Chapter Eleven
Over the next two weeks, Jack's life was turning upside down. Lock had sunk into a silent, depressed state--she wouldn't speak unless she had to and stayed locked up in her room. Kett had started getting mean again, slapping Jack over nothing, and it was only escalating-quickly.
Jack winced as he rolled over, his bruised ribs protesting violently, and stared at the wall of Kett's bedroom. His so-called "boyfriend" had just raped him for the third time that night and he felt disgusting and dirty--just like he used to when he foster dad's had fucked him. He heard the shower shut off and Kett emerged. Jack desperately wanted a shower, but didn't think Kett would really let him take one.
"Jack-o," Kett said casually, as if he hadn't just fucked the teen against his will. "Get a shower, you're filthy. Then get ready to go home."
Jack gladly went to take a shower, hissing when he found that Kett had used all the hot water, but at least he was clean. He scrubbed his body with soap, used two handfuls of shampoo, and still felt disgusting.
I can take a hot shower at home, he thought as he dried off.
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Bruises covered his abdomen, he could see two shoe prints clearly, and felt sick. He'd been pissing blood for the last two days, after Kett had kicked the shit out of his back, but he thought that he was healing. He made up his mind to leave Kett once and for all.
"Oh, baby!" Kett laughed, walking in. "Here, put these on, we're goin' to the Noose."
"I thought I was going home," Jack mumbled, taking the clothes.
"You will," Kett grabbed his face hard, "but first, we're goin' to the Noose. I hear they got a band and I wanna check 'em out."
"Sounds great!" Jack faked a smirk. "Do you know what band?"
"Mmm," Kett pulled the towel from Jack's waist. "Not right off hand, but they're also doing an open mic night."
"I see," he murmured, watching Kett closely.
"Jack-o?" Kett moved closer, hands trailing Jack's sides.
"Hmmm?" Jack cursed his body, it was already reacting to Kett's touch--no matter how much he didn't want it to.
"Member how last night you told me to---what was it again?" Kett looked into his eyes.
Oh shit. . .
"Blow me," he whispered.
We were fighting! I didn't mean it! Jesus, this is gonna be bad. . .
"Ahhh, yes," Kett kissed his neck, moving lower. "Blow you. . .well, the offer's still standing, correct?"
Jack moaned in response as Kett's mouth moved lower, his damn body was all fired up and he prayed Kett wasn't messing around--blue balls was the one thing he didn't need right now. His eyes fluttered shut, he couldn't keep them open, and he arched into Kett's unlying mouth. He grabbed the sink with both hands to keep from collapsing, hating himself, but loving the moment. Kett was never on the giving end, blow job wise, and he was damn good.
"Oh. . .," Jack gasped as Kett started moving his hips with his hands, his head tipped back against the medicine cabinet. "My. . .god. . .Kett!"
"Well, that was quick," Kett laughed, licking what he had missed. "Now, you know why I refuse to blow you, Jack-o! I'm too damn good! Get ready to go."
Jack wiped his face while he got ready, yelling at himself for actually letting Kett do that. The man had beat the shit out of him and raped him not twenty minutes ago and he goes and lets him to that.
I'm so fuckin' stupid! he almost slapped himself. God damned idiot, fuckin' moron!
'That's not love, Jack. . .That's control. . .' Lock's words floated back to him.
"Control," he murmured, "well no more control for him! I told myself to leave! And I am!"
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"Stray?" Bobby called, coming down the steps. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," she called.
Bobby opened the door and watched her mess with her guitar. He sat on the foot of the bed, a good ways away from her. He had learned to not crowd Lock, but to let her come to him--just like a stray animal.
"You up for a cruise?" he grinned.
"Where? And why?" she put her guitar up.
"The Noose and cuz," he laughed. "I figured you need a night out of this room."
"Bobby," she whined, "what's the catch?"
"What do you mean? Catch?"
