Dear damn, he hurt. JJ's ribs, face, fingers, everything. Everything hurt.
He couldn't remember a time when his father had beaten him this hard. Resting his head against the kitchen counter as he sits on the floor, JJ's hands clamp over the slice on his stomach and the ache in his neck. His father, racked with rage at his son's 'selfishness', caused simply by JJ only coming home for food, had kicked him in the throat with a hardened boot, sending JJ flying backwards.
How badly it hurt to be kicked in the neck like that, he couldn't explain. But while his eyes are screwed shut from the shock, there's a deep, sharp sting in his side. The blonde's eyes fly open and he sees his father wielding a broken beer bottle, dripping in something red.
JJ immediately looks down to his torso to see thick red soaking his shirt. Pulling the singlet up quickly, he could see the blood pumping out of his skin in sync with his heartbeat.
There's suddenly blood in his mouth as he feels a bang in his head. His father's heel crashes into his face, leaving pain and blood in in its wake.
Luke kneels down and begins rifling in his son's pockets, only stopping when he finds loose cash.
"Only come on home if you've got shit for me." He snaps before walking out.
JJ lies in his own blood as he catches his breath, spluttering and coughing from the mouthfuls of blood that slide down his throat. With weak fingers, he stretches his hand out to the battered phone that sits beside him. The first contact in his list is John B, and he taps the name, blood-slicked finger sliding over the screen.
The dial tone rings out for four rounds, and then the voice appears, slightly too close to the speaker. "Hey Jay, I'll call you back later. I'm with… someone."
There is the unmistakable sound of Sarah's laugh in the background and JJ coughs wetly. "JB, please-"
"See you-" John B hands up the phone.
Staring vacantly at the screen that goes black, JJ drops it to the ground and puts his hand back over his wound, sliding down to press his face to the tile, head getting fuzzier, and fuzzier.
20 Minutes later
Pope throws a ball at the wood and catches it, before throwing it again. "You sure JJ said he was coming?" He asks. "He was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago."
"Yeah." John B scratches at the exposed wood of the pier with his nail. They've all called JJ at least two times each, and haven't been answered.
"Come on then." Kie stands up, tugging her shirt on.
"To?"
"Go find that idiot."
They pile one by one into the Twinkie, John B behind the wheel. Careening down the familiar dirt tracks, they theorise where their friend could be.
"Drunk." Pope suggests.
"Asleep." Sarah adds.
"Maybe he's dead." Cleo jokes.
That hits a certain nerve in John B as he recounts the phone call earlier. "Wait, guys?"
"Yeah?"
"Did JJ call you guys at all today?"
"No." Kie answers. "You?"
"Well, yeah. Like… half an hour ago. But I hung up because Sarah and I were… Well, yeah, I hung up."
"Did he say anything?"
John B's insides twist as he remembers and comprehends what he heard on the call. "He- Oh my god-" Keeping one hand on the wheel, he rubs the other on his face. "In the same second that I hung up, he said, 'JB, please.' He didn't… didn't sound good."
Cleo grips the back of John B's seat. "What sort of not good?"
"Like… weak."
Kie's head shoots up. "What if he's sick?"
The driver sighs. "I don't think so. I think- he said his dad was down at Fisherman's bar today. Should've come home an hour ago."
"Yeah, and?" Pope inquires.
"Let me say that again. Luke Maybank was at the bar today."
Kiara's jaw falls slack. "He must have come home drunk."
"Shit-" Kiara says. She and Pope understand the gravity of the situation slightly more than Cleo and Sarah, but neither are more worried than John B, who pushes harder on the accelerator.
They ignore swerving traffic and imposing speed limit signs to race to the Maybank residence. Pope, Kiara, Sarah and Cleo jump out of the van before John B even has a chance to stop it.
Feet pounding the compacted dirt path, John catches up to his friends after haphazardly parking the Twinkie. They try the front door, but it's locked. John B immediately runs to the side of the house and the others follow. He was pretty much the only one of the group that ever went to JJ's house at any time, so they trusted him.
"This window's lock is busted." He says, sliding open the living room window. They all clamber in, one after the other.
There's nothing in the living area but pill bottles, chip packets and beer. Sarah wrinkles her nose at how deep the smell of weed in ingrained into these walls.
They split up, calling out for JJ. John B takes the boy's bedroom, and Pope Luke's. The bathroom is inspected by Cleo, Sarah keeps checking the lounge room and Kiara peers out into the backyard.
Within seconds, there is a small, weak call of "John B?"
Shooting his head up, John B launches into the hallway, pushing past the others to run into the kitchen.
And there he is.
JJ Maybank, lying curled up on the dirty kitchen tiles, blood all around. He barely manages to look up, eyes red and bloodshot. "John B?" He murmurs again, voice trembling and weak.
"Yeah- Yeah, buddy. I'm here." He rushes to kneel beside his friend's head. "God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
JJ looks confused and disoriented. "For… wh-what?"
"Hanging up on you when you called half an hour ago. I was distracted, and I wasn't even thinking."
"Half… an hour?" the blonde pants. "I thought it was five minutes ago."
"He's delusional, probably the blood loss." Pope lifts the shirt and hisses at the wound. "Shit, we need to get him to hospital."
Pope and Cleo take his legs, with Kiara supporting his back, wincing as they hear JJ hiss at the pain from being lifted. Sarah runs to the Twinkie and hauls the door open. John B carries his friend under the arms, looking down at the blood-spattered, red face. "God, I'm sorry, Jay." He murmurs. "I shouldn't have hung up, God, I'm s-"
"Sh." JJ shushes his friend.
JJ cries out in pain when he's laid down on the floor of the van. John B jumps in the drivers seat, barely waiting for the door to be shut before he tears out onto the road.
