Hello. Abandon here making a change (again) to one of her stories.
For those of you who have read, and liked, the original version of my 'Four Brothers' Fanfic, I'm sorry, but I was listening to this song late at night, and thought that it fit perfectly with the storyline. I'm going to base the first couple chapters on how I think the Mercer Brothers came to be with Evelyn Mercer.
Will (eventually) be a slash between Jack and one of the other brothers, and/or Green (Bobby) (Maybe an OC since they didn't put many characters in the movie .)
None of the songs i use/characters ('Cept OC's) are mine, no copyright infringement intended.
On a cold and gray Chicago morn
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mamma cries.
A series of bangs and the frantic sound of running footsteps wakes a child at 7685 Wilshire St.
"Mommy?" a tiny voice calls out, "Mommy, where are you?"
The little voice of Bobby Cobalt would never reach the ears of his mother.
The dead hear no one.
'cause if there's one thing that she don't need
it's another hungry mouth to feed
When the cops finally arrive, about a week and a half later, they come cross a sight that would make even a veteran blanche; Five emaciated bodies, four of them children ranging from infancy to adolescence, the other an elderly man.
One child stirs feebly, his head lifting forth from the pile. As the cops look on, he smiles at them, a tired smile, and collapses again, his head thunking when it connects with that of an older boy.
"What the hell happened here?" one of the cops asks the other, his face white and his voice shaking.
The other one shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks, "In the other room, one Miranda Cobalt, shot three times point blank. Records show that she was the only care giver for her four young children and her mentally disabled father. When she didn't show up to work for more than a week, her boss called us."
They both shook themselves, calling in back up and busses before untangling the children and checking the pulse of the old man.
sometimes it seems impossible and that's why we pray
Helena Nash looked down at the file in her hands and sighed; Bobby Cobalt, sent to- and kicked out of- every willing foster home in the Chicago area. How was she supposed to get this kid put in a home with such a background?
At fourteen the boy already had a record longer than her arm, and a past worse than any other she had ever heard. What would she be able to do for this boy? This boy that had already been failed too many times and by too many people to count?
"God, help me give this child a chance." She prayed aloud, voice reverent as she gazed past the water damaged ceiling tiles to the cold Detroit sky above.
Little did she know, her prayer would be answered the next day, when, at a faculty meeting, someone brought up the name Mercer, Evelyn Mercer.
That's the end of Chapter one.