Chapter Twenty-Seven

John ignored the family that tried to comfort him when he walked into the house, starting straight for the upstairs bathroom. "I'm taking a shower." He grunted, leaving them all in his wake as he pulled his shirt over his head, in a hurry to scrub his body clean of Jessica's touch as soon as possible. He slammed the door, making sure to lock it before taking his pants and boxers off. He turned on the water for the shower, making sure it was hot enough to burn any trace of her from his skin. He turned his face to the water, letting it cause him the pain he needed to forget about what had happened for a moment. He slammed his hands against the tile around the tub, wincing as the force pulled at his bandaged hands.

He let his legs give out from under him, collapsing onto the plastic floor of the tub, a scream of frustration ripping his throat raw. He couldn't control it anymore. He couldn't control the rage inside of him. He'd been fine through all the court cases, the withdrawals of all he'd been put through, the letters that his mother had written to him over the past few months. He'd taken all of it in stride, pushing his own anger and discomfort down, until he couldn't take it anymore. He'd been the strong one for the clan for as long as he could remember. He'd always put himself in death's path to take care of his friends and those he cared about, and he'd never cared what happened to him because… well, it didn't affect anyone else, right?

He screamed again, knowing that he wasn't doing anything but harming his vocal chords. "FUCK!" He cried, ignoring the knocks on the bathroom door. "Fuck." He hissed, his tears mixing with the water of his shower on his face.

Clarissa opened the door, taking Kaylie for picking the lock before closing it again. "John?" She took a seat on the toilet lid, waiting for him to come to her if he chose to. "You okay?"

John curled farther in on himself, locking his hands over the back of his head. "Go away." He croaked, digging his nails into his neck and watching as the water started to run pink with the small amount of his blood mixing with it.

Clarissa pulled a towel out of the cabinet, folding it over her lap as she waited for him to calm the storm in his head. "John." She tried again, listening as his cries seemed to fade. "We love you." She stated, knowing that nothing she said could make him magically become a healed perfect child. "And we always will, no matter what happens."

John wiped his hair back, feeling how it was almost as long as Andy's. "Mom." He breathed, taking some bodywash and scrubbing it over his body until it felt like his skin would go raw. "I'm scared." He stated, hating to admit it. "I've never been this far from home, I've never had something this good to lose…" He reached for his towel, grabbing the one that Clarissa tossed at his hand. "You guys are the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I fuck this up-"

Clarissa waited for him to pull the curtain back, before standing to offer him a hug. "You are not going to mess up." She stated, picking up a small hand towel from the rack and rubbing it over his soaked hair. "The only thing you're doing right now, is scaring everyone." She adjusted his necklace, pushing the key into his chest. "Claire gave you this to prove her love for you. She wouldn't do that if she thought you were going to mess everything up."

John leaned his head against her shoulder, exhausted both mentally and physically. He needed a mother's touch in that moment, needed to know that everything would be okay. "I want to sleep." He mumbled, feeling the small woman rub her hands over his back. "I'm so tired."

She nodded, wishing that she could let him sleep. "I know baby, but you can't sleep tonight." She opened the bathroom door, guiding him to his room and pulling out some pajama pants and underwear for him. "That hit to the head made sure of that."

John rolled into the pillows on his bed, catching the scent of Claire in them. "But why?" He moaned, feeling Clarissa adjust the towel over his hips.

"Because you could slip into a coma." She sighed, taking a seat beside him on the bed. "And if that happens, you won't get to graduate until you wake up."

John groaned, forcing himself to sit up and pull his pants and underwear on. "Why does bad luck follow me?" He asked, looking up as his door cracked open to reveal a sleepy Amelia in with Claire right beside her. "Hey Squirt." He smiled, picking the child up and placing her in his lap. "What're you doing up?" He asked, noticing that Claire had his dirty clothes in her hand.

Amelia rested her head against his chest, giving a tired shrug as she was too tired to form words.

Claire looked to her mother, holding up John's clothes. "What should I do with these?" She asked, stepping toward her boyfriend and rubbing a hand over his shoulders.

Clarissa sighed, looking at the bloody shirt and pants. "Put them in a Walmart bag, we'll take them to the lab in the morning." She turned to John, noticing that his eyes were closed as he rested his chin against Amelia's head. "John, wake up baby." She nudged his shoulder, chuckling at his reaction.

"No." He stated, collapsing back into the pillows with Amelia still held in his arms. "And just so you know, I mean that in the Spanish language and not English."

Claire shook her head, running her fingers through his hair. "It's the same word dummy." She smiled, poking his cheek with her nails to get him to stay awake. "Wake up."

He shook his head, pulling a corner of Amelia's blanket onto his side in defiance. "Let me sleep."

Clarissa rolled her eyes, looking up as Thomas walked into the room, a large book in his hand with the paperwork piled on top of it. "John, come on son, we need to get this done." He pulled John up, being careful not to disturb Amelia as he did so.

John leaned against Clarissa's shoulder, feeling Claire at his back as Thomas pulled up a chair to sit in. "What do you need?" He asked, praying that they didn't need anything that he didn't know.

Thomas looked down at the paper, reading the first question. "Do you remember what your grandmother's address was when you were born?" He asked, glancing up at the child.

John shook his head. "You'd have to ask my mom about that." He looked around at his family, knowing that she might not remember either. "But she might have fried her brain too much to remember."

Clarissa nodded, taking a blank piece of paper from her husband and a pencil. "We'll have to take the chance." She started scribbling down the question that they needed answered, adding to it as they continued through the list of questions that John didn't have an answer to. "I hope she can remember all of this."