Chapter Two-Hundred and Thirty-Five

After hours of beating his fists and legs into his heavy bag, John's hands were so swollen and cracked that he had no choice but to go into the house. He slumped into a stool at the counter, tearing a paper towel off of the roll and dabbing it over his bleeding knuckles. "Fuck…" He hissed, looking at the red that stained the paper. He squinted as the light was flipped on, looking up to see that Claire was standing in the doorway. "What?" He asked, the sweat that was covering his body shimmering in the light.

Claire opened the freezer, pulling out a handful of ice cubes and placing them in a bowl. "Give me your hands." She ordered, taking his bruised, swollen fingers in her hand and rubbing the ice over the wounds.

John hissed, flinching slightly as the cold got into the splits in his skin. "Fucking hell…"

Claire sighed, wiping his hands clean of blood and water. "Mom was thinking, that maybe you and Phoebe… should go to Dominic and Jade's for a while. Just until Jacob is caught."

He shook his head, gripping her hands as tightly as his damaged fingers would allow. "I can't let him get to you." He leaned forward, tenderly kissing her lips. "I can't risk it."

She licked her lips, able to taste the salt of his sweat on her skin. "I don't want you to get hurt again…" She whispered, brushing his hair out of his face until she could clearly see the exhaustion in his eyes. "Come on, let's go to bed."

He nodded, slowly standing until his head started to spin. He fell into Claire, waiting for his vision to return before he continued.

"What's wrong?" She asked, watching as he blinked to clear his vision.

He pushed himself up, looking at the lemons that Dana kept on had to build up Andy's electrolytes after practice. "I think I pushed it too far…"

She filled a glass of water, squeezing some lemon juice into it like she'd seen Dana do before she handed it to him. "Here. See if this helps." She watched as he downed the whole glass, in a matter of seconds. "let's get you to bed."

Phoebe listened to John's powerful voice as he sang into his microphone in his room, listening as he strummed on his acoustic guitar.

"Before Eighteen

There was once a boy
who carried his hopes
and dreams in a suitcase
and his wounds over his body.

Trapped in nightmares at home,
he seeks solace on the streets.
Living shadows reach out to
embrace the kindred spirit.

A hard life lived since emerging
from the womb. Trying to fit a
lifetime into one day because,
Who knows if you'll die before eighteen

There was was once a girl
who carried her parents'
cruel words in her heart and
their hits across her skin.

Each day was Hell on Earth, although
she learned not to cry. One night she
ran into the street. Living shadows reached
out to embrace her. Allowing her to cry.

The boy and girl became family.
They now have hope. They now
have a future. They no longer fear
dying before eighteen."

She pushed his door open slightly, biting her lip as she saw the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. She sank to the floor, leaning on the doorframe as John's voice faded and he let quiet sobs escape his throat.

"Phoebe, what are you doing?" Kaylie asked, kneeling down beside her and peeking into John's bedroom.

Phoebe looked up at the blonde, noticing that she didn't have her glasses on. "He's sad." She whispered, watching as John tucked his knees up against his chest and let his guitar fall to the floor as he bowed his head to his legs.

Kaylie shook her head, remembering the wounds she'd seen on his body, and trying to not think of the ones she hadn't. "He's not sad, Firefly, he's scared… Jacob and Beverly… did a lot of horrible stuff to him. He's afraid that they'll do it to you if they find you." She hugged the child close to her chest, rocking her back and forth as John began to cough and choke on his tears.