Work Text
“Ward?” Sarah called out from below the staircase. “Can you give me a ride to work?”Rafe -- Sarah’s new douchey step-brother -- sneered from around the corner, “Just quit. You're not poor anymore.”“You’re not a kid anymore,” she snapped at the freshly 19-year-old man. “Move out.”Of course it was at this moment that Ward chose to descend the stairs. “Sarah. Be nice.”“Yeah watch your mouth before Dad realizes you have even less right to be here than I do.” Rafe got this proud expression on his face, like he thought he was so clever and witty for that comeback. Sarah rolled her eyes which she regretted because of what it made him say next.“Go be with your mom if you hate it here so much.”Sarah’s mouth dropped open. She looked over to her ‘father’ hoping for some sort of defense but Ward remained silent. “You gonna do anything about your son? You gonna parent him? Like, at all?” Sarah laughed, she felt a little bit like a bitch but that’s what Rafe gets for bringing up her mom.“Sarah,” Ward warned. “Why don’t you get in the car now.” It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was a command.“Unbelievable.”--------Sarah hadn’t said a word since they started driving, waiting for Ward to break the silence. Spoiler alert: he never did. So, Sarah flicked her hair and stared him up and down as he drove. “You loved her at one point. Why didn’t you stick up for her?”Ward sighed, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. He probably thought Sarah didn’t notice but that just proves he knows nothing about his ‘daughter’, especially not her incredibly perceptive nature. “I thought we agreed there would be no talk of your mother while you stayed here.”Sarah laughed, not because anything Ward said was funny per se, but just because this grown-ass man was being so fucking petty and ridiculous. “Well,” she said, “she was my mom, so I’m gonna think about her and probably talk about her. It was unrealistic of you to think otherwise.”“It’s unrealistic of you to think I would be okay with you mentioning her,” Ward retorted, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter.“What did she ever do to you?” Ward’s speed increased. Like, by a lot. Sarah couldn’t fully see the speedometer from the passenger seat but she was pretty sure it read 67mph. They were driving 67 in a 35. “That’s none of your business.”Panic was starting to settle in for Sarah, unable to pry her eyes away from the dozens of cars they flew by every second. “What are you, twelve? Grow the fuck up,” she shouted.That was evidently the wrong thing to say because Ward immediately diverted his path and swerved off the pavement. Sarah could smell the burning rubber as they screeched to a halt along the side of the road. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sarah didn’t give a shit about respect or any of that bullshit she ‘owed’ her ‘father’. Her father was not supposed to endanger her life.“You can walk to work from now on,” was the brilliant response Ward came up with.Sarah’s hysteria took over and she started wheezing laughing, her breath cutting in and out in heavy bursts. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”--------“You’re late.”Sarah had barely even set a single foot through the door before her boss had called her out. The woman hadn’t even turned her head.“Sorry Nina, hectic drive here.” Sarah practically leaped over a counter in her haste to reach her boss. Nina brushed her off, as she always did when Sarah was late. Maybe she had a soft spot for her? Sarah hoped that was the case, she needed someone on her side in this shithole. Literally, she’d take anyone at this point.“I take it you ran into the accident a few blocks back?”Sarah tensed, staring into the vastness of her backpack. She shielded her face from Nina’s view with her locker door and muttered, “You could say that.”Nina clicked her tongue, almost in sync with the click of Sarah’s locker closing. “Well I’m glad you’re here now.”Sarah smiled. “Aw, I missed you too.” She hopped up and sat on the counter next to where Nina was fiddling with the register. Nina frowned. “Get down.”Sarah immediately dropped her feet to the floor and matched her boss’ expression with her own exaggerated frown.“Good. As I was saying, I’m glad you’re here because I need to run out for the rest of the evening. Now, I know it’s only you here tonight but do you think you can handle closing? If not, I can try to get back before eight.”Nina didn’t often take time off work, she needed the money for her son’s college tuition. Apparently he was some super genius who was set to get this full ride scholarship to his dream university, but Nina said you can never go wrong with a backup plan. Supposedly, he was only a year younger than Sarah but she suspected if he was as smart as his mother claimed, he’d be in most of her classes or classes higher than her. She hoped that when school started in a few weeks she’d be able to find this Heyward kid so she could at least have one friend on this godawful island. They’d probably hit it off based solely on the fact that they both seem desperate to get the hell out of here.“Nina, please. Have a little faith. I can handle it, promise.” Sarah stuck out her pinky finger to seal her promise but dropped it after a few seconds of a blank stare from Nina.“Don’t break everything, please,” Nina said as she pulled on her jacket.Raising two fingers to her forehead, Sarah gave a quick salute. “I will try my best!”--------Working at a jewelry store was pretty boring this time of year. August was a hectic month already without the added pressure of proposing to someone, so any customers who came in while Sarah was working would be rich trophy wives trying to find joy in shiny objects. She knew first hand that this assumption was accurate, after all, she’d seen Ward’s wife, Rose, in here many, many, many times.She also visited the liquor store a lot though Sarah was not supposed to know that.The afternoon was slow, slower than usual. It was a nice day out, people tended to be less likely to splurge on useless overpriced jewelry when it was nice out. Something about naturally produced dopamine? Sarah couldn’t quite remember what the reason was, Nina had mentioned a project her son did once and that was pretty much all she could remember about his theory.Slow days meant two things: hour-long gossip sessions with Nina, or hours of listening to music that she’s ordinarily not allowed to play over the speakers. Nothing was allowed except soft jazz which was fine at the beginning of summer when Sarah was revisiting her La La Land phase, but she was over all that noise now.She flicked on some new R&B album that only slightly reminded Sarah of her ex-girlfriend, Kiara. Kie hadn’t wanted to break up but it was impossible to stay together due to the other wonderful detail Sarah had neglected to mention: the Outer Banks was like, a really fucking homophobic place to live. She was pretty sure there wasn’t one single openly queer kid on the island, so keeping her girlfriend a secret would be pretty fucking important. And sure, lots of couples do long distance but this new situation they would’ve had to deal with was way too stressful for Sarah to deal with right now, especially on top of everything else.Her closeted nature however, didn’t stop her from pulling open Instagram and scrolling through Kie’s account. Sarah was the only person in the store so she figured, what could go wrong? What went wrong was this: Kiara had a new girlfriend. It had only been two months since they broke off their year long relationship and she was already dating someone else.The rest of the evening moved slowly, Sarah having decided to change her music to something a little less bitter and a little more sweet. Finally though, it was 7:40pm, which meant she could start closing the shop. Sarah Cameron did everything in mental steps, it just worked better in her brain. Step one was to wipe down all the glass displays, starting with the necklaces, then the watches, then the bracelets, then the earrings and finally the rings. She had to wipe down the silver displays first and gold second because… well she wasn’t quite sure why but she couldn’t fathom doing it any other way.Step two was to double check all the display locks. Each cabinet had two locks, a digital one that required a four-digit code, and a standard padlock. She would check the padlock first, then reset the passcode for the digital lock. Nina said to change the password every night, though they only rotated through three different codes so really it wasn’t all that theft-proof. Today's code was 8230.Step three was to--Never mind, the front entrance chimed. Sarah had customers now which was fine, it was her job to serve them, but it meant she would have to start over from step one.She stuffed the ring of keys back into her pocket and turned to face the customers. As shitty as Sarah’s day had been, she was not expecting to be met face to face with a gun fifteen minutes before her shift ended.Three men, all dressed in black with matching black gloves and masks towered over her.