Fearless - Organisation XIII

Chapter Two - Cry

When we get home, I grab Blake's hand and run up to my bedroom. Jacob follows us closely and locks the door quickly, knowing that dad will be starting to drink as soon as he can which means the violence may begin. In here, we're safe.

Blake walks up to the window, watching the clouds move and admiring every aspect of the street that he once belonged too. I look at Jacob who looks back at me a little nervous. "What's wrong with him? Does he remember why he had to leave? How did you guys meet up again?" I shoot him a glance.

"Jacob, if I knew I would have told you by now." I say under my breath. Jacob shifts away slightly, looking offended and surprised at my sudden outburst. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..." He shakes his head, dismissing my apology and knowing that it's been a rough day. 

I creep forward to Blake hesitantly, not wanting to disturb him from his thoughts but knowing that whatever is going on is upsetting him more than either, me or Jacob, know. I put my hand on his shoulder, standing on my tiptoes to reach him. He looks at me before giving me a small, sad smile and sitting down on my bed. Me and Jacob sit either side of him.

"I guess it's been a while since I've seen the sunshine, or since I have even smiled." He looks down, his face screwing up to show the pain he's feeling. I look worriedly at Jacob and don't know what I can do to help him. Jacob sighs, we're both at a loss for words. "I don't know what it feels like to feel okay. I just sit there, out in the cold, praying for the day when there is no more rain." He covers his face and sobs hysterically. I quickly move and hug him, crying myself now as I imagine him out homeless in the streets. The streets around us are rough, and to make it even worse, he's just a nobody. He's got nowhere to go and nobody to go to. Sure, he can go see members of the black parade or can try to get in contact with the organisation's leaders but it's near impossible to do so these day. Me and Jacob tried. We were both around 9 years-old. It took us forever to get through to them and when we did, we tried to tell them that our mum had died and that dad was getting violent. Two little kids who had no idea on how to cope in this situation and knew hardly anything about the society we live in. The leaders simply said it was normal and said we'd wasted critical time by contacting them in the first place. So, we've lost hope as a family. We don't want to contact them anymore and even when dad told Jacob he could go to them, we won't unless it really is an emergency and we are helpless.

"I hardly feel alive these days. I've thought about it, joining mum up there in heaven or wherever nobodies get sent. I know I need to find a partner, make them a somebody and then we can fulfil our lives together but I don't feel like trying." He sighs. "Since mum died, I've had this sort of hole in my heart and the longer I'm away from you, Evie, or even you, Jacob, it grows bigger."

Jacob starts to get angry, his breathing picking up and his fists clenching. Jacob notices this instantly and takes me away from him. I cry out, imagining that it's dad trying to separate us once again. "Evie, let go!"

He pulls me back and I curl up into a small ball in his arms. Blake stands and punches the wall so hard that it nearly goes through to the other side. He pants and yells, "All I do is cry! Everyone in this world leaves me!"

There's loud banging noises at the door and me and Jacob move back to the wall rapidly, curling up together. Blake looks at it and then at us nervously. "Open the door, Blake. I know that was you. Jacob would never do such a thing."

"Oh yeah? Well what about Evie! You don't give a damn about her and you never will! She deserves so much more than you!" As he shouts the last bit, he unlocks the door and swings it open to stand face to face, nose to nose, with a very angry dad. Dad swings a punch but Blake ducks, shifting around so he's behind him and starts to run down the stairs. That's when we hear the front door slam and the shouting is moved to the streets for the entertainment of our neighbours.