The Time to Run

Chapter XIX

The room was small and two beds were crammed into each corner. A small table, with potted plants and small trinkets on top, stood in between them. On the other side of the room was a wardrobe that went up to the ceiling. There was a red carpet on the floor.
"What are we meant to do? It's only midday." Avon asked.
"We can talk."
"Ok, anyway, it'd be nice to actually get to know you."
They sat down on one of the beds, shoulders brushing up against each other.
"So, why are you on the run? You know exactly why I am. It's only fair."
"Well, be prepared for a long story." Jack replied.
He explained how he had come from a family with little money. When he was young, he had learned to steal food and clothes. His family had never taught him to, or even suggested he should do it, but he did it anyway. One day, when he was near the castle, he had found a jewel. It had been hidden somewhere underground. Jackson had taken it back to his family, but the owners found him. The owners happened to be rich nobles favoured by the crown. Bidcambrough had come after him, wishing revenge. That had been a year ago, when he was eighteen.
"Wow. I don't know what to think of that. A year?"
"Yeah." He said it like it was something he had excepted a long time ago. That he would probably never get back to a normal life, this was his punishment. Being on the run wasn't much better than prison. At least in prison you were given free food.
"Jack."
"Yeah." He replied.
"What was your family like?"
"They were kind. They cared for me. I never really got to say goodbye. I regret that."
Avon thought of her family. She thought of three years ago, when her family had fallen apart. The time when her father had been a drunkard.
"My family... My family wasn't always the best." She commented.
Jack looked over at her. His face was showed an expression of surprise.
"I have a little brother. His name's Bourne." She added. "He was always good. Always nice. He was three years younger than me, but much braver."
"Than why was it not always good?"
"Well." This was the first time Avon had told someone outside of her family about this. "My father was good. Nice. But my mother passed away when I was thirteen and a few months later my father... my father."
Avon's eyes overflowed with tears. Jack put his arm over her shoulder. He whispered in her ear. He told her she didn't have to say anything. However, she wanted to.
"My father started to drink. Everyday."
Avon leaned down and cried into her hands. She had never talked about this to anyone. She had never thought it would cause her so much pain to say.
Jacked hugged her. His embrace was warm, like it had been before. She felt strange.
Then, Avon felt an urge. An urge to do something reckless.