NOT UPDATED YET, (I was just going through and fixing things in my stories cause I haven't looked at them in forever. I don't remember where I was going with this however, and would not be sure how to finish it, ahhhh I'm a terrible person)
Wow, okay before I begin I sincerely want to apologize for not updating there's no excuse, sorry guys. I changed emails so didn't get the reminder from the reviews, but I was reading them and started to feel very guilty, so here after a long wait, is chapter 5.
I'll give you a short summary in case someone returns and doesn't feel like re-reading. So Jack runs away from his home because he accidentally shot his foster mother, is found by Bobby, taken to the mercers, has an asthma attack, runs away from the cops at the hospital, aaaand has just been brought to the hospital again and has figured out that no one knows that he killed someone.
The Song is Blackout by Muse. Find it on youtube if you wanna listen.
...
"Thank God you're okay Jack! I've been looking for you everywhere!"
At that moment Jack's heart sank down to his toes as he suppressed a shudder and the desire to bolt right then and there. He had to remember that there was a cop standing right next to him. Instead he lowered his head to the ground and tried to stop himself from trembling.
"Well get up then." Mr. Parades spoke cheerfully, "I'm taking you home now."
Of course nobody would be able to hear the menace in those words save Jack, yet instead of listening a sudden resolve overtook him. He knew that Mr. Parades couldn't lay a hand on him while there was a cop in the room, and he figured if he said something about the abuse he wouldn't have to go back to the house.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." Jack mumbled, still staring at the floor. The ticking of the clock in the solitary room seemed muffled and ten times too loud in his ears.
"Oh?" Mr. Parades asked as his voice took on a sinister note, "But your foster mother has been really worried Jack, you wouldn't want to cause her any harm would you?" He paused as he waited for Jack's head to snap up and his eyes to widen. "One could even call it… murder."
Jack began shaking his head back and forth slightly as he closed his eyes and attempted to stop his mind from spinning. Vaguely he could hear the cop beside him shifting his weight and Bobby who had been in the corner move in closer.
There was no reply Jack could let spill from his lips.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bobby spat at Mr. Parades.
In reply, the man cocked his head to the side and gave Bobby a curious look.
"I ought to thank you…" He started slowly, "For finding Jack here so soon. God knows what would've happened if you hadn't." He then turned towards Jack and sent him a message through his eyes that was all to clear.
"Come on now Jack, your mother is waiting."
With that, he turned on his heel and headed out the door, knowing that Jack had no choice but to follow him.
He was going to throw up. Even as he walked, Jack could feel the sick bile rising in his throat as he struggled to move each foot forward and follow his foster father, finding it harder with every step. What could he do though? There was no more running, no more trying to escape what he had done; all that Jack could think was that he deserved the punishment that he was going to get when he got to the house. He decided he wasn't even going to fight. He let out the breath he'd been holding and continued walking forward, feeling the familiar prickle of tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. As he fought against the haze in his mind Jack mentally scoffed. How could crying possibly help his situation?
Jack hardly had the energy to cry out in pain when he felt a hand grab his upper arm, even if it was gentle, and all he could muster was a faint whimper, but he wasn't even sure if the sound came from the pain. A part of him hoped that the cop had figured it out, and that he wouldn't let Jack go back to the house, even if it meant Mr. Parades would let slip what he'd done. When he turned around however, it was Bobby who was pulling his hand back in apology.
"Jesus, sorry kid." He murmured.
Jack noticed, as he stared up at the man with dead, hardened eyes that he had a funny look on his face. Who was he to be concerned about him? Bobby had already proven that he didn't care about his fate when he'd dragged him to the hospital.
Bobby continued staring at the kid with concern however, his eyebrows pulled together tightly.
"I'm going to find out what's going on here Jack." He stated simply before turning and walking away, leaving the boy standing in the hall in confusion, tricked for only a moment from the mask he had plastered on his face. Was that a threat? Jack's instinctive side told him that it was, and that it should only give him the need to become more wary. Yet, there was still a part of him that told him that it was a promise.
When he finally reached the car, Jack got into the back seat, and shut the door as quietly as possible. As the car rolled closer to the house, Jack found it increasingly difficult to suppress the fear that was bubbling into action inside his chest. He closed his eyes and focused on listening to the tires rolling through the slush, and sending it crashing onto the sidewalk. One of the windows in the front was open a slight crack, and a sharp, high pitched whistling could be heard, filling the car with an icy breeze.