“Don’t. Move.” Sarah was pretty sure the smallest man -- the one pointing the gun at her -- was the one who had spoken. “Wasn’t planning on it,” she said, her voice small and scared. The truth is, until the robber had told her to stay still Sarah had been completely unmoving. Now though, despite the fact that there was a pistol only inches from her head, the only thing she could think about was how she couldn’t move. Her arms itched and she could swear her feet were somehow falling asleep. Spiders crawled all across her skin, except not really since Nina was very careful to keep any bugs out of the store.Sarah supposed she hadn’t done a great job of keeping still because the man was suddenly repeating himself, though his voice lacked the force from before.One of the bigger men, actually, the biggest man, stepped out from behind the gun-wielder. “Keys,” he said, in about as many words as Sarah had expected from some back-alley thug. Despite her orders to stay unmoving, Sarah reached into her back pocket only stopping when she heard the sound of a bullet being chambered. “Hands up,” the biggest man ordered, slinking around the counter to stand behind Sarah. In one not so quick motion, the man had stuck his hand down the back pocket of her jeans and grabbed the keys, taking a quick pit stop to grope her ass. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Sarah said, remaining as still as she could with this newfound desire to beat that guy to shit. Her stillness was mostly a product of the fact that she knew she couldn’t win a fight against this guy, his size evidently a product of muscle mass as he had most definitely managed to leave a bruise where he had squeezed her.The man smiled and spoke not to her this time, but to the third man who hadn’t said one single word yet. “I always liked them bratty,” he hummed and Sarah felt her stomach drop. Sarah didn’t know what to do. She knew men like this would take anything they wanted -- as shown by the fact they were actively participating in an armed robbery -- and she did not want to be their next target.She silently prayed that someone would come and save her from these men, but she knew that was unlikely. Even Ward wouldn’t show up to take her home, she had no one. She’d have to save herself.The silent man had made his way to the first display and had apparently unlocked the padlock because he finally spoke, his voice deeper and smoother than the others. “M, I need a code.”The biggest man named M, apparently, stomped over to where he was crouched in front of the silver display of necklaces. They’d chosen the single most expensive display in the store, necklaces studded with diamonds and crafted with white gold. The cheapest necklace there was still valued at 1200$. Sarah remembered that number in particular because she had thought it was batshit crazy to sell anything for that expensive, but people still bought all their jewelry here so clearly Nina was doing something right. “Code,” M ordered, snapping Sarah out of her trance. She hesitated. The digital locks were made with a built in alarm that would notify the police. If she could only managed to-- “Now, bitch. Haven’t got all night.”“Right, sorry.” Sarah took a deep breath, it was now or never. “Can I, um, type it in?” She asked, taking a tentative step towards the men.The smallest man spoke again, though his voice had once again lost its strength. “Don’t fucking move,” he said.“Fine, fine, I just…”M shot to his feet and barelled towards her. “What don’t you understand about ‘now bitch’? Give me the fucking code.” M raised his hands and clasped them tight around her shoulders, shoving her backwards into the corner of the register.Then, the silent man spoke, saying the exact words Sarah had hoped to hear. “M, the machine timed out.” “You can just try again,” Sarah said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. Behind his mask, Sarah was sure M was livid. “The code is 4202.”That was true. She hadn’t managed to change that code yet so it was still the old one from today's shift. In seconds the lid of the display was thrown to the ground, M and the silent man rapidly filling two black bags with as many necklaces as they could hold. They quickly moved around the store hitting display case after display case until glass shards covered the entire floor.Then, a siren.When the digital locks time out, a signal is immediately sent to the police as a defense mechanism. Sarah’s plan had worked and she couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a bad bitch.“What did you do?” The smallest man asked when a small grin sneaked across Sarah’s lips. His hand was shaking, only slightly but Sarah was genuinely worried he would accidentally shoot her with all his trembling.“What did you expect me to do?” Sarah retorted. The man didn’t say anything else, maybe because he knew she was right.“Hey, we’re splitting,” M shouted as he ran out the door side by side with the silent giant.The smallest, strange-acting man hesitated before he turned towards the door. He didn’t make any move to leave though. In fact, he actually turned around again, facing Sarah but this time without a gun.In one quick motion he had whipped off his mask and--It was like looking in a mirror.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You took off your mask? You weren’t even out the door and you took off your mask?”Mick’s hands were shoving him into the ground before he could even finish processing the words. JJ spit, a handful of dirt and blood mixing on his hand from where his chin hit the roots of a tree. “She didn’t see me,” JJ muttered, brushing his hands into his shorts leaving a dark red stain by the seam.Mick stepped towards him and JJ didn’t mean to flinch but, well, when a violent drug dealer gets angry, it’s fair to be a little on edge. “Oh, she didn’t see you? I didn’t realize,” Mick laughed, a hollow sound, and crouched down to stare eye to eye with JJ. “What about security cameras retard?”“There weren’t any.”JJ flicked his eyes downwards, avoiding Mick’s harsh stare as he asked, “Really, you sure about that one?”“I- I didn’t see any,” JJ said, his uncertainty showing through his words. The second he stuttered he knew he’d fucked up, so he clenched his jaw an braced himself for--
Crack
Mick’s foot crashed down on his back, sending JJ’s chin right back into the root. He could taste the blood pooling in his mouth and it made his stomach turn. He wanted to spit it out but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, that was the rule. When Mick punished him, JJ had to shut up and take whatever was dealt to him.A few more blows landed along his ribs and stomach, but Mick seemed to be avoiding his head, so he wasn’t too mad. Yet.“Cal, get him up. We’re bringing him back to his daddy.”Never mind, Mick was mad. Very mad.Or very high. Either way, it meant bad things were in store for JJ.————JJ’s house was on the far side of the cut, the side with the least money and the most crime, naturally. A little side street housing him, his father, and all his dad’s cronies. There was no escape besides school and it was still the middle of August so that was not an option. The stairs leading to JJ’s lovely home were pretty much what you would expect from a glorified crack den: crumbling and moldy, bordering on unusable. The rest of his house matched, except the front door. The front door had an industrial lock installed a few months back after a raid from a group on the other side of the cut. It was just a fun bonus that it prevented the stray crackhead and cop from busting in during all hours of the night. JJ didn’t know how to unlock it, Luke had neglected to tell him and JJ was too scared to ask. Backing up to the edge of the front porch, or at least as far as Cal would let him before putting his hands up. He hated the feeling of his grimy hands crushing his shoulders but JJ wanted as far away from Mick as possible. See, Mick wasn’t very good at opening the new lock, which wouldn’t really be a problem -- JJ often had to try his lock multiple times at school before getting it right -- except for the fact that Mick had a slight anger problem. As did most of the guys he ran with.Mick’s first failed attempt came with his regular slam against the door. There were still faint cracks from his past temper tantrums but the door refused to give way. A second attempt with no luck would mean Mick would graduate from inanimate objects and take his anger out on a human, which would likely be JJ.Squeezing his eyes shut, JJ tried to ignore the faint buzzing coming from the lock, indicating a failed attempt. He knew the blow would be coming any second and--“Yer back early, ain’t ya?”