Laughing Jack: How To Put A Jack In The Box Back In The Box (Laughing JackxOC)

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: A Mother and Sons Relationship

Though Dylan remained silent, he retaliated with a swift kick to Jack's leg, a silent command to cease his macabre musings. Meanwhile, Dylan busied himself making oatmeal and discreetly crushing medicine to ease his mother's hangover, a routine he'd mastered to prevent her from risking an overdose.

Momentarily frowning at Dylan's reprimand, Jack's expression soon brightened with a wicked idea. As Dylan's back turned, Jack seized a knife and, with a sinister smirk, teleported behind Dylan's mother, running his finger along the blade just as Dylan turned back, catching sight of the unsettling scene. Narrowing his eyes at Laughing Jack's mischief, Dylan swiftly intervened, feigning concern. "Hey, it's pretty stuffy in here," he remarked, hurriedly moving to open a window. Darting a glare at Jack, he silently warned him to cease his antics, his irritation palpable.

"Ah, thank you. It was getting rather stuffy in here," she remarked as Dylan opened the window, unaware of Laughing Jack's presence or the fact that Dylan now wielded a kitchen knife.

Amidst the scene, Laughing Jack chuckled softly as Dylan accepted the knife, only to find himself suddenly transported back to the kitchen, holding a pill bottle poised above the oatmeal. Dylan hurriedly intervened, snatching the bottle away from Laughing Jack's grasp, all while his mother continued her stream of random chatter.

"Oh, come now, Little Mousey Mouse, I'm just trying to be of assistance," Laughing Jack remarked with a mischievous grin. "Assistance in silencing the old hag," he added with a wicked laugh, much to Dylan's dismay. Annoyed by Laughing Jack's seemingly juvenile demeanor, Dylan scowled, keenly aware of the dark, murderous undertones beneath the facade.

"Dylan?" His mother's voice broke through his reverie, prompting him to shift his gaze towards her. With a gentle but concerned expression, she met his eyes. "Is everything okay? You seem lost in thought," she inquired, her tone tinged with worry.

Dylan's pause lengthened as he studied his mother's face. The lines of fatigue and worry etched into her features softened momentarily, revealing glimpses of the woman she used to be before her struggles with addiction took their toll. In that brief interlude, she seemed like the mother he remembered from his childhood – caring, nurturing, and free from the shackles of her demons. But the illusion shattered as quickly as it had formed, replaced by the harsh reality of their current situation. How could he possibly burden her with the weight of his own fears and the sinister presence that lurked in the shadows of their home? The knowledge of the psychotic killer clown's existence, a being so far removed from humanity, gnawed at Dylan's insides, but he couldn't bring himself to utter a word of it to his mother. He wanted to protect her, shield her from the horrors that threatened to engulf their lives. Yet, the truth remained unspeakable, trapped behind a wall of silence born from the necessity of preserving what little semblance of normalcy they had left.

"I'm fine," Dylan reassured, his lips curving into a smile that, though meticulously crafted, carried the weight of deception. It was a facade honed through countless rehearsals, just convincing enough to appease his mother's concerns without revealing the tangled web of worries that truly occupied his mind. "Just the usual school exams and college applications on my plate. Nothing worth fretting over," he continued, his tone steady despite the churning uncertainty within. But beneath his composed exterior, Dylan's thoughts raced, grappling with the dissonance between his words and reality. His college applications had long been dispatched, his academic achievements securing him a place at the forefront of his class. Winter exams held little threat to his academic prowess. Yet, the truth remained veiled behind his practiced smile, concealed from his mother's probing gaze by necessity rather than choice...

"College?" Her voice trembled with a mix of pride and apprehension, her gaze clouded with the bittersweet realization of her child's imminent departure into adulthood. "Have you decided where you want to go?" she inquired, her tone betraying her struggle to comprehend the swift passage of time.