TITLE: Stop the World

CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Four/ Living a Lie

RATING: T (violence/language)

A/N: I know this idea has been done before, probably to death. I'm not trying to copy anyone.

Review please?

Chapter Four: Living a Lie

"I don't know why, I don't know why I'm so afraid
I don't know how, I don't know how to fix the pain
We're livin' a lie, livin' a lie; this needs to change
We're out of time, we're out of time and its still the same"

- Stop the World by Demi Lovato

Jack gripped the counter and stared miserably at his own reflection. The sight in front of him brought the teenager to shudder. It had been three weeks since the last time Evelyn had allowed him to miss school. Three weeks since he had overheard her and Bobby talking about doctors. And three weeks, since Jack had started living a lie. He hid everything he could. The exhaustion, the illness, all of it. He had already been doing so before, but now he became meticulous. Each day, just like this one, he would crawl miserably out of bed before anyone else in the house was up, and pad to the bathroom. Each day, he would track his deteriorating health, and make the necessary adjustments to his disguise.

Jack had always been slender, but now it almost appeared that his skin was hugging the bones. He watched his weight decrease day by day on the bathroom scale, and day by day he added another layer of clothing to his outfit. The extra fabric didn't attract attention as winter was soon to be upon them and Jack actually appreciated the added warmth he could never seem to get enough of. The dark shadows underneath his eyes did not help the disturbing image. He had been getting, on average, eight hours of sleep every night, retreating to bed earlier each evening, claiming homework or practicing on his guitar. He also chose naps over food during lunch period. He spent the majority of his time in Mrs. Kegan's algebra class barely conscious in the back row.

Below the dark circles, though, was something that Jack had not seen before until he got undressed this morning to shower and perform his daily check. Discolored rashes decorated his pale skin. His fingers begged to scratch at them, but Jack shoved them into his pockets. The jeans hung loosely, the waistband running painfully against one particularly large rash along his lower abdomen.

Jack knew he should tell Evelyn about everything that was happening to him, but simply couldn't bring himself to do so. If she knew, she would surely drag him to the hospital. He feared that building more than this sickness, whatever it was.

"Jack! You gonna take all day or what?"

Jack jumped at the sound of Angel's sudden voice. How long had he been staring at himself? He couldn't quite remember. Silently, he added the new addition of the rash and time lapse into his checklist of "shit that really shouldn't be happening to me" list. He quickly fumbled to pull his t-shirt and sweatshirt over his head. He took another glance in the mirror and groaned. He knew what he would have to do. With a begrudging sigh, Jack pulled open his guardian's drawer and rummaged carefully through her makeup. When he was finished, the area under his eyes almost matched his skin color and his cheeks did not appear as sunken in. He shook his head to think what Bobby would say of him putting on makeup and lowered his head.

"I'm gonna bust this door down if you don't –"

Jack clicked the lock and swung the door open, pushing past Angel quickly. He was barely breathing relief over getting past one brother when he collided with another on the stairs.

"Jackie," Bobby's voice was dangerously calm, "I think it's 'bout time you 'n I had a little chat."

"'Bout what?" Jack tried to sound casual, while masking the fear in his chest and fatigue in his head.

"You know what," Bobby hissed. "I know what's goin' on with you."

"W-what?" Jack's eyes briefly betrayed his feigned bravado.

"You got one fuckin' chance here to tell me the truth, Jack. If you don't, this ain't gonna end pretty."

"I – I don't know what you're talkin' about, Bobby."

"Fuckin' lie to me one more time," Bobby leaned forward suddenly, causing Jack to jerk backwards, his feet tangling as he nearly toppled over down the steps. "Shit. I ain't gonna really fuckin' hurt you, Jack."

Jack merely stared at Bobby, his frightened, yet hard gaze now calling Bobby the liar.

"Jack, you gotta know I wouldn't do somethin' like that." Bobby sighed. "But I can and will make your life hell if fuck with me."

"Bobby –"

"Lemme help refresh your memory," Bobby stood and pulled a small bag of white power from his back pocket. "Look familiar?"

Jack just watched hollowly as Bobby waved the substance in front of his face. His heart was crashing against his chest and his stomach had all but leapt up into his throat. In his preoccupation with hiding one thing, Jack had stupendously failed in hiding something else of almost equal importance. Where Bobby had found his stash, Jack had no clue. Upon a quick search of his memory, Jack couldn't honestly remember where he had hidden them that last time. With a hollowness in his stomach, Jack knew it wasn't the high that had made him forget. The drugs had been a way of coping for years. Sure, a foster sibling found out here or there, but most of them didn't care of joined in. When he moved in with the Mercers, it had initially been no different than before. Slowly, he found himself needing the escape less and less. Recently though, he had taken to using even more than he previously had. It was no longer about escaping the emotional pain of his past, but the physical pain of his present.

As Bobby fixed him with a stare that would have left a much younger Jack with piss stained pants, he knew he should be acting frantic or furious. Instead, he just stood there, too sick and too in shock to move. He could see the coat rack from the stairs, vaguely noting that Evelyn's coat and keys were missing. She had already left for work. Probably an emergency with one of her cases. Still, it simply caused Jack to worry more and less at the same time. More, because, really, just how much time had he missed spacing out in the bathroom? More, because who knew what Bobby would do to him without her there. Less, because she wasn't there to hear this conversation. Less, because he wouldn't have to see that look of disappointment in her eyes. Somehow, it was worse than the glares he had grown up receiving.

"Too fuckin' high to care, huh?" Bobby guessed incorrectly. "You'll care soon enough. You're done. I catch you with somethin' like this again, I swear Jack –" he let the threat linger before continuing. "This ends now."

Jack begrudgingly followed Bobby down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jack heeded Bobby's pointing and allowed himself to collapse into a chair at the dining room table. He wanted to curse at Bobby, to tell him that he had no right to do what he was doing. Jack wasn't Bobby's brother and Bobby wasn't Jack's guardian. He didn't for a second want to lose the drugs. He needed them. But he needed secrecy more than anything else. This family had been growing suspicious of Jack. Let them think it's drugs. Drugs was better than letting them know the alternative. It had to be.

Jack had just put his hammering head down in his hands when something slammed against the table. He groggily glanced up to see a tall glass of water at the edge of his nose.

"Drink," Bobby commanded with no room for objection in his tone. "And when you're done, you'll drink another – and another – and another – until that shit's flushed outta your fuckin' system. I don't care if you have to down lake fucking Michigan. You gotta piss, I'll take you to piss. And I'll stand in the damn doorway holding your hand if I have to until you're good 'n ready to come right back down here and keep going. Then, you're gonna sit your ass on that couch so I can keep an eye on you. Well, get the fuck goin', here, princess. I ain't got all damn day."