I've got to say thanks to all those of you who've taken the time to express your opinion about my story! This beginning is extremely confusing, don't worry, there's no supernatural happening's, it's just how messed up Jack is, and it will be explained. In time. The chapter song is by the Doves. Enjoy,

Pounding

The noise was overwhelming. It was an incessant thumping that pounded mercilessly in Jack's ears, causing him to scrunch his face up and cover them to try and block out the sound. Mr. Parades didn't blink as he stared at the boy, an evil grin spreading across the older man's face. Jack vaguely wondered why the thumping wasn't affecting his foster father, before realizing the reason he wasn't reacting was because he couldn't hear it. The thumping was Jack's heartbeat... or his head about to explode he wasn't quite sure.

Suddenly the thumping was replaced by a shrill ringing sound, and Jack found himself lying outside in the backyard, curled up in a ball. He knew he was injured but for some reason, he wasn't in any pain at all. He stood up slowly, testing his strength, and walked carefully over to the fence, entering the front yard. It all seemed so surreal, the sky was white, and everything else seemed to be giving off a grey tint. Jack felt as if he were in a black and white video.

The noise of a car rolling up behind him caused Jack to whip around, stepping back out of the way just in time as the car sped by. His feet began pounding against the pavement; he had to stop the car before it was too late. Just as he was close enough to almost reach out and touch the bumper, Jack's foot snagged on a crack in the jagged road and he fell on his face. That was when he felt the pain of his previous injuries.

The familiar feeling of nausea rising in his stomach surfaced, and Jack rolled onto his knees just as a stream of vomit rushed out of his mouth and nose, causing him to choke and gasp for air.

When he felt a gentle hand on his back, Jack's eyes slammed open.

At first he couldn't make out anything, and he figured he was just in his bed, and the hand belonged to his foster mother, Mrs. Parades. She usually tried to do the right thing, and even though she normally didn't succeed, without her Jack had no idea what would happen to him. When his vision cleared and his breathing slowed down ever so slightly, Jack realized he was on the floor, and not his bed. A pile of his vomit was lying in front of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his throat close up and gag. He had to wait until the room stopped spinning before he could figure out why he was on the floor.

Eyes still squeezed shut, Jack shifted into a sitting position and let his head fall into his lap, to wait until he could see clearly again.

Mr. Parades would be mad that he'd puked on the floor. Jack's grip on his tattered jeans tightened, as he thought of what his foster father might do, and unintentionally, the boy let out a small whimper. All of a sudden, someone else was speaking.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

All thoughts of dizziness forgotten, Jack's head shot up, and spun around frantically in search of the voice. As he did so, he crawled hurriedly towards the corner, slipping in the vomit, falling, and finally backing himself against the wall. Fuck. This wasn't his room, this wasn't his house, that wasn't Mrs. Parade's voice, and the old lady advancing towards him certainly wasn't Mrs. Parades.

Maybe if Jack was thinking straight he would've seen the look of concern on the old woman's face, but at the moment all the kid could think about was trying to get himself to breathe. Jack knew he was out of control, in his panic he was shaking like mad, sweating bullets and gripping his fists together so tight he wouldn't be surprised if he drew blood. He vaguely heard a voice, then someone scream, but he couldn't think about that right now. He needed his puffer. Suddenly he was on his hands and knees as his breathing began to speed up. All he wanted was one breath of air, he didn't know where he was, what was happening, or why he couldn't breathe, he just knew that if he didn't get air soon he was going to explode.

Jack clutched at his chest and prepared himself to take a deep breath. At first it hardly made a difference, and his quick, pathetic gasps for air just came out raspier, but after a few tries, they began to slow down, until each gasp was about two seconds long, and incredibly hoarse and raspy. Finally, Jack could feel some air entering his lungs, but he still couldn't breathe normally. There was no time in between each gasp to let any air out, and as a result, Jack's eyes rolled back in his head until he passed out, when his oxygen starved body couldn't take it anymore.

Ever since he could remember, Jack had always used his ears instead of his eyes to figure things out. He liked the dark much more then the light, because he was harder to find in the dark. It was because of this that Jack had learned to pick up on any small noises, for instance, he could tell whether whoever was walking up the stairs was angry or not by the sound of their footsteps, or which car was pulling into the driveway, etc.