--------Luke Maybank was quite possibly the biggest son-of-a-bitch on the entire island. That wasn’t JJ’s opinion but that’s what he was often told, occasionally by his dad himself and his groupies, who acted proud of that fact. Aside from the whole drug dealing, thieving, violent madness his father often initiated, JJ thought he was a pretty good guy. Like, okay, there was definitely some things he would change about his dad given the chance, but he still loved the guy. Luke was nothing like Mick or Barry. Both those fuckers seemed to enjoy targeting JJ, specifically Barry. JJ was grateful he was locked up right now after what he’d pulled during the hold up today. Cal pushed JJ through the door, and shoved him down onto the worn couch so harshly that the couch itself slid across the floor with a deafening screech. “Your kid fucked up th--”“Shh, quiet boys.” Both men fell silent instantly. “Y’know wha’s great about this situation we got goin’ on?” Luke tipped his beer to his mouth as he fell back onto the couch besides JJ who was nursing the bruise on his chin. Luke caught sight of the gash and frowned. “W’all respect each other. So, when you accuse my kid of fuckin’ somethin’ up, yer insulting me.”Luke raised his fingers to JJ’s jaw and tilted his head to better view the cut. JJ wasn’t sure what he had on his hands, something narcotic probably, but the touch on his raw flesh burned like hell. He had to bite his lip to keep from hissing in pain.“Now I thought we agreed if ‘e needs punishing you’d leave it t’me? Ain't that right Michael?”Mick faltered, he was just as scared of Luke as JJ was of him. “Well, I mean--”Luke’s head snapped towards Mick. “Ain’t that right?” He repeated, voice stronger, almost reaching a yell.Mick dropped his gaze to the ground. “Yes sir,” he said.Luke smiled and relaxed back into the couch, lifting an arm and wrapping it around JJ’s shoulders. “Good. Now y’all get gone’. Big week comin’ up.”Mick nodded, still avoiding Luke’s burning stare and all but bolting it towards the door. “Michael,” Luke called out, causing the burly man to stop in his tracks. “Run into m’office an’ grab the box for JJ, ‘e needs somethin’ to take the edge off.”A deep seated panic set in, he had only seconds to stop this. “Dad, dad,” he said, feigning some morbid sense of serenity. “I’m feeling fine, it doesn’t even hurt. I don’t need you to waste anything on me,” JJ insisted, but Luke shook his head.“Nonsense boy, you did good t’day, deserve a goodnight’s sleep.”He couldn’t give up. Not this early. “Dad--”“Quiet.”Luke’s voice was sharp, snapping on and off within a millisecond. Mick returned from Luke’s office, clutching a small wooden box tightly so as not to drop it. Nodding a small show of gratitude, Luke took the box from him as he and Cal finally left for the weekend. “Ain’t got nothin’ ta worry about now, boy.” Luke’s voice was soft, quiet, not quite comforting but something close to it. JJ could feel his surroundings becoming less and less real though Luke hadn’t even opened the box yet. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was, he just knew it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Maybe he was about to pass out? Who knows. JJ didn’t care anymore, Luke had opened the box. Inside was a lot of stuff JJ wasn’t allowed to touch. The first thing Luke pulled out was a rubber strip which he tied around JJ’s bicep so tightly that JJ could swear he lost all feeling in his fingertips.JJ looked away from the box. He knew what would happen in a few minutes. He heard the flick of the lighter. He felt the pinch of the needle.He felt his father pulling him closer to his chest as he lost the strength to keep himself upright. Things felt okay.His last thought before slipping out of consciousness was the girl from earlier, the one who shared his face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sarah Cameron hadn’t expected her night to end with a free ride home in the passenger seat of a cop car, but to be fair, she hadn’t expected one single part of this day to go the way it did. For the entire drive home, she ignored the cop’s small talk, he didn’t seem to mind, likely assuming she was just traumatized from being held at gunpoint. A lot of people assumed her silence was a product of trauma but it really wasn’t, sometimes she just didn’t feel like talking, didn’t matter who it was to.Currently though, her silence was because of how lost in thought she was.Who was that guy from earlier and why did he look just like her?Well, he looked just like her in the sense that he had her light blonde hair, though his was a little faded and way thinner, and they had the same eyes, aside from colour that is, though Sarah’s had been a similar ocean blue when she was younger.Those eyes -- his eyes -- haunted her. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t look high, he didn’t look anything like she’d pictured because painted across his eyes was something quite unexpected from a gun-wielding maniac: pure unfiltered fear. He was fucking terrified.And to make matters worse, he wasn’t some lanky junkie like she’d thought, he was a kid.At most, Sarah thought he could be seventeen though he looked older. She attributed most of her suspicion to his hollow cheeks which made their shared bone structure stick out far more on him than Sarah had ever seen on herself. He looked like he’d lived a million lives and fought tooth and nail through them all, but through his eyes, Sarah knew he’d finally grown tired. The fear in his glistening eyes was a desperate last attempt at a call for help only a child would still believe in.She had to figure out who he was. Ideally, she’d figure that out without iron bars separating them, so when the police asked her how many thieves there were, she only described the two giants.Whoever this boy was, he was not doing anything willingly, Sarah knew that much.--------Upon arriving home just past ten, Ward and Rose had interrogated her for hours, unable to believe that she was innocent in this whole situation. Sarah pointed out that her mother would’ve believed her, which did not help her case one single bit.Within the hour she was locked in her room.Not that she cared really, she preferred being locked behind four walls as opposed to having to face her ‘family’s’ constant criticism. Rose would say how weird she was. How she wasn’t like normal teenage girls, whatever that meant. Kiara had thought she was weird too, but not in the way that made Sarah stay up late and night and wish to be different. Kiara made her feel… real, if that makes sense. She didn’t tell Sarah to stop with her mental checklists, didn’t tell her to talk when she wasn’t feeling up to it, she didn’t make her feel wrong. Ward and Rose made her feel wrong. Like she was the problem child when her stepbrother actively tortured animals on the weekend. It didn’t make sense to her but not much about her new life did.She missed Kiara.She missed her mother.She missed her old life, everything was so much simpler than she’d ever realized.In her old life she never had a gun-wielding stranger rip off his mask and have his face freak her out more than the pistol ever had.