When these sounds stopped suddenly, Jack opened his eyes and found that they had arrived at the house already. An all consuming dread filled his entire body as he watched Mr. Parades get out of the car and walk around to his door. His footsteps seemed magnified to an ear splitting pitch as they fell in the slush and made their way towards him. This was fear that Jack had not known in his entire life. It gripped at his insides and was released by the pounding of his heart as it dripped down in beads of sweat on his face and hands. Once more, he found his breath begin to falter and to come out in short gasps of air, but there was no one to help him this time.
When Mr. Parades pulled him out of the car by grabbing him under the arm, he did not cry out.
He knew he was being carried because he couldn't feel his feet moving, yet they were making steady progress towards the door of the house.
The first blow caught him off guard; the door had hardly been closed behind them.
"Stand up Jack."
After the fifth blow, he could feel the taste of copper in his mouth.
"You're not even gunna fight back Jackie?"
He didn't know how he was still conscious; he knew he hadn't been breathing for a long time now.
"Not even gunna try to escape?"
Or maybe he wasn't conscious…
"I guess you have learned something then haven't you?
He couldn't feel anything, and yet… he knew he heard someone screaming.
"No more escaping for Jackie."
...
Jack could feel through his eyelids that it was light somewhere.
He never really thought pain like this was possible. Physically, Jack figured that if someone was in this much pain, they must be dead. The only place that Jack could possibly be was in hell. He didn't want to open his eyes, because if he opened his eyes, whatever reality he was facing at the moment would come to life, whether it was hell… or something much worse.
He could feel something funny though… which was weird because he didn't think it was possible to feel anything besides the pain. Yet, he could still tell that he was lying on a bed. So he wasn't dead. Fuck.
Slowly, Jack opened one eye a slight crack, but quickly squished his face shut when he realized where he was.
"Oh god." He groaned.
He was in his old room, lying on his old bed on his back, and from the light coming through the window Jack knew it was morning.
As he struggled to think, a fog began to take over his mind, and he found that he could no longer concentrate.
...
A number of days must have passed in that room, how many Jack had no idea.
He knew he wouldn't be able to take a shower yet, so Jack decided the only thing he could do would be to take a bath. He opened the door a crack and listened, his heart once more in his throat. When he was satisfied the he heard no sound from the hall, he crept out of his room and to the top of the stairs, where he peered down into the living room cautiously.
The room was decently clean, there were no dark spots on the walls or the floor has there had been, and the furniture was all in the same place. The furniture was nice, as they weren't poor, yet clearly not overly wealthy. Mr. Parades worked at a small retail company, but Jack knew that's not how they received all their income. Mrs. Parades was a teacher, and brought in some money, but…
Jack's train of thought ended there.
He turned abruptly back to the hall and made his way to the bathroom. He had a difficult time getting into the bathtub without causing himself serious pain, as well as washing his cuts, because underneath them dark bruises protruded through his skin. When he was finished, he dried his hair and headed to the sink to brush his teeth.
He didn't look in the mirror until he was finished, but when he did he wasn't disappointed. It was pretty bad. Although at least he didn't have dried blood all over him, and his hair was clean, he wouldn't be able to go in public for awhile without raising some serious questions. After he had treated himself to a healthy dose of antibacterial cream, Jack made his way back to the hall, knowing he had to get something to eat.
A soft knock on the door caused Jack to jump and drop the last crumbs of his meal. He froze for a few seconds, listening for anymore sounds. Another knock followed, and Jack decided he would answer, seeing as it couldn't be his foster father.
"Is he here?"
Relief washed over him when he opened the door and found his best friend Ben leaning against the doorframe.
He shook his head in reply.
"We've missed you at school man." Ben spoke, staring intently into Jack's eyes. Jack just shrugged.
"I've been busy." He tried to answer, but found that it came out terribly raspy.
"Did he take your puffer again?" Ben asked.
"I lost it." Was the only reply Jack could muster.
Jack could feel Ben looking through the bruises on his face and taking in his bloodshot eyes and his trembling hands.
"I can do you one better then a puffer Jackie."
A blurry memory of words that Mr. Parades had spoken stirred in Jack's mind.
"No more escaping for Jackie."
But Jack knew that his foster father was wrong.
-To Be Continued
Alright guys there you go, I do hope to finish this one day.