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(Jack's POV)

(oh yeah, yall knew this was comin)

Bob and I were in Kohls, looking at clothes and bathing suits.

Bob kept trying stuff on, so we were taking forever. I sat outside the dressing room, on my phone. I hadn't tried on anything, or even looked for anything yet.

It was Bob's idea to come here, so I figured I would let Bob shop.

Suddenly, Bob came out of the dressing room in his normal clothes, looking ready to go. "You're finally done trying on clothes?" I asked, sighing.

"Yeah, but why don't you try something on? I mean, I found a shirt I want to get, why don't you find something to get as well." He suggested.

I shrugged, I was here so I might as well do something fun. I walked over to the men's section, where the sweatshirts were located.

"Sweatshirts? It's almost summer, dude." Bob laughed. I glared up at him, continuing to look at sweatshirts.

"Yeah, I know its surprising for the guy that's always wearing shorts and tight shirts to feel insecure about his body and want to wear baggy clothing." I snapped.

Bob looked guilty and kept his distance while I was looking.

I didn't mean to snap, it just sort of, came out. I should probably apologize to Bob, but I couldn't. The words 'I'm sorry' never left my head. I thought them countless times, but my mouth just won't open to get the words out there.

I came across a red sweatshirt with a big word across the front, saying 'PLAYER'. I chuckled, thinking of the last week when I gave Mark this exact sweatshirt. He still hadn't given it back, so I'm guessing he wants to keep it for his first game.

I picked up the sweatshirt, holding it up to check the size. It would fit me, why not get it? It might be funny to wear it around Mark to see his reaction.

I smiled, picking it up and walking over to Bob.

"I think I'm done, if you're ready to go." He glanced at my sweatshirt, smiling.

"It's nice you found something that describes you."

"Hey!" I laughed. Bob started laughing, and we pretty much just fell into laughing fits right there in the isle.

It's been awhile since I've laughed. It feels good. A nice genuine laugh.

We payed for our clothes and started walking through the mall towards the food court. We were pretty far from the food court, so Bob sparked up some conversation.

"Hey, Jack. If you don't mind me asking, well, why are you the way that you are? With Mark, with everyone..."

I blushed with embarrassment, not really wanting to talk about it, but what the hell? We had a long walk anyway.

"If I tell you, you can't tell anyone. Anyone, got that?" He nodded.

"My life was pretty normal as a baby, I had a nice older sister too. That all changed when she got pregnant at 14.

My parents were furious, but they knew they couldn't take it out on her. She was their angel, and they loved her no matter what. Instead of taking their anger out on their pregnant 14 year old, they took it out on their three old son.

Getting smacked for no reason got pretty normal each day. I got yelled at and punished and embarrassed countless times for no damn good reason. My sister would embarrass me in front of my friends if she saw me with any, and my so called 'friends' would become my bullies. After a point I just stopped making friends.

I'm pretty sure I gave up on friends when I was about nine. By then, smacking turned into punching and kicking. Bloody noses were normal every night. Once and awhile my sister got to partake in everything.

She was 20 when I was nine, so she was already moved out, but she visited home often with her perfect husband and perfect baby. If I would even just sneeze at the dinner table, my sister would practically throw me off my chair. My parents found entertainment in it.

When I got into middle school, we moved to be closer to my sister. Away from Ireland, and to LA, right here. I was so tired with everything, that I started rebelling and acting out at school. Taking everything out on other people.

I didn't want anything to get worse, so I just said it was my neighbor that beat me up, or I fell, or my friend and I got into a fight, or some stupid ass shit that made the teachers believe I was fine.

Of course, every time I acted out, they called my mom. My mom didn't hit me as hard as my dad, and the older I grew, the stronger I was. When I got to about 16, her hits didn't hurt. So, my mom told the school to call my dad instead now.

Worst time too, because my dad started to hit me the day I came home with green hair. I got a pretty bad slap for that one.

Nowadays when I get into trouble and they call my dad, I can expect to get yelled at and discouraged the whole car ride home, listening to things like 'you're a disappointment', 'you're not my son', 'you were a mistake', 'be more like your sister'.

When we get home, I would just stand in the living room. If I ran I made it worse. He's kicked down my door before. He uses his hands and steel toed boots almost always. He punched me in my face when I got home from having that fight with Mark. He kicked me in the leg too, which Mark noticed. That was the first time I cried in awhile. His hits just seemed harder and harder and I couldn't take it. I looked like a bloody mess afterward.

I had to lie to Mark once, claiming my bruise was from when we fell off the bleachers.

When we first got home though from the fight with Mark, it was a little more intense. He locked me in the bathroom with a razor blade. He just threw it at me. I knew what he was suggesting, I just didn't believe that any normal parent would be doing this to their kid. He wouldn't let me out of the bathroom until I did what he wanted me to, so I just broke and did it."

I lifted my sleeve slightly to reveal multiple recent scars from slitting my wrists.

"He's never satisfied. He won't ever be, I was always just an object to him, a punching bag. That's all I ever will be, to anyone.

A bully who acts all tough, but is really a pathetic asshole who gets beat by his dad. Someone who pushes away the people they love most, and they don't even know why they do it.

To be honest, I don't know why I still deal with it. I can't tell anyone, so why not end the suffering for me, and end the anger that my parents have."

"Jack, if you're talking about suicide, just stop right there. Lot's of people care about you too much." Bob interrupted.

He walked ahead, leaving me behind a little because he saw Marzia and Mark sitting up ahead.

"Yeah, despite the regular old anti suicide speech, that doesn't work for everyone." I mumbled to myself, plastering a fake smile on my face and walking up to greet them.


frik yall I cried writing this chapter ughhhh this was hard to write but I knew it was comin. oh lord jesus more tears are yet to come. what? I didn't say anything. nope. keep scrollin.

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