--------All night, she tossed and turned. Despite the exhaustion creeping through her veins, she couldn’t fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him and his eyes looking back at her, begging for help. She should’ve done something.But what could she have done? She was only sixteen years old dammit, she wasn’t trained for any of this.She needed some sort of explanation. If her mom was here she could just simply ask if she had a secret estranged cousin living in North Carolina, but with Ward, things were much more difficult. The man was jaded and suspicious of everything Sarah did, she didn’t need to make that worse. So, when out of real-life options, Sarah turned to the site deemed best for digital stalking: Instagram. She closed out of Kie’s account, shielding her eyes from her new posts and scrolled through as many OBX-owned accounts as she could find. She actually landed across Nina’s son’s account, which was a funny coincidence, but his account was private so she had no luck there. Shooting off a quick follow request, Sarah continued her search elsewhere. Some kid named Topper -- that had to be a nickname -- had a public account. His bio said he went to her new high school and he had hundreds of posts. Sarah scrolled further through his account but quickly grew disappointed. Out of the 216 posts this Topper had, Sarah was willing to guess at least 190 of them were pictures of himself. Either himself with some new fancy car that likely came from daddy’s money, a shirtless gym picture, a selfie that was actually clearly being used as an opportunity to show off his designer sunglasses, or a picture of him at some party. Sarah scrolled through picture after picture, focusing specifically on the party ones since even though the focus was this douchebag, there were other people in the background. With every post, Sarah grew more and more disgusted with the way this guy had his arm around a different girl in almost every single picture. She hoped her gang-running doppelganger wouldn’t willingly associate with this kind of creep and closed out the app, all motivation to continue her search having faded.Maybe she could get on her step-sibling's good sides and see if they knew anything about him. Rafe was a more likely suspect than Louisa as she was only thirteen at the moment, though Sarah infinitely preferred her new step-sister and therefore the idea of befriending her seemed much less vomit-inducing. Louisa wasn’t cruel to her. She wasn’t anything close to it. The girl actually seemed excited at the idea of having a sister and seemed to carry the same disdain for the rest of the family as Sarah did. But again, she was thirteen so she wasn’t likely to know much about this boy.--------Sarah hadn't meant to fall asleep, she wasn't even sure when it had happened but suddenly the golden morning light was filtering through her blinds. She sat up in bed, twisting her head back and forth in an attempt to fix the kink in her neck from the odd angle in which she had fallen asleep. Exhaustion still flooded her body but she knew she couldn't sneak any extra minutes of because any second --"Sarah, out of bed! It's almost seven!"Rose was screeching out to her from the bottom of the stairs. Sarah wasn't quite sure why or how this had even happened, but somehow she had been given the role of making breakfast for everyone not once or twice, but every, single, day.Running a hand through her hair Sarah shouted back a quick, "Coming!" and resigned herself to yet another miserable morning.When she arrived down the steps her father sat opposite to Rose, arms folded and sipping coffee periodically. "Someone slept in," Ward said, voice monotone as ever."Yeah well," Sarah sighed as she grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge. "I had a late night.""That's no excuse. You're sixteen years old now. You have responsibilities."Sarah froze, nearly dropping the eggs with how rigid her body became. "So there's no exception for being held at gun--""There's no exceptions in the real world."It was impossible to contain the mirthless laugh that ripped from Sarah's throat. She watched as this man, her supposed father, sipped his coffee like he was being completely reasonable. "For being held at gunpoint? Yeah actually, there usually are exceptions in that case."Ward placed his mug on the table with a loud clink that almost made Sarah jump. "You don't get to just blow off your responsibilities because you don't feel like helping out my family."My family. Not our. Not your. My family. Sarah was not included in his idea of family. Good to know."Fuck this," Sarah muttered and dropped the eggs right in the middle of the kitchen floor. She stepped over them and headed out the door, not bothering to put on shoes or even real clothes. The legs of her pyjama pants were just long enough to cover her heels when she walked, but she could feel the mud seeping through the fabric and she was not a fan. So once, then twice, then a third time, she rolled her pants legs up to meet her knees. Dressed like a newly-awoken comatose patient, Sarah headed into the city, ignoring the stares from all the judgmental bitches and focusing instead on the steady stream of people passing right by stores and restaurants, no concern apparent in any of their faces. They weren't worried about a robbery, or about being caught in the middle of a crime scene, only Sarah looked over her shoulder after every other step.For most of the island, it was like last night hadn't even happened.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
JJ wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up alone on his couch. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and despite his best efforts to avoid looking at it, he could already see the deep bruise forming on his arm.
Even worse than that was the presence of a small voice in the back of his mind. This voice tried to persuade him into asking his father for more. When the idea of begging for drugs became too humiliating, it tried to trick him into stealing from his father, a plan which would ultimately end in his untimely demise.
JJ sat up, his head momentarily rushing from the sudden movement. He didn’t see his father though that didn’t mean he wasn’t near, so he bit his lip to quiet the whimper rising in his throat.
Slowly, JJ rose to his feet, making his way to the kitchen one sluggish step at a time. His father wasn’t in the kitchen either and though he felt guilty about doing so, JJ couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
Glancing over his shoulders much too often to be considered anything but psychotic, he rummaged through cupboard after cupboard, through the long-powerless fridge, for something to eat. His stomach rumbled with every movement and something deep inside him knew that this search would ultimately be fruitless… literally. Maybe JJ was still a little high, he couldn’t stop the quick breathy laugh that escaped with his joke.
Actually scratch that, he probably wasn’t high, just delirious.
JJ quickly grew tired of standing and slumped to the ground, resting his throbbing head against the warm fridge door. He was likely concussed but it’s not like he could go to the hospital so there was no sense in complaining. Besides, if he was still able to walk then clearly he hadn’t been knocked around too badly, this was nothing compared to when Barry was around.
Barry was like if you took Mick and gave him severe erectile dysfunction -- which was a weird comparison to make considering JJ unfortunately knew first hand that that was not the case with Barry -- but there was a constant anger to both of them that really just made it feel like they were each overcompensating for something going wrong down there.
Nine months ago Barry was arrested for involuntary manslaughter which was so far from the truth of what had actually happened that day, that JJ found it laughable. He actually laughed about it once, in front of Mick. He never made that mistake again.
JJ knew he could get out on parole as early as last month, but evidently that hadn't happened.
His dad’s gang was suffering without their biggest dealer. It wasn’t only Barry’s high-status clients that they were missing -- clients with the likes of the rich-ass Camerons up in Figure Eight -- they were missing their force of intimidation over every other gang in Kildare.
See, everyone, literally everyone, on the island was scared of Barry, but JJ was probably the most terrified.
He went to bed every night feeling
his
hands around his throat, pinning him down. He went to bed every night praying he’d get killed in prison, which was the darkest thought JJ had ever experienced through his own mind.
In another life, JJ would be able to tell his father what Barry did and that fucker would pay, but in this life, if his father knew what Barry did, he could draw the wrong conclusion.
He could think JJ was the faggot in this equation which was decidedly
not true
. Barry was the one who--
The front door slammed shut, shattering the daydream in JJ’s mind. Either the cops had just busted in guns blazing and were coming to take him down, or his father was home.
JJ wasn’t sure what option was worse.
JJ wiped his face, hands sliding over the slick tracks from his tears that he didn’t remember letting fall. He prayed his face looked normal enough so when his dad saw him he wouldn’t know he’d been crying, though he didn’t have a mirror so he just had to leave it up to the universe to decide his fate.
He could hear the thuds of his fathers uneven footsteps getting louder and louder then--
“What the hell you doin’ down there boy?”
--------
JJ wasn’t sure what had happened but these past two days Luke had been in a remarkably good mood. Towards him at least, he couldn’t speak on his dad’s behavior towards Mick and Cal. Luke had left early in the morning to do some grocery shopping. JJ couldn’t remember the last time that happened.