Right now, Jack could here many different sounds, like, a steady beeping, clashing footsteps and voices (some more urgent then others), an irregular tapping, (it probably came from a sneaker), the ticking of a clock, many ringing phones, and a soft buzzing sound. It didn't take Jack to long to assess these sounds and figure out where he was.

"Ma, can we go? We don't even know this kid; he's in good hands now." Came an impatient voice. Even with his eyes closed, (and he planned on keeping it that way) Jack could tell that this person was black, and probably around 16 years of age.

"You know I'm not going to leave him Jerry, why don't you call Bobby and have him come pick you up." An older woman replied. The name Bobby seemed really familiar to Jack, but he just couldn't place it. He didn't even know why he was in a hospital, or who these people were, and he didn't want to risk letting them know he was awake by opening his eyes.

"Bobby's not back yet." The teen said.

"Well have you tried calling since we got here?" The woman replied.

"No…"

"Then how do you know he's not back yet?" She asked, "Besides, we should let Angel know we're okay. Go on Jerry, there's a payphone in the lobby I think." Jack heard a chair scrape backwards, followed by footsteps fading away, and a door opening then swinging shut. A few minutes passed and the door opened again.

"Ma there's a cop here that wants to speak with yah. He says he can see you in that room." The teenager spoke to the old woman. It was all Jack could do to keep his eyes shut, because the second whoever it was spoke, he remembered everything. The kid was saying something else about waiting for Bobby out front, but Jack was hardly listening. He was concentrating on keeping calm, and hoping nobody would notice his white knuckled grip on the sheets.

Once he was sure the room was empty, Jack opened his eyes and took three deep breaths. Now he remembered where he'd heard the name Bobby, it was the person that'd found him after he ran away. The old lady must be his mom, and he had no idea who the other kid was. Damn, he should've found a better place to sleep! The lady had come after all, and had probably found him and brought him home. Although everything up until he'd fallen asleep now made sense, Jack still had no idea why he was in the hospital. Fuck. There was a cop. He had to get out of here.

Jack groaned and clutched his messy hair tightly, he felt like his head wasn't attached to the rest of his body, and someone was spinning it out of control just to torture him. All he had to do was sneak out of his room and leave. Nobody was going to stop him anyway, nobody cared, he just had to make sure the cop didn't spot him.

As if in a daze, Jack threw the covers off and began searching for his clothes, relieved there was no IV he had to rip out of his arm. He would need them (the clothes), when this was all over, because people wearing nothing but a hospital gown tended to stick out. After searching for a few minutes, Jack began to get anxious, it had been at least 10 minutes since the old woman and the cop had left, and Jack was pretty sure they didn't have much to talk about. The officer would be back soon. Jack paused and gazed at the door, he was tempted to just forget the clothes and bolt, but he knew it had to be at least minus twenty outside, he wouldn't last long.

Jack could almost feel his heart rate speed up, as he ripped open the small closet and began opening the drawers, his hands slippery with sweat. Finally, Jack breathed a deep sigh and closed his eyes in relief, he'd found his clothes bundled in the bottom drawer. Without hesitation, he pulled on his pants and shoes frantically, stuffed his socks in a pocket (he would worry about them later), yanked the hospital gown off and threw on his baggy black t-shirt. Just as he was about to pull the hoodie on over top, Jack froze. He could hear someone opening the door.

Luckily, the closet door was blocking the view of him from the door, and he was able to slip behind it without making a noise.

"Thank you for your patience Mrs. Mercer." Came a deep, male voice. "If you could have someone give me a call when he wakes up that'd be great."

Jack was confused, had they not noticed the bed was empty? Cautiously, he peered around the corner of the closet, and realized it was because Mrs. Mercer, the old woman, had her back to the door facing outwards, and the police officer was probably just around the corner, because he couldn't see him.

"Good day officer." Mrs. Mercer spoke. Jack pulled his head back just in time as the woman turned around, and held his breath, pressing himself against the back of the half open closet. He was screwed. He could hear Mrs. Mercer take about three steps forward, and then came a silence filled with the noise of the hospital, followed immediately by brisk, retreating footsteps.

It was now or never, Jack thought as he gathered up his courage and made a run for it. He practically sprinted to the door, sliding to a stop to check frantically where the exit was, and where Mrs. Mercer had gone. As he peered around the corner of the door he took in all the information he could. The old woman was walking down the tight hallway to the right, there was a nurse almost directly in front of him facing the wall and organizing a chart, and there was a sign that said "Stairs", to his left.