"m' thirsty." JJ whispers, wiping at his shut eyes with shaky hands.
"Yeah, uh- water, we need water." Pope looks around the messy interior, unable to move his hands due to the pressure he keeps on his friend's wound.
Cleo stands up, getting mildly thrown around by John B's driving, but manages to find a half-full bottle of water behind a seat. "Here."
Kiara takes it from her, unscrewing the cap. "I've got water, Jayj." He puts her hand to JJ's face and he flinches, but she keeps it there to steady his head. "It's okay." She lifts the bottle to the blonde's lips to let him drink.
Despite the brassy taste of the water mixed with the blood on his lips, he drinks like his life depends on it, water spilling into his mouth and down his face.
It does nothing to alleviate his pain, though. As soon as Kiara lets him go and he's finished drinking, he presses his face into the crook of his elbow, eyes still shut. "Where- Where's J- Where's John B?" He whines.
"Here." John B says, reaching his hand back while keeping the other on the steering wheel. "I'm here, J." JJ grips his hand, and he feels ashamed, having hung up on his friend that he should have been there for. He'd promised, when they were 12, that JJ could always call him if his father did something, and that he would always pick up.
The twinkie is jerkily steered left and Sarah looks back to see JJ. "Drive softly, John! You're hurting him!"
Pope looks up in horror. "You just turned left, this isn't the way to the hospital!"
John B clenches his jaw. "We're not going to the hospital."
Despite the gut-wrenching, tear-jerking pain, JJ grins weakly and squeezes his friend's hand. "Good man."
"What the fuck do you mean?!" Pope exclaims.
"We're going back to the Chateau. We don't have enough money for medical shit. And JJ always runs away from hospitals anyway."
"He's fucking bleeding!" Kiara says, steadying herself by planting a hand on the wall of the van. "My paren-"
"Your parents hate me." JJ hisses. "They won't pay for shit."
"You're fucking- There's blood everywhere."
"It's fine." John B snaps. "This is what we usually do."
"Usually?" Cleo asks.
"Don't look at us! This is the first time I've seen JJ this bad." Pope says. "Only John B does that."
They pull into the Chateau with record speed, ripping the door open and hoisting the boy up and into the building. Placing him on the kitchen floor as not to stain a couch, they all kneel around him.
It hardly takes a minute before the medical supplies are around them and John B holds a needle and thread.
"You're going to stitch it?!" Sarah sounds horrified. "You can't."
JJ lifts up his own shirt for his friend.
"You're going to let Johnathan Booker Routledge sew your wound?" Kiara sounds horrified.
JJ can only manage to nod and spit out a few words. "usually does."
Everyone's insides twist as they hear JJ's muffled whines and see the tears cover his face in haphazard trails when his wound begins to be fixed.
"I'm sorry-" the leader of the pogues says.
"Hu-Hurry up." JJ hisses.
When the final stitch is done, the Maybank's body relaxes into the tile.
They all sigh.
"JJ." John B holds his friend's face in his hands. "What hurts, apart from the… giant gaping wound on your side?"
At his friend's touch, JJ's face crumples. "Everything."
"You're going to need to be more specific than that, please."
"Uh-" The blonde looks like he struggles to think. "My head?"
"Like a headache?"
He tries to shake his head but it hurts. "No."
Pope looks at his friend's head and says solemnly, 'There's glass in his hair."
"My skin hurts."
"Where?"
"All over."
They pull off JJ's shirt, John B being the only one who doesn't look on with horror at years worth of scars and disfigurements over the boy's chest. His upper body is littered with little cuts, some from shards of broken glass, man from the sharp toe of Luke's boot hitting him.
"My neck." JJ whimpers, his bloody hand gripping John B's shoulder. "It hurts, John. Please-"
JJ is fair in what he says, because they are horrified when they look at it. A giant, red, purpuric bruise spans all the way across this throat, broken subcutaneous blood vessels making it look mottled and terrible.
"Oh My God." Sarah says. "What happened?"
"Did he try to… strangle you again?" John B asks gingerly.
"No." his hands do not leave his friend's shirt. "Kicked me."
"In the neck?" Kiara winces.
"Anything… else?"
JJ shakes his head with effort. "I don't think so." He hiccups. "It hurts, John B." He whimpers. He'd only been talking to him the whole time, as if the others did not exist. John B was what he always had when his dad hurt him. John B was always the one bandaging him and giving him food. John B was always there when his father wasn't.
John lifts JJ's head into his lap. "It's okay, bubba. We'll fix it." John B murmured softly, using the nickname and soft tone only ever reserved for situations like this where JJ cried.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think that JJ Maybank had stolen your man." Kiara whispers in Sarah's ear, who slaps her on the arm.
They get to work wiping delicately at the blood, apologising profusely whenever JJ whines. John B runs his fingers through his friend's blonde hair, picking out shards of glass, andcollecting them in a pile beside his foot.
When it's done, everyone sits in silence. "I don't want to go home." JJ says gruffly, evidently trying to pull himself out of his vulnerable state.
But John B won't let him. Still running his hands through his hair, he says, "You don't have to. Stay in the Chateau."
"No, I don't-" JJ breathes heavily. "I don't want to go back ever." His eyes well with tears and he tries in vain to blink them away.
There's no hesitation. "Then stay forever. You're almost eighteen anyway. Just wait."
"Dad will come get me."
"And we'll stop him."
JJ's face screws up and tears spill over his waterline. John B wipes his tears away. "It's okay, bubba. We're staying."
Kiara intertwines her fingers with his, Sarah rests a hand on his shoulder and they all hold him.
"You can stay with me." John B smiles softly. "Stay forever."