He had picked up this cereal that JJ personally found much too sugary but he'd have to be clinically insane to complain about free breakfast. They didn’t have milk or anything but Luke had handed him a beer which JJ was hesitant to drink at first but ultimately decided to just say fuck it. He wasn’t about to ruin his dad’s good mood by sticking his nose up at his generosity.
The two ate in silence, JJ careful to chew in small bites, just in case his dad changed his mind about his peaceful mood and JJ ended up vomiting blood into the toilet again. Throwing up anything crunchy or big hurt like a bitch and JJ was trying to avoid causing himself any more pain.
“Mick’ounted up t’total haul from las’ night,” Luke said, between swigs of beer.
JJ froze. He was sure they’d pulled a lot but his memories could be failing him. It might not have been enough for Luke to be satisfied. Not to say that his father had overly high expectations or anything but he did demand a bare minimum of six figures, which was fair because he did so much for them all, JJ in particular.
“Is that right?” JJ asked, staring down at his spoon with a churning stomach. He had a sinking feeling that this display of niceties Luke had showered him with was all a ruse. Some sick trick to lure him into a false sense of security. JJ was almost positive this cereal was laced.
“How much we get then?”
“Little over ‘undred fifty K.” Luke stared at him expectantly, watching as his spoon circled the bowl over and over showing no sign of lifting to his lips. “Not hungry?” He asked after a beat of silence.
JJ swallowed a thick lump in his throat. “No, no,” he assured his father. “I am hungry, and this is really good, and everything I’m just--”
JJ berated himself for not thinking of his excuse beforehand, especially because without careful monitoring, he had very little control over his own words.
“The girl who worked there,” he started, completely unsure of where he was going with this, “Is she okay?”
Luke didn’t speak. He didn’t move and JJ began to realize that his question had been the wrong thing to ask.
“It’s just, she was a kid, you know? And- and, I feel bad ‘cause she seemed scared and--”
“She seemed scared?” Luke repeated, eyes narrowing.
JJ’s hand trembled so hard he had to drop his spoon for fear of sending his bowl clattering to the floor. “Well, yeah.”
“And you,” Luke paused and took a deep, spine chilling breath. JJ could hear the rasp to his voice with the deep inhale and exhale. “You feel bad.” His father’s words were slow and deliberate, as if he couldn’t quite fathom how JJ felt this way.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, losing all confidence in one fell swoop. “She was a kid. Probably my age.”
Luke didn’t speak. He just rose to his feet and stepped closer to JJ.
“Did you fuck her?”
JJ froze. “No. No, Dad I didn’t.”
Closer and closer Luke moved, his shadow wrapping JJ in darkness. “You fucked her,” he said, like JJ hadn’t just told him that wasn’t the case.
“I didn’t.”
“Then
why
,” his father crouched down to stare eye to eye with him. “Do you care so much?”
Maybe it was fear that overtook JJ's control of his voice because he was far too experienced with Luke's anger to think anything he said next was smart.
“Because I don’t like hurting people!”
--------
The number one rule to follow when interacting with Luke Maybank is that one does not, under any circumstances, yell at him.
JJ had never broken that rule.
Until today.
JJ shot to his feet, knowing exactly what was coming for him and bolted out the door. He hadn’t even changed his clothes from the sweat soaked t-shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in but he couldn’t find the energy to care. The only thing that mattered was to keep running.
He couldn’t look behind him, couldn’t check to see just how close Luke was to catching him, he just had to save himself.
So he ran like his life depended on it because, well, it did.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was only moments after sunrise when Sarah Cameron had left the house. It was now sunset, the dusk was already beginning to settle in, though she had no plans to return home.
Her feet were raw and bleeding. They had gone numb hours ago, the uneven roads she walked scraping and bruising every inch of bare skin.
She was hungry. Through she walked past store after store, restaurant after restaurant, she hadn’t brought money with her and was suddenly more opposed to stealing than ever before.
She suspected because of the incident from the night before.
Sarah wondered how her life ended up like this though she already knew the answer.
Her mother died.
It was months ago now, her mom having passed in late May. The medical examiners said it was a heart attack which she supposed was possible though every day she grew more suspicious that that was not what killed her.
The past 30-odd hours specifically, caused her uncertainty. Suddenly, her life was much more complicated, much darker with seemingly no reason.
Sarah suspected her mother had been poisoned. With what, why, or by whom, she had no idea.
If these were ordinary times, Sarah would just pop in to the jewelry store and seek out Nina, though this day was far from ordinary. The jewelry store was still closed after the break in, and Nina was at home. If Sarah knew where her island mom lived, she would be at her house in an instant.
Unfortunately, even if Sarah knew where Nina lived, what then? Sarah had no reason to believe the woman would want her hanging around uninvited.
She walked down the winding roads of the city she didn’t know. This wasn’t her home.
It was a strange place filled with danger. She passed several people she should’ve known by now, but clung to the shadows, hiding from them.
She managed to find herself in front of what looks like more forest but a second and closer look revealed a secluded section of the beach. Maybe it was a bad idea considering the open wounds littering the soles of her feet, but Sarah stepped on to the sand. It was still warm from the bright sunny day they’d been given.
Given the darkness that now enveloped her and everything she could see, Sarah wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at. She suspected this secret beach of being only a few yards away and decided that maybe a walk on the beach was exactly what she needed right now.
It wasn’t long before Sarah had passed through the tapestry of leaves and branches and found herself in a clearing revealing the fine white sand. The moon had began to rise in the sky, its light reflecting off the swirling ocean. The water seemed far too rocky to actually swim in, which might explain the emptiness she found herself surrounded with. Save for the mild crashing of the waves, it was quiet.
Sarah needed quiet.
She cautiously made her way down towards the shoreline, watching the ground for broken bottles, shells, or the stray jellyfish that wound up on shore.
Then—
A crack came from somewhere in the trees behind her. Her head whipped around and she stood fists up in defence, the way she’d seen in movies.
“Who’s there?” She yelled, hoping the tremble in her voice wasn’t too obvious.
No response came though to be fair why would a stalker reveal themselves?
“I’m serious, I know you’re back there!”
She stepped forward towards the sound, determined to catch the stalker red handed. Then, she thought about the darkness that surrounded her. The darkness in which anything could hide.
Whoever this was would have no way of knowing she was lying so, another step forward followed by a shout of, “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” A split second passed before she added, “Bitch!” just for good measure.
Silence.
Or, that’s what she thought at first. A few seconds more and she would’ve thought she’d imagined the noise completely. A small, pitiful whimper reached her ears, carried to her on the gentle breeze. If she hadn’t heard the faint sound of the shaking breathing coming from behind a tree, she probably would’ve left the beach entirely.
“Five seconds and I start shooting—“
“Okay, okay, don’t shoot. Please.”
The voice was small, scared, trembling.
The body that jumped out from its hiding spot was just as small.
“I wasn’t trying to—“ the voice cut itself off abruptly. “You don’t have a gun.”
Sarah froze. Now how the fuck did he know that, she could barely see shit in this darkness. “Yes I do,” she insisted.
The figure shook his head, taking a tentative step forwards. “I can see your hands, you don’t have a gun.”