"My band isn't gonna be playin'. . .Aiden dropped, remember?" she grumbled.
"I know that!" he laughed loudly. "But, they do have another band and it's open mic night. . ."
He wants to hear me sing again? Is that it? Or is this some sort of trap?. . .
"Open mic night?" she muttered, looking into the blue eyes. "That's new. . ."
"So," the older man leaned back on his elbows, "what do ya say? Cruise?"
"Does Evelyn know? I don't want-."
"I've been planning this for the last couple days, kiddo. Ma won't be mad, I've talked to her 'bout it. . .You just have to promise me somethin'."
"What's that?" she felt nervous, even though it was Bobby--she was still wary of everyone.
Bobby got up and then kneeled in front of her, looking into her eyes, a half smirk on his serious face.
"You promise me right now that you won't try to bail if I take you there," he was very serious, even with the smirk.
"I promise, Bobby," she said softly.
"Cool, you wanna change before we go?" he smiled and arched an eyebrow.
She smiled and nodded, feeling better. Bobby grinned, scrunched his nose at her, and left, messing up her hair on his way out. She laughed, fixing her hair, and whipped her pillow at him. He spun, caught it, and gave her a playful squint before tossing it back.
The big brother I've never had. . .
"Move your ass, meet me in the car when you're done."
"Right!"
Bobby pulled the door closed behind him and Lock clicked the lock on it. She already knew what she was going to wear. She threw her painted jeans on the bed, they were all holey from a night she got bored. Then she found her purple-and-black, and her neon green-and-black striped knee highs---taking one from each pair. She took off her T-shirt, pulling a hot pink fishnet with long sleeves on, then put her T back on. She stripped her jeans, pulled on her knee high, mismatched stockings, and her splatter jeans, and finally slipped into her combat boots. Lastly, she grabbed Jackie's old leather coat and bolted to meet Bobby.
"Jesus Christ!" he laughed when he saw her outfit. "You've got to be the only girl on Earth with no fashion sense!"
"Bobby," she snickered, buckling up, "maybe I'm the only one with real fashion sense. Ever think of it that way?"
"No," he smiled, "and that's what I like about you, kiddo: you think differently than the rest."
"And I make you think!"
He let out another loud burst of laughter as he backed out. Lock soon joined him in singing "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns 'N' Roses, laughing the whole way to the club.
Please don't be like the others, she prayed silently. Show me--prove to me--that I can be close to someone and not suffer. . .
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They were still laughing an hour later, even though they missed the band. Lock swore she saw Jackie and Kett at the bar, but couldn't be sure. She giggled as she tossed a Skittle across the table, Bobby caught it in his mouth and rose his arms in victory, smiling and eating his catch.
"Stray," Bobby sighed, taking a drink of beer, "mind if I ask you somethin'? And you won't be mad?"
"Depends," she said, sipping her Cherry Coke through a neon straw.
"Well, I'll just ask then.. You ain't gotta answer--Fair?"
"Fair enough."
"Is this, who I'm seeing right now, the real Lock? The one nobody knows?" he held her eyes with his, popping a Skittle in his mouth.
Be honest, Lock. . .
"Part of me. . .it's hard to explain. . ."
"No, I think I get it," he nodded to himself. "Mind if I ask somethin' else?"
She shook her head, reaching over and stealing some Skittles, smirking.
"What I saw two weeks ago. . .was that another part of you?"
"Which part? Me goin' nuts on a cop, taking a swing on you in the process, or the emotional breakdown part?" she grumbled.
"Both, or all. . ."
"Yes, those are parts of the real me. . .I try to keep hidden. . .I don't know who will use it against me. . .and some parts scare me. . .I'm rambling. . ."
"Ha, can I have the privilege of saying that I'm getting' to know you now?" he whispered.
"Sure. . .sorta. . .Bobby, is that Jackie and Kett at the bar?" she needed a change of subject and to satisfy her curiosity.
