"Because nobody goes through life without a scar." -Carol Burnett
It was ugly; all jagged and discolored, ruining the peachy flesh of his neck. There was no way to remove it, to undo what had happened- what daddy had done… to him.
Slade.
Running his fingers over the raised skin Jericho felt the shivers of hatred travel through his veins. Anger, resentment, guilt, sadness, and all the other hurtful emotions were trapped inside of him; locked in the quietness of his cage. Quickly the boy pulled his shirt back in place; his scar covered-hidden, temporarily forgotten. He was a hero now, his pain was fuel to protect others.
That was enough justification, right?
Empty green eyes stared back at him full with doubt and despair. No longer willing to accept the lies he told himself. Jericho looked away from the mirror to avoid the disdain marring his typically gentle features, his father's pride engraved on his throat was throbbing. He would be nothing like him; he wasn't going to follow in the footsteps of a killer.
He wasn't like him. He wasn't his brother.
Grant.
Grant had blue irises, they were such a light shade it was as if barely any color resided in them at all…just like daddy. And when he would boil over they would shift into a stormy gray, the same shade he had seen on his father the night the man chose his code over his son.
It was a terrible reminder, bad things happen when blue turns to gray.
People die.
Gripping the cold ceramic edge of the sink Jericho inhaled deeply. The sweat on his palms made his hands slippery as he dug his fingers harder on the counter. He was a good boy, he was kind-mommy's favorite.
Adeline.
She was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen, with auburn locks and emerald eyes- the same ones he was born with. He was his mother's son; Adeline made him beautiful like her.
He was supposed to stay that way, stay clean -innocent.
For mom, she loved him and his voic-
No.
Not anymore. He was ruined, blemished, tainted … scarred.
Glancing back to his reflection Jericho nearly flooded the basin as he splashed freezing water over his flushed cheeks. His team wasn't allowed to see him like this- he was the happy one, the peaceful musician who had nothing but positivity radiating through him.
No tears permitted.
Walking out into the narrow hallways of the tower with a tiny grin, Jericho made his way to greet his friends as usual in complete silence. They didn't know why he never spoke, and he would never tell them. But whenever they asked the young teen would simply shrug his shoulders and eventually everyone dropped it.
Why question the norm?
And after all, Jericho believed it was his burden to carry, and was too self sacrificial to cause the slightest discomfort with his new found family. Because what if they left him? What if his history hurt them? What if-
The boy shook his head clear as he joined them at the breakfast table, all the others chatting freely unaware of the weight crushing their youngest member.
Jericho's smile was only skin deep.