Chapter One-Hundred and Forty-Two
John lifted his gaze to Asher's home, looking back over his shoulder as Vernon and Paul unloaded his bags from the car. "Take me home." He pleaded, turning back to the men. "I don't wanna be here."
Vernon sighed, reaching toward John until the boy shrank away. "This is only temporary John. But Thomas needs some time to cool off."
Asher patted Chance's head, taking John into the house as Paul and Vernon started to take John's few belongings inside. "John, I promise. This will all work out."
"Leave me alone." He growled, his temper taking hold as he shoved away from his uncle. He rushed up the stairs, finding an unlocked window on the second story that lead to the roof. He stepped on the shingles with careful feet, rushing to the highest part of the house to be sure he was completely alone before he broke. "FUCK!" He screamed, collapsing to his knees.
Three weeks passed, and Thomas still hadn't lifted the ban on John. Asher knew that his nephew was slowly getting worse as time passed. Despite his best efforts, John hadn't eaten for days. He'd completely isolated himself in his room, only coming out to go to the bathroom or feed Chance. He'd stopped showering a few days ago, and he'd been refusing to go to school.
"John?" Asher knocked on the boy's door, pushing it open to see John curled on his side in the bed with Chance pressed against his back. "Dinner's ready."
"Not hungry." He muttered, playing with an old lighter that had run out of juice years ago when Asher had smoked his last pack.
Asher sighed, stepping into the room to attempt to get through to what was really bothering the kid. "Let's talk." He stated, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of him. "Is this about Clarissa?" He asked, leaning toward the boy. "Or is it about the gang?"
John ignored him, striking the lighter again just to see the sparks.
"Johnathan."
"Fuck off."
"John." Asher pushed his temper down, feeling a little bit of his father in him. "Give me that." He took the lighter from him, tossing it across the room. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Fuck off." John repeated, his eyes void of emotion as he looked at his uncle.
Asher heaved a sigh, grabbing John by the shirt collar and hauling him out of the bed. "Look." He pulled John's shirt over his head, pointing the reflection in the mirror. "You're dying, John." He stated, tapping his hand on John's boney ribs. "You're killing yourself."
John shrugged, not caring about how thin he was anymore. In fact, he didn't care about anything. His life was empty without Claire. Without her, there was no point in life.
"I lost you once. I am not going to lose you again." Asher looked his nephew in the eyes, forcing himself to see John and not his mother. "Last time, I spent seven years drinking and drugging. I was homeless, and lost the will to live. I attempted suicide and if it wasn't for Sara, I would be dead right now."
John dropped his gaze, remembering the woman who was dating his uncle and the few times that she'd tried to coax him to eat.
"You need to eat. And if you don't, I'll have Sara put a feeding tube in you." He lifted John's chin forcing him to look at him. "You know what that is? It's a tube that goes in your nose and into your stomach to make you eat."
John weakly pushed his uncle away, knowing that he and Sara would force him to live against his will. "Leave me alone."