The blue eyes scanned the bar casually, making her grin--Bobby could make a great spy. He squinted, leaned forward, and nodded.
"Yeah, that's them all right. . ." he growled.
"Bobby, don't," she warned. "For me, don't."
"Never fear, Stray," he grinned. "I'll behave."
"Thank you," she smirked, eating more candy.
"Aw, FUCK!" he hissed, still looking over her shoulder at the bar. "They've spotted us now too. . .Here they come, both of us need to be good."
"Shit," she grumbled, "all right, both behave."
Lock tensed up, feeling Kett get closer without seeing him, Bobby took a deep breath and nodded. She worried that he would get drunk, even though he'd had only the one beer, and almost asked him to stop. Jack's smell of cologne drifted to her nose and her eyes slid shut as she enjoyed it.
"Hey guys!" Kett cried happily, standing near the table. "We never thought we'd see you here!"
"Yeah, same here," Bobby muttered, looking at Jack.
"Hey, Bobby," Jack said softly, leaning on the back of the bench behind Lock.
He's been actin' different lately. . .Kett's been hittin' him again--I can tell, I just ain't got the proof. . .she thought.
"Hey, Lock," Kett smiled at her.
She didn't trust her mouth, so she clenched her jaw and nodded at him. She repressed a jump when Jack leaned down close and shivered when his mouth brushed her ear.
"Lock, can I ask you a favor?" he murmured.
"Sure, Jack," she cocked her head to look into his hazel eyes. "What's up?"
"Jack-o here wants to sing!" Kett laughed.
"That so, Jackie?" Bobby asked, grinning at his baby brother.
"Yeah," he whispered shyly, "but I need a girl for the song. . .Lock, you the only one here that I know. . .and I know that you sing. . .Do you mind?"
"What song are you singing?"
"I'm sure you'll know it. . .I was gonna play the guitar with it too. . .If you don't know it when I start playin' we can pick another one. . ."
"When are you goin' up?" she stared into his soft eyes.
"Now, if you're ready. . ." he murmured.
"Oh, I can't wait to hear you, Jack-o!" Kett hugged Jack from behind and Lock thought she heard him whimper in pain.
"Knock 'em dead you two," Bobby winked. "I'll be listening."
"Ready, Lock?" Jack muttered, as Kett kissed him.
"Sure," she said, getting up and keeping her distance from Kett.
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Jack followed her to the stage, where they met Brutal--the bouncer. Jack cowered close to her as he gazed at the big ex-biker, making Lock snicker. Big and bad as Brutal was, he was a softie for the girl.
"You singin'?" he asked in his gruff voice.
"Both of us are," she grinned. "They gotta guitar up there?"
"An acoustic, sure. . .You playin'?"
"Nope, Jack is!" she stepped to the side. "Jack this is Brutal, Brutal this is Jack."
Brutal jerked his chin up to the boy as a greeting, Jackie nodded in return, nervous. Brutal stepped aside and let them pass. Jack gently brushed fingers with her and she impulsively laced them together, very lightly. He grabbed a stool, put it in front of the mic, and picked up the acoustic--checking the tuning. Lock got a stool from the crowd, put it close to Jack's, and sat. They were very close and had to be: only one mic had been put out. Jack strummed, stopped, tuned it again, then looked to her--he was ready. She smiled and nodded. He began to strum the song and she wanted to melt.
I know this song!! It's a terrific one. . .a little romantic, but a good one. . .she smirked, watching his hands move on the guitar.
His deep voice made her heart stop, he watched her intently, she watched him, and the song began--them singing to each other, but Jack's verse was first.
"I wanted you to know
That I love the way you laugh.
I wanna hold you high
And steal your pain away.
I keep your photograph,
I know it serves me well.
I wanna hold you high
And steal your pain away. . ."
She joined him and got ready for her verse, still staring into the hazel pools, and used a rare-heard, non-screaming voice--sounding like the girl she was.
"Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right
When you're gone away,"
Jack took a line before her verse.
"You've gone away,
You don't feel me here anymore. . ."
There was something in the air as she started singing, losing herself in the song.
"The worst is over now
And we can breath again.
I wanna hold you high
And steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn
And no one left to fight.
I wanna hold you high
And steal your pain,"
Again, they sang to each other, with each other. Their faces separated only by the microphone.
"Cause I'm broken
When I'm open
And I don't feel like
I'm strong enough.
Cause I'm broken
When I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right
When you're gone away
Cause I'm broken
When I'm open
And I don't feel like
I'm strong enough.
Cause I'm broken
When I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right
When you're gone away. . ."
They faded out together, Jack letting the last note ring, and the crowd went nuts. They stood, clapped, whooped, and whistled for them. Jack smiled and glanced to Bobby, whose jaw was on the floor. Kett looked sort of pissed off, but Lock ignored him. She grabbed Jack's hand and stood, pulling him up with her, then bowed. They darted off the stage laughing together.
"That was unbelievable!" she smiled.
"It went better than I thought it would," he grinned.
"Modesty?" she hugged him.
He winced and hissed, she pulled back and looked at him. He stared at the floor, tears in his eyes, and Lock pulled his shirt up.
"Oh, Jackie," she felt tears fall as she saw the battered body. "What the hell did he do?!"
"Don't tell, Lock!" he pleaded, crying. "Don't tell anyone! I'm leaving him tonight, I swear to God! He's gotten so bad. . ."
"Jackie," she held his face, "I'll kill the son of a bitch! I swear to fucking God!"
"Lock. . .don't go to jail over him. . .please," he looked her in the eyes. "I don't want you to leave. . ."
"All right, Jackie. . ." she murmured. "You go on ahead, 'k? I'm gonna sing somethin' else, I think. . ."
And think of ways to lure that fuck into a fight with me, she thought. He's not getting away with what he does to Jack anymore!
"All right. . .Thanks, Lock." he whispered, skittering off.
"I'm goin' again, Brute!" she growled.
"Sure thing, kid," he let her by.
She grabbed the guitar, sat on the stool, and went through a list of songs in her head. Finally, she picked one.
"This song goes out to all those lost souls," she purred into the mic, making eye contact with everyone--three someones in particular. "Who have done something they regret, but never knew how to say it. . .Or never knew how to say what really needed to be said."
She played the intro and began to sing, slowly--using her best voice she could.
"Oh I had a lot to say
Was thinkin' on my time away
I missed you and things weren't the same
Cause everything inside,
It never comes out right
And when I see you cry,
If makes me want to die. . .
I'm sorry I'm bad,
I'm sorry I'm blue,
I'm sorry about all the things I said to you
And I know I can't take it back
I love how you kiss,
I love all your sounds,
And baby, the way you make my world go round
And I just wanted to say:
I'm sorry. . .
This time I think I'm to blame,
It's harder to get through these days,
You get older and blame turns to shame. . .
Cause everything inside,
It never comes out right
And when I see you cry,
It makes me want to die. . .
I'm sorry I'm bad,
I'm sorry I'm blue,
I'm sorry about all the things I said to you.
And I know I can't take it back. . .
I love how you kiss,
I love all your sounds,
And baby, you make my world go round. . .
And I just wanted to say:
I'm sorry
Every single day
I think about how we came all this way
The sleepless nights and the tears you cried,
It's never too late to make it right. . .
Oh yeah sorry!
I'm sorry I'm bad,
I'm sorry I'm blue,
I'm sorry about all the things I said to you.
And I know I can't take it back. . .
I love how you kiss,
I love all your sounds,
And baby, you make my world go round. . .
And I just wanted to say:
I'm sorry!"
She let the words ring in the minds of the people, tears hidden in her eyes, and left the stage.
Songs used: First one: Broken-Seether and Evanescence! Second one: Sorry-Buckcherry. . .