Gift?

The Drawing

Jack

I'm finally going to America, the promise land, sorta. I can't remember exactly what's waiting for me there and me Ma won't tell me why I wanted to go so badly. Two years ago, I was playing rugby with my friends and I got smacked in the head. No harm done, other than my memories of high school, which I guess is okay. Everyone hates high school, where you realize life isn't a rainbow and there is no pot of gold.
"Sean! Yer plane is gonna leave in a n hour, we gotta get to te airport, now!"
"Okay! Ma!"
I walked around my room making sure I wouldn't forget anything, then I noticed that one of my picture frames looked stuffed. I took out the paper that was stuck in there. It was a drawing of a boy, I knew I had drawn it since it had my mark, but who is this boy. He had a smile, but it seemed excessive, his hair had a red patch, which reminded me of my green. He seemed really strong, and his almond eyes nearly hypnotized me.

--

I finally landed in Los Angelos, and man, is it different from Ireland. Luckily my mother still owned the house we used to live in, so I would have a place to stay. As I was admiring the house and trying to remember, this lady across the street was yelling at me.
"Jack! Is that you? Jack, please, he needs you!"
I was startled so I ran into my house, but the lady was knocking and yelling at my door.
"Mark! Don't you care about Mark?"
Mark? Is that the guy I drew. The lady finally stopped and went back into her house, I could here her crying, and it made me feel guilty.

I went up to my room to unpack, luckily the house was still furnished, I just hope no bugs got in. I tacked my drawing up on the wall and questioned him.
"Who are you? Are you Mark? Do you know that lady? How did the lady know me? What happened? Do I love you?"
That last question surprised me, I haven't had a relationship since, well, I can't remember. If we were a thing, then it must have died off when I went to Ireland. But I'm guessing this guy still needed me, especially with that woman's outburst. I fell asleep staring at the drawing, hoping I'd remember, because if this guy really needed me, I wanted to help.

--

"Jack."
"Who are you."
"That's not important."
I looked at the guy, he was the same as my drawing but he had a very grave face. His arms were mangled and bloody, and he was covered in bruises.
"What happened to you?"
"You."
"Me? What did I do."
"You left me without a reason, a reason to keep going."
Everything grew hazy and was darkening. "Wait bu-!"
I woke up in a cold sweat screaming at what I had just witnessed. He had a knife and was stabbing himself in the heart.
What had my past self done?

A/N : sucky and short first chapter, I know, but I did feel like there needed to be a separation in the story line, so what better way than to make a whole other book. Right? I really do hope you've enjoyed!