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TW // Abuse


We're still in the Twinkie when I speak up. "JJ just drop me off at the chateau, my truck is there, I have to go home." He looks at me, eyes full of concern. "What?" J asks "You can't go home Jack your brother is there." "I know he is JJ. I'm running out of clothes at JB's and I need to pick up some stuff anyways. I'll be just fine." It seemed now that I was trying to convince myself and not him as I muster a weak smile. "Fine." He says.

I grab his hand that's still holding mine and give it a soft kiss, resting my cheek on our intertwined hands for a moment while he takes his eyes off the road to look in my eyes and smile.

We pull into the clearing at the chateau and JJ stops the van. "Please don't get hurt." "I'll try my best Maybank!" I say jumping out and smiling at Pope. "Bye Pope!" "Bye Jack! Be safe." My smile disappears as I make my way to my truck and get in.

I wait for the boys to leave until I break down. I have to go back to my place. I've been putting it off for weeks, and the longer I wait the worse it's gonna be. I turn on the radio to prepare myself and make my way home.

I park the car and wipe my tears, walking into the house with my head held high, trying my best to be confident with JJ's words on my mind. "Just don't get hurt." I don't think anyone's home. I hope not at least. "Rafe?" Fuck.

My brother walks out of the hallway and looks me in the eye. "Jackie?" He's obviously drunk. "Where the hell have you been?" He yells. Well, this is escalating quickly, all I have to do is stay calm and try to dodge his punches. "At a friends." I reply. "For two weeks?" "If it's not obvious enough I didn't really wanna be here." My plan is going downhill. "Yeah, I don't give a fuck if you're here or not but dad does." He says, slurring his words. "As if dad cares." I say.

My brother walks over to me and before I can back away, he grabs my face, holding my jaw in between his hands, lifting me off the ground slightly. "Your father has been up my ass all fucking week about you. Understand?" He says slowly, voice low. His breath fucking stinks. "We don't want them to find out now do we?" My heart drops and I can't even feel my hands trying to pry his off of my face anymore. "The cops come and it's over for us. For you. Your friends would find out Jackie."

He puts me down and notices my shirt that's way to big on me, probably JJ's and the baseball cap of JB's that I stole earlier. "You haven't been hanging around those dirty Pogues have you Jackie?" I look down at my shoes, not saying anything. "Jackie?" "Why do you care anyways?" "Because Jackie. They're trouble." "Says you!" I yell. "Stop acting like you care about me. I'm only in this house because dad didn't want me in his anymore. So please for the love of God stop acting like it's the biggest deal who I'm around when you exist in Rafe Cameron's life!"

Something comes flying at me, whizzing past my head. I look to the ground. A yellow glass picture frame with a photo of us, shattered next to my feet.

"Fuck you." He says coming near me. "Don't you dare speak to me like that. When I give you money, and a room. A fucking life Jackie!" I start laughing until his fist collides with my face, jaw specifically. I try my best to fight back but he's too strong, punching me over and over until I'm on the ground, choking on the blood in my throat.

He gets up. "Do you understand Jackie? I don't want you around them." He spits. I can't even muster an answer, I'm too busy catching my breath, huddled up on the floor. "Get out of my fucking house!" He yells in my face. Picking me up by the arm and practically dragging me out the door.

I lay on the ground for a while before deciding to get up and stagger to my truck. Keys in hand I get in, locking the doors, just in case. I drive until I reach a random parking lot. Turning off the engine and leaning my head back on the seat. My shirt is soaked. "No no no no." I say, looking down, holding the hem of JJ's shirt out, stains of red tint the fabric. "Oh my God no." J loved this shirt. And now it's ruined because of me. It hurts to cry, but I do it anyways, my head falling to my hands, face stinging from the saltwater in my cuts.

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