint. He wasn't killed for some higher purpose. No matter how much I clean this thing, I will always see Jack's blood on it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All I own is… actually nevermind, I don't own that either. The creators of this movie own the characters and theitalicized dialogue.
"You killed my mother and little brother, you mutherfucker. Thank Victor Sweet."
I shot that fucker in the head. No remorse. There wasn't any room for that. Not that the bastard deserved remorse from me anyway.
I slowly make my way back to my brothers. The walk was a blur to me. From the rage. Sadness. Fear. Mostly it was denial. My little brother couldn't have just died in front of all of his older brothers. Not this way. Yet there he was. And there I was. Standing over his body with Angel crying with Sofi and Jeremiah leaning on the post. None of us saying a word, but we couldn't.
Jackie. I stare down at my little brother lying in the snow. He was alive twenty minutes ago, and now he is with Ma. This isn't right. Not Jackie. He was the only one out of the four of us that if he died, he didn't deserve it.
My heart breaks at the sight of him. He's so pale. And there is so much blood. Trickling out of the corners of his mouth. Spreading from the bullet in his chest. Trailing from where he was first shot to where he finally died. The snow turning pink beneath him from where he was shot in the legs fighting to come back to us. There was a lot of blood spilled during this war with Sweet. None of it should have been Jackie's.
I did the only thing I could do. I fell to my knees, sat my brother up, and cradled him to my chest. I wouldn't let any tears fall for him. Not yet. His killer was still out there. But not for much longer if me and my brothers had anything to do or say about it.
I hear the sirens in the background, and yet I don't care. I hold onto my brother tighter hoping it will lessen the guilt I feel for getting him killed. It doesn't work. I hear Angel and Jerry yelling at the paramedics as soon as they get out of the ambulance for not getting here as soon as possible. I wasn't their fault even if I was gonna blame them too. We called them too late. But I still need someone to blame.
There is always Victor Sweet. That bastard.
I feel arms trying to pull me off of Jack, but I ignore them. "Bobby, let him go," Jerry says.
I hear the pain in his voice. It takes a lot for him to force those words from his mouth. "I can't," I whisper. I won't.
"Let them do their jobs," Angel replies.
"There is nothing you can do for him," Jerry adds. That was a mistake.
"Don't say that, Jerry!"
"Fuck you, Bobby!" Angel yells. My eyes widen. My little brother just yelled at me. "We are hurting just as much as you are right now."
He was right. I'm being selfish. I'm not the only person that lost a brother just now. I reluctantly release my hold on him. I set him back down in the snow and as I pull my hands ways, my fingers get caught in one of those gay chains he was always wearing. I look at it and pause. It isn't one of his chains.
His rosary.
Something in me told me that I had to take it. I gently lift him up one more time and take the rosary off. I stare at it. One more thing that has his blood on it. The cross. I wrap it around my wrist holding the cross in my hand.
I follow my brothers and we end up on the front steps of our house. The house that was just shot up. The three of us watch as they put our baby brother in a body bag. "Don't you dare put Jackie with those fuckers that killed him," I yell.
The paramedics understand and nod. Green pulls up and he starts yelling at the other people on the scene. He's alone. He doesn't have his little bitch with him, which is a good thing, because there is something about him I don't like. Green walks over to us and he looks pissed. Okay, maybe not pissed. I am pissed and I know my brothers were pissed so I feel the need to project my anger onto someone else.
"It was self-defense, wasn't it?"
So maybe Green is on our side. And Fowler had something to do with Ma's death. That punk bitch had a hand in my brother's murder. He'll get his.
I stand up and step passed my brothers and Sofi. I can't talk to them right now. Inside the house, it makes me sick to look at all of the bullet holes in the walls. Ma's house will never be the way it used to be. Especially with two people that made this house home gone.
I hear my brothers follow me inside the house. I ignore them, but I don't mean to. Something else has my attention. I take my gloves off and I see it again.
I unwrap the rosary from my wrist and walk over to the sink. Jack's dried blood covers it. I feel bad for wanting to wash it off, but my brother isn't a saint. He wasn't killed for some higher purpose. I run the cross under some warm water and scrub off the blood. It doesn't help because no matter how much I clean this thing, I will always see Jack's blood on it.
I put it around my neck and walk upstairs to Ma's room. Ma and Jack's rooms are shot up. I need to sleep. I have to go to another funeral for someone I care about. Some homecoming.
I hope that this turned out okay. I think that it is just gonna be a two chapter story. It's supposed to be a filler for some scenes where I thought some explanation was needed, but I cut some stuff out too. Thanks for reading, and please review.