“Yes I do. I’m holding it right now, see?” Sarah pointed her fingers in a mock gun shape, it was a pathetic move but maybe the darkness would work in her favour.
“That’s literally your hand.”
Okay, so it didn’t work in her favour.
From the shadows, the figure finally emerged and in the pale moonlight Sarah could see that this figure wasn’t some rando… it was the boy from last night.
Seconds passed in stunned silence before Sarah squawked, “What the hell are you doing here?”
The doppelgänger apparently matched her in not only looks but thoughts because he spoke the same words nearly the exact same moment Sarah did.
“I- I, go here,” the boy said.
“You go here?” Sarah repeated, a hysterical laugh emerging from her throat without her permission. “This isn’t some fucking elementary school, that doesn’t make any sense.”
The boy dropped his gaze. He stood much smaller than he did during the robbery, Sarah was almost looking down on him. “I didn’t know anyone else hung out here,” he said. “I- I can leave.”
“Don’t.”
Sarah didn’t mean to sound so harsh with her words, but the way the boy flinched make her heart hurt. Maybe it was the array of bruises covering every inch of his visible skin, or maybe it was the moonlight that made him look more childlike than ever, but Sarah held up her hands, opening herself up to be completely vulnerable.
“Hey, hey,” she said, voice slow, soft, and quiet as if she were attempting to corral some beaten animal, because to be honest, she kind of was.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
The boy didn’t move, he was still frozen in place.
“Do you remember me?” Sarah asked, which earned her a nod so quick she’d have missed it if she had blinked.
“Okay, I remember you too.”
“No shit,” he said, his body letting go of its tension for a second before snapping back into place. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Sarah assured him. Relief was written all over his eyes but it was like he didn’t dare to show it on his face.
Sarah wanted to badger him with question after question— “Why do you look more like my brother than my actual brother?” and, “Who beat the shit out of you in the few hours we didn’t see each other?” or even, “Who are you?”—but this kid was a flight risk and she couldn’t risk him bolting before she got her answers.
The responsibility of breaking the silence was released from her shoulder when, after yet another minute of tense silence, the boy spoke. “You’re bleeding,” he said.
Sarah looked down to where he was pointing and saw that he was telling the truth, despite already knowing that was the case. “Why were you looking at my feet?” She asked, voice a lot steadier than you’d expect from someone like her in a situation like this.
“Because there’s blood coming out of them?” He phrased it like a question though Sarah had no intent on answering. The boy remained still for a second before crouching down and pulling out a lighter.
“Dude? What the fuck?” Sarah lunged backwards away from the flame that he held just above her ankles.
The boy rolled his eyes so far back in his head that Sarah could see his every motion despite the darkness.
“I need a light, shit,” he exasperated, bending two fingers in a ‘come here,’ gesture.
Sarah didn’t know why she obeyed.
“Lift,” he ordered and suddenly Sarah was standing on one leg. His unoccupied hand reached out to interlock with hers, hopefully to steady the teetering of her body, though Sarah refused his gesture.
“Switch legs.”
Sarah watched through the orange glow of the flame, as he furrowed his brow and rifled through the pockets of his backpack and pulled out a thick bag overflowing with gauze and antibiotics.
“Head down t’wards the shore, will you? Sand’s not as deep there, it’ll be easier to clean this up.”
Sarah didn’t move. “I don’t need your help,” she said.
The boy sighed. “You do if you want to be able to walk ever again.”
So that’s how Sarah found herself sitting criss-cross in front of the same boy who held a gun to her head just twenty-four hours prior. Two clicks of his lighter and the small fire pit he’d set up earlier, caught ablaze.
Finally, Sarah could see each and every detail of his face, without the mask of shadows or fear. She could see the blackened slope of what she was sure was his now-broken nose. She could see the heavy bags under his eyes and the exhaustion within them.
The boy’s hands were a lot gentler than she’d expected. He wrapped the gauze around her feet with an expertise that scared her. His fingers were delicate when he cleaned the sand and grime from her scrapes. If Sarah so much as hissed a small whine of pain, apologies would spew out of his mouth. About ten times per minute he’d ask, “You okay?” It was kind of getting annoying.
Annoying in an endearing sense, she decided, after all, this is all she’d wanted all summer, someone who cared.
Naive as it may be, Sarah really believed that this virtual stranger could actually care for her. The way he spoke, the softness to his movements and words were enough to convince her she was right.
The boy pressed the final gauze pad to her heel and Sarah let out a sigh of relief. Amazingly, clean-not-infected cuts hurt a lot less than dirty-infected ones—who’d have known?
“How’s that feel?” The boy asked, resting his bruised hands on his lap as he leaned away from Sarah, giving her the personal space he probably thought she wanted. In reality, Sarah wanted to be close to someone. She wanted someone to hold her the way her mother or Kiara did. This boy, the gentleness to his touch, maybe he could be what she was looking for.
“Better,” Sarah replied. “Thank you.”
He nodded and made a motion to leave but froze when Sarah spoke.
“Stay,” she said.
“I mean, would you— would you stay?”
The boy gave her a strange look. “I don’t want to be alone,” Sarah admitted quietly after he uttered no response.
“I held a gun to your head,” he whispered.
Sarah gave him a small smile. “We all make mistakes sometimes.”
The boy stayed unmoving, waiting to see if she was joking. When he decided she was being serious, he settled back into where he was sitting before. “Okay,” he said, eyes burning into hers. “I’ll stay.”
The night had progressed l much quicker, the quarter moon now high in the sky, bright as ever. Sarah laid, shoulder to shoulder with this boy who was quite quiet and who stood no chance against Sarah’s rapid fire speech patterns. This boy listened though. He really listened. He seemed to understand every emotion that tore through her throughout the night.
Sarah wanted, desperately, to find out what string of fate decided to bring them together and more importantly
why
, but again, the kid didn’t seem interested in speaking much and she could not risk scaring him away.
So instead, Sarah smiled, plucked the crumpled cigarette he was fiddling with from his hand and said, “You smoke?”
The boy furrowed his brow, the corners of his lips almost threatening to stretch into a smile. “That surprise you?” He asked.
Sarah clicked her tongue. “Not really,” she decided.
A sharp breath of air escaped from the figure laying beside her, it could almost be considered a laugh. He turned on his side and held out a small metal box in her direction. “You want one?” he asked.
Maybe it was the way his voice strained with every word, all his energy being poured into not crying out in pain from the sudden weight on his battered ribs, or maybe it was the lack of sleep rendering her delirious, but Sarah found herself reaching for the box in front of her.
“I’ve never smoked before,” she said, rolling the cigarette between her fingers, and graciously accepting the light from the boy next to her. “But this summer has been shitshow after shitshow so…” Sarah took a long drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs and poison her body on second at a time, then exhaled forcefully, coughing out a quick, “figured I’d just say, fuck it.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said, blowing out a puff of smoke towards the stars above them.
They laid in shared silence for a few minutes more, the occasional deep inhale or cough breaking through the quiet.
“Who did that?” Sarah asked, after the silence stretched on for too long. “To your face, I mean.”
She could feel the body next to hers tense instantly. The question hadn’t seemed too invasive, it’s not like she couldn’t see the bruises, but maybe she had been wrong.