Before he could re think his plan, Jack sucked in a deep breath and stole out of the room, running silently towards the door to his left. Just as he swung the door open he heard the nurse behind him yell, but at this point he didn't care, he was already halfway down the flight of stairs. After descending 3 floors, Jack reached the bottom, and skidded to a stop. There was one door to his left, and one to his right. Jack picked the door that had a sign that read "Lobby", figuring it would lead him outside faster.

Jack felt like he was in a cheesy suspense movie, and that any second he would hear some intense chase music. That didn't happen though, because as Jack walked shakily through the crowded lobby with his heart in his throat, all he could hear was his heart hammering against his chest. He kept his head down and avoided bumping into anybody, which is why he didn't notice the cop that was having a conversation with the lady behind the counter at first.

When Jack was about halfway across the lobby, he stopped and slowly turned his head towards the main desk.

He saw the officer turning to face to the side as if it was in slow motion, but he couldn't move. He just stood there frozen, unable to move as the two made eye contact. It only lasted a couple seconds though, because when the second the cop broke eye contact to say something to the woman behind the desk, Jack turned and bolted for the swinging doors as fast as he could. He swore under his breath when he heard the officer shout at him, and increased his speed.

Without slowing down, Jack pushed through the doors and checked to see if the cop was behind him just before he ran full tilt into someone standing in the entrance way. As Jack stumbled backwards into the wall, he looked into the kid's eyes, and whispered the word, please, before pushing past him and diving behind the closest parked car there was.

He couched down as low as possible, and positioned himself behind the wheels. He'd learned that it was much easier to find someone when they were hiding in between the wheels. Jack's hands were shaking violently, whether out of fear or need for a smoke, he didn't know, he just knew that he was done.

Once again, he had to rely completely on his hearing, because there was no way he was going to risk glancing past the car to the doors. He grimaced when he heard the inevitable sound of the doors swinging open, and then the gruff voice of the cop, speaking with the kid Jack had bumped into.

"Did you see a little boy run out here?"

"Oh yeah," The kid replied cheerfully, "Skinny little white boy, bout yaigh high?" Jack hugged his knees as his last hope blew up in flames.

"Well where'd he go?" The cop asked impatiently.

"Calm down, calm down, he ran off that way." Jack shut his eyes and braced himself. It was all over. Did they even send thirteen year olds to jail? What would happen to him? The thing Jack was terrified of the most, was the thought of having to face...

"Hey kid..." Jack's thoughts were interrupted. "So would you like to tell me why you were runnin from that cop?"

Jack just stared in awe, there was no cop, no handcuffs, nothing.

"Aw man, Ma's gonna freak! Shit kid, you gotta be no more then what, 12 right?"

"Thirteen!" Jack corrected indignantly, glaring as the other kid smirked. And then, realization hit him, now he knew where he'd heard this voice before.

"Why were you in my hospital room?" Jack demanded.

"You know when the cop realizes you ain't where I said you went, he's gonna come back here and I bet he'd gonna be pissed." The guy replied and just like that, Jack's momentarily forgotten fears were back, full force. He stood abruptly and began to back away, staring wide eyed at the older kid, what was his name? It was definitely something with a J.

Jack blinked and turned on his heal, taking off in the opposite direction before the guy had a chance to react. He was sprinting threw the parking lot, trying to stay low in case the police could see him, and at the same time trying to distance himself from the other kid.

As Jack was about to run across a lane of the lot, he caught a glance of a car in his peripheral vision. In an attempt to avoid getting hit, Jack slammed on the brakes, which only caused him to slip on an ice patch and fall... painfully.

Great. He'd fallen straight on his tailbone. It's not like the pain Jack was feeling amounted to an once of what he'd felt in the past, but at the moment it was all he could think about.

Until he heard a car door slam.

Jack lowered the gun, the shot still ringing in his ears. He couldn't stop staring, there was so much blood, everything was red. His whole body was frozen, and it was all Jack could do to keep himself standing. The gun slipped out of his grasp and dropped to the gound. He couldn't hear the sound it made as it hit the tile foor, and he couldn't hear himself screaming as he brought his hands over his ears to block out the incessant pounding. He screamed louder, trying to make out a sound over the thumping, but there was nothing he could do. All he heard was pounding.

to be continued.

Quick note. I don't have asthma, so I don't know what it feels like to have an asthma attack. Sorry if I got it wrong. See you soon!

-pen