Captain Jack (Book Three - ManxMan ManxManxWoman)

Chapter Nine

When James Bird died, the coldness that closed around his heart hadn't come from that punch that had shattered his world.

The punch had only been a punch. James was a footballer, he was no stranger to the burn of physical pain. Life was painful when you were an athlete. Your body was physically drained daily as your muscles ripped and healed and ripped and healed.

It was just pain. And without pain there was no gain.

It had come from the coldness others. That coldness of hate, of intolerance, of whatever darkness was the complete opposite of love that engulfed his parents and turned them against him.

When James Bird had died, he'd been weak, naive, trusting.

When Jack Bird died. He had been no better.

A morning runner had found him in the snake like arms of the extensive root system of that giant Figtree in the park. Pale white as the dead and completely naked.

He'd been there all night, face, wrists, ankles and arse all covered in blood and assorted bodily fluids. The scraps of his clothes torn to shreds around him, each piece crusty with a drying clear-white substance.

The woman screamed so loud the staff from the nearby hairdresser who were doing their morning hair-do's had coming running out thinking that she was being attacked.

When one of the hairdressers, twenty-three-ish with long dark curls, leant over the spent body of Jack Bird. She placed a trembling finger to his throat, careful not to touch any of the blood and shouted at the top of her lungs.

"He's alive! Call a fucking ambulance!" She ripped her cardigan off her shoulders and wrapped it about his arms. Suddenly there were other people there doing the same.

They didn't move him but garment after garment was handed forward until Jack was a pile of jackets and slowly realising the physical pain he was in.

He whimpered, feeling it radiating through him as his body warmed up and the numbness of the cold morning very slowly left him into the cold earth underneath.

"Don't move," the hairdresser commanded him, not that he could.

His joints had all completely locked up and every attempt to lift his head came to no avail.

"Stay still," she crooned to him, putting a warm hand against his face. He closed his eyes trying to absorb that warmth.

He was so very cold.

"Stay with me," she reminded him that he was alive and his eyes opened drowsily.

He was so very tired.

"Where is that fucking ambulance," the curly haired woman demanded of someone he couldn't see.

Someone responded back, "they can't get through the morning traffic, I can see the lights bouncing off the Watson Tower,"

Jack managed to grip the woman's arm with his hand and she looked down at him.

"Home," he forced out, every part of that word hurting him, not just his body but his soul. "Watson," he added, barely about to that.

"Is your name Watson?" She asked him urgently.

"Home," he said again, eyes pleading with her to understand.

"Your home is the Watson Tower?" She asked him looking strangely familiar with it, "what's your name mate?"

He couldn't say Bird. They would alert his parents then and would they even care?

"Its coming, some asshole in a hotted up Audi R8 was trying to get into the tower garage and blocked off the ambulance." 'Someone' told her.

That hotted up Audi R8 had to be Josh. It must be Josh. He was picking him up for school, or at least Josh thought he was.