But the boy surprised her, as he often did, and actually answered.
“Mick,” he breathed. “My- the guy from last night.”
That’s what the M stood for, she thought, turning her head towards him to make sure she’d heard right. If that were true, and that man was Mick, that meant the person who did this was just about triple the boy’s size…
Sarah couldn’t move. She was angry. She didn’t even know this kid and he had pointed a gun at her but her blood boiled for him.
“Why?” she dared to ask.
The boy was silent for a long time. Sarah almost thought she’d forgotten to ask the question entirely, so just to be sure, she repeated herself. “Why did he do this?”
“It’s fine,” he said, voice small. “I deserved it, promise.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sarah shot back instantly. The odd thing was, with how certain he sounded, Sarah almost did believe him. But there was no way a kid could do anything to deserve bruises all over his body.
It didn’t make sense.
“I- I should go,” he said, not even leaving her with a second to process what he’d said before he disappeared into the shadows.
Only then did Sarah realize she didn’t even know this boy’s name.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
JJ practically sprinted away from where he and the girl had been talking. He had been seconds away from telling her that his dad was the one who left the bruises, which is crazy. Luke hadn’t even touched him last night.
JJ didn’t know where that idea came from and he was just glad it had left as quickly as it came.
Despite the sudden burst of affection he felt for his father, JJ had no plans on returning home any time soon.
He headed to the one place he knew he’d always have a place to stay: the Château.
The Château was the name of a little house a few blocks south of the beach he was running from. Legally, the shack didn’t belong to anyone, the owner having gotten ‘lost at sea,’ a few years back, but his son stayed there, and he pretty much didn’t give a fuck who else landed on his couch.
Mind you, because of John B’s nonchalant attitude towards his guests, the Château was far from safe, but it was JJ’s safest opinion.
So south he went.
The winding driveway of the Château quickly appeared in sight and the tightness finally unwinded in JJ’s chest.
He stepped over a half-conscious man, muttering something incoherent about the end-of-days, when he saw John B, sprawled out across the couch on his porch.
“That you, Maybank?” the older boy called out, a lazy grin splitting across his face.
JJ found himself returning the gesture as he clambered up the splintering steps to sit beside the newly-nineteen year old.
“What, you miss me or something?” he teased, bringing his knees up to his chest on the couch. This is how he always sat, curled up against John B’s side with his head lolling gently on the older’s shoulders. The boys passed a freshly rolled joint between them, JJ’s throat running raw from its constant abuse.
“In your dreams.”
That was the last thing JJ remembered until he woke up some hours later bent over the side of John B’s tub, dry heaving and sobbing.
“S’okay J,” John B said, his hand tangled deep in JJ’s ratty hair, “You’re fine, sure, you’re fine.”
JJ’s response was one of pure poetry: a wretched cry followed by a stream of blood and stomach acid spewing out of his mouth.
“That’s it, there you go,” John B chanted.
“Wha’d you put in’t?” JJ slurred, pinkish saliva dripping from his lips with every word.
John B’s hands instantly retracted from JJ hair. He was still, quiet, until—
“I didn’t do this.”
JJ laughed. Whatever John B had laced the joint with was still heavily in his system, his mind wasn’t able to be controlled, every thought, every worry, every movement a product of this drug.
“Y’did it before,” JJ said.
That was true. Morbid as it was, this was not the first time John B had increased the dose of something he gave to the kid.
It was right after his dad disappeared at sea when it happened.
In hindsight, JJ should’ve realized he was annoying the older boy by constantly hanging around at his place, but John B usually enjoyed his company, JJ was just trying to cheer him up. And if staying at the Château meant he didn’t have to go home, all the better.
He didn’t think John B would want him gone so bad that he’d—
Whatever. It was in the past now.
“That was a dark time for me, JJ. You know that.”
JJ rested his forehead against the side of the tub, the cool ceramic doing wonders for his headache. “I d’know shit,” he insisted.
The room was silent. JJ’s breathing was normal again, his sobs had cleared up, and he didn’t feel the urge to expel everything and anything in his stomach.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, though not undeserved, John B shouted, “Get out.”
JJ didn’t even have time to pick his head up off the edge of the tub before John B shoved him backwards onto the bathroom tiles. “Get the fuck out of my house,” he screamed.
“You wanna accuse me of shit I didn’t do? Get the fuck out!”
“John B,” JJ started, though his low voice was no match for John B’s manic shouting.
“No, no! Get the fuck out. Get out, get out!”
So JJ ran. His clothes was even more soiled than before, stained with blood and vomit and something else putrid he didn’t quite recognize.
It suddenly hit him that he didn’t have anywhere else to go, except home, that is.
————
He didn’t remember the slow retreat home, he didn’t remember entering the cold, dark house, he didn’t remember collapsing on the floor of his bedroom, his forehead slamming against his bed-frame, but suddenly, it was morning and he was home.
Luke had been pounding on his door for godknows how long, the bent hinges rattling with every slam.
“M’awake,” he called out.
He wasn’t sure exactly what his dad said but he thought it sounded something like, “Better be. Y’slept for days now, sure.”
Days? JJ was certain he had only been out a few hours, though the sudden wave of thirst that overtook every cell in his body when he moved to sit up, proved him wrong. It felt as if he was on the brink of doubling over, the dehydration was just too much.
According to his dad, JJ hadn’t had anything to drink in days. Not to mention that right before falling asleep JJ sort of remembered throwing up.
He couldn’t remember why.
He moved slow, all his energy being poured into keeping himself upright as he limped into the kitchen. He flicked on the tap and… nothing.
“Dad?” he shouted. “D’ya pay the water bill?”
No response, which essentially meant, ‘of course not, stupid bitch.’
He moved onto the cupboards where a few stray water bottles were usually housed, yet those were dry as well.
JJ whipped open the door of the fridge and almost fell to his knees when he saw that it, like everywhere else, was empty.
Well, empty except a jug of milk that he recognized as having been there for months at this point. Months, in a nonfunctional refrigerator.
The milk was basically poison at this point, but it was liquid poison—it was actually probably far too chunky to be considered liquid but fuck the specifics—so JJ was willing to take this risk.
He poured the drink down his throat, forcing himself not to gag at the stench.
Or the taste.
Or the texture.
He forced himself to swallow every last drop and though he still felt the cold embrace of death hovering above him, he didn’t feel quite as thirsty anymore.
JJ considered that a win.
At some point, Luke had lumbered back into the room. JJ wasn’t sure how he had missed his heavy, uneven footsteps, but suddenly his shadow towered over the boy.
“M’bringing ya over to Mick an’ Cal,” Luke said. “Get yourself good an’ready. Mick’s got big plans for’ya today.”
JJ could only cringe at the idea of what Mick’s ‘big plans’ were, but slowly rose to his feet. “Can we,” JJ started, but cut himself off. His question was far too dangerous and even more useless.
Luke turned on his heel to stare eye-to-eye with his son. “Finish the question, boy.”
JJ’s eyes fell to his feet as he muttered, “Can we stop somewhere to eat first?”
“Look me in the eyes when you’re speaking to me,” Luke demanded.
JJ repeated himself and cautiously added, “I’m hungry.”
