Red Is The Color Of Sin | septiplier

11 | angry

| @cringelee's chapter |

When Jack decided he had been in the shower long enough, he got out and dried himself off. He was hesitant to look in the mirror, but when he did, he noticed his face was still red from the slap. He held a shaky hand up to his face, his fingers tracing over the mark his father had left. Even after it had happened, Jack could barely register the event.

His father had struck him. A man who had always cared for Jack and who never rose to violence hit him. His son. Wanting to just forget about it, he slipped into his pajamas and got into bed. He could hardly sleep. All he could think about was what his father had said and done.

"I don't even know what to say to you right now. There's got to be a way to fix you, I know there is."

His father truly believed Jack was broken. He could feel the tears suddenly run down his face, and soon his chest shook as he began to sob. Now, he felt broken? Was it really so wrong to love someone of the same gender? Was it really such a sin? 

Eventually as the night carried on, Jack's sobs decreased and he finally fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he discovered his father was gone. A sigh of relief came form Jack's lips. At least he had the house to himself for a while. He wondered what Mark was up to. Jack sighed, throwing himself back onto his bed; there was nothing to do.

T i m e  S k i p

It was just turning 5:00 (pm) and Jack had done nothing all day. All he had done was lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Then, all the way from his room, he heard his front door open. He sighed, thinking it was just his father. 

"Jack?"

Jack's heart skipped a beat. That wasn't his father; it was Mark's voice. But how could he have gotten in? Jack could have sworn the door was locked when he checked it this morning. Jack was frozen, unsure of what to do. Mark wasn't supposed to be here. After some loud footsteps, Mark appeared in Jack's doorway.

"Hey, church boy," Mark had a grin on his face as he sat on the edge of Jack's bed. "Why didn't you text me? I've been trying to reach you all day." 

"My dad took my phone," Jack stated simply as he sat up, facing Mark.

Mark sighed. "What a jerk," Mark started to laugh, but then his entire demeanor changed. "What happened?" Mark gently touched the side of Jack's face, staring in disbelief at the bruise.

Jack froze again. Had it turned into a bruise? Jack avoided Mark's gaze as he said, "He hit me."

Mark let out a breath, running his hand through his red hair. He was clearly distraught. "I swear to God, I'm going-" Jack cut him off by grabbing Mark's hand; evident fear in his eyes.

"Please don't do anything. It's.. It's really nothing."

"Jack, he hit you! It's obviously not nothing; it's abuse!" Mark stood up, pacing around Jack's room. When Jack didn't respond, Mark sat back down on the bed, pulling Jack onto his lap. "I won't let him hit you again," Mark whispered, holding Jack tightly.

Jack's sadness faded away as he practically melted in Mark's arms. At times like this, he didn't care what his father thought. Who cared if it was a sin? "Mark," Jack began, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening again. This time, it really was his father.