Luke was silent, unmoving. JJ thought for sure he’d fucked up now.
His father stepped closer and closer, his eyes boring down onto JJ’s cowering frame. He didn’t dare breathe. Not when this man was so close to him and when JJ himself was so close to breaking into hysterical sobs.
Luke’s features were harsh. Skin, eyes, and hair all dulled with years upon years of substance abuse and age, though his bones, much like his son’s, protruded far too obviously, the sharp outline of his ribs visible through the tattered fabric of his dingy wifebeater.
JJ thought his father had maybe taken that title too seriously, his father never seemed to keep a woman around for longer than a night.
The way his father looked at him was strange. JJ couldn’t read the expression that lay across his face. Sometimes it was pride, though those times only seemed to be when an ordinary father should be anything but proud of his son. More often his father regarded him like he was some sort of disease or virus that seeped through his veins, poisoning their once happy family and taking JJ’s mother with it.
JJ didn’t know for a fact that his parents had ever been happy together, he suspected they had. That all stopped once he came along.
So asking his dad for something as simple as a quick trip to the only McDonalds on the island? That was a level of desperation JJ hadn’t reached before.
His father had given up everything for him, but he couldn’t stop asking for more, more, more.
He knew he had to be better. He knew he should just suck it up and deal with the gnawing hunger in his stomach. He knew—
“I could eat,” his father hummed, grabbing the keys to his truck off the counter and heading towards the door.
For a moment JJ thought he was going to leave him here, alone, starving.
JJ was an awful son, evidently, because the very same moment that thought popped into his head, his father called out, “You coming or wha’?”
————
JJ hadn’t eaten such a satisfying meal in years, he was sure of that. For the entire hour—that’s right, Luke took him out for an whole hour—the two ate, their time was spent sharing small jokes that JJ had once believed would never come from his father’s own mouth.
He cherished the times like these, the rare times when he wasn’t completely preoccupied with all his fears and doubts and ‘what ifs’.
But as quickly as the brief moment of peace came, it had disappeared and JJ was standing, alone, outside the Junkyard office’s front door.
The Junkyard was where Mick and Barry worked when they weren’t busy committing felonies and ruining JJ’s life. They were the only two people on the island with the keys to the office building on site. Because of this, the office had become their main residence for any crime-related shenanigans.
Luke’s house was far too obvious and Mick and the rest of them were constantly moving around from house to house. So the office it was.
The room Mick had shoved JJ into upon letting him in the house, was tiny. It was cramped, dim, depressing, pretty much what you’d expect from a crackhead’s plotting dungeon.
There was a table in the center of the room. Cold, metallic, vacant.
There were two chairs.
And that was it.
There was usually more stuff strewn across the room, but today it was blank.
Completely blank.
JJ knew something was wrong.
The latch of the door clicked shut, locking the teenage boy in with these two murderers.
JJ was far from innocent himself, but he’d never killed.
And he never would.
That was the difference between him and any of these people. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life.
These men? They lived with the guilt of taking dozens.
It didn’t seem to bother them too much.
Cal pushed him down into one of the steel chairs, the corner of the backrest digging far into his ribs.
Mick had left at some point, JJ wasn’t quite sure when, but he didn’t really care.
“What is this?” he whispered, fearing Cal the least of any of the giants.
“Necessary.”
JJ sighed. “Thank you, that’s helpful.”
The door swung open, clattering against the back wall. “Watch your mouth there, Jessica,” Mick taunted.
JJ couldn’t help but to lunge from his chair, his hands aiming right for Mick’s neck.
“Don’t you,” he screamed. “Ever,” his fist swung up, aiming for any possible contact, he didn’t care where. “Talk about her again.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks, face twisted in a deep frown, shutting his eyes as Mick slammed him down to the ground.
He didn’t care, he couldn’t care.
Mick had absolutely no right to talk about his mother. His mother who had died to bring him to life.
What a shitty fucking swap.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve, going after me when you look like death himself,” Mick shouted. He held JJ’s arms pinned above his head, the pressure nearly cutting off his air supply completely.
“I’d finish the job myself if I could,” he said. “But your daddy made me promise.
I’m
not allowed to hurt you anymore.”
“Then let go,” JJ all but pleaded. “I’ll tell my dad.”
Mick’s grip released, though he wasn’t anywhere near gentle when he pulled JJ up by his collar and stuck him in his chair.
“You’re some lucky you can play that card, fucking pussy,” Mick spat, sitting down and sulking quite obviously.
It didn’t take long for Mick to get over himself and go back to taking down information on a lined notepad that he kept just out of sight from JJ’s prying eyes. He was only inches from JJ’s right shoulder, blocking his line of sight. It was likely an intentional move on his part, the only question was, why? What did Mick not want him to see? What did his father not want him to see?
JJ slouched down in his chair, letting his head roll back as far as it could go, a harsh cracking sound coming with every movement. These days his body reacted slow, muscles, bones, and joints all tired and worn.
He wanted a different life. One where he wouldn’t likely be paralyzed by the time he turns thirty.
If, he turns thirty.
JJ wasn’t the type of kid who ever got what he wanted though. In fact, he often got the exact opposite.
Like for instance, JJ wishes his life could be easier, and the universe decides to let Barry out of jail.
Barry wasn’t tall, not like Mick or Cal. He was shorter than JJ if the kid dared stand tall in front of him, though JJ wasn’t very daring.
Barry slithered into the room, reeking of something sour. He stopped only inches from where JJ was sitting, his head now hanging lower than ever before.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
JJ hated the way his head shot up, conditioned to respond to Barry’s every command. He hated the way he had learned not to flinch when Barry placed his thick scarred hands on JJ’s cheek.
“Someone grew up in a year.” Barry’s rotting smile was enough to make JJ throw up and he would’ve, if he had anything in his stomach in the first place.
His left hand was still clamped on JJ’s cheek, the other wandering around through the fabric of his shirt, pressing singed fingertips up and down JJ’s battered ribs.
That strange feeling came back. The one where JJ could swear he was moments from passing out. Barry’s fingers still crawled over skin but it wasn’t JJ’s anymore. At least, if didn’t feel like it.
JJ didn’t mind the dreamlike aura that was puppeteering his limp frame. It was like whatever Barry was doing belonged to that spirit now, not him. JJ’s brain refused to feel what was happening to him, pretending was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down sobbing in front of the men.
Barry finished up his scan of JJ’s body, discarding the smaller’s shirt to the floor. Cold air replaced Barry’s never-gentle touch on JJ’s skin, his heart pounding against his chest as a needle was withdrawn from the twin wooden box his father kept as a ‘reward’. JJ knew it by its real name and Barry loved every second of his struggling.
The needle filled, slow as possible. Of course he wanted to drag out the punishment, make every agonizing second all the worse for his favourite bitch.
That was Barry said at least.
Pinching the syringe between two of his filthy fingers, Barry held it to the light and smiled at JJ’s muffled sobs.
“I missed this,” he said as he pinned JJ’s arm down and punctured the skin.
JJ couldn’t help but watch the beads of blood that rolled down his forearm as Barry emptied the needle into his bulging vein.
It wasn’t long before his world went dark.