Chasing Thunder

Chapter nine

Jake was upset. He wasn't talking to anyone and he avoided Nick like the plague. He wouldn't tell anyone what was wrong. We didn't expect anything less.

What was he even doing here?

The weapons room was kept locked. We didn't need him accessing guns and knives when he was acting like this. He would kill someone. No doubt about it.

Will eventually sat with him. Talking like you would to a child, trying not to upset him further. Trying to work out what was wrong. What he could do.

He simply sat, not even acknowledging his words. There was just the tiniest clench of his fists as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

"What did you do?" Will rounded on Nick later, once Jake had gone somewhere quiet.

"He'll be alright." Nick said, though he sounded unsure. "He's just struggling today that's all."

"Struggling with what?"

He didn't reply.

Willis gave up. But I studied Nick a while longer. He had been quiet today as well. It must be something in the family.

~*~

Jake swiped a cloth over the surfaces, a dazed, lost look in his eyes that seemed to be in a place far away.

Memories.

Memories were a funny thing. Sometimes they wrapped around us like a blanket and kept us warm. Other times, they twisted around our hearts like a thorn, cutting deep.

Today wasn't bringing him any good memories.

There was one thing I had noticed about Jake. He never cried.

Even when he was hurting. Even when he was angry. He never cried. He grieved like everyone else, but he didn't cry. He rebelled against the loss. Let it cut him deep. But tears would never dare fall from his eyes.

Was it an act? Or did he just consider tears a waste of time?

He looked up at me.

"Ready?"

"For what?"

"Do you want to learn self-defence or not?" He asked, impatiently.

I wasn't going to ask him about that today. He had enough on his plate to worry about without me bothering him. But the look in his eyes made me stop myself from declining his offer.

He wanted this. He needed something to take his mind off it. He needed someone to yell at when it finally got too much for him.

He brandished a key and unlocked the door with ease. I wouldn't ask him how he got hold of it. I knew he was more than capable of getting anything he wanted and if he couldn't bribe his way around it, well there were a thousand other ways he could accomplish it.

I shrugged and followed him into the room, wondering if it was a smart idea to follow an upset Jake into a room filled with weapons.

"So what's the lesson for today, boss?" I asked.

He studied the wall with glass eyes and picked up a long, deadly sword. He ran a finger along the blade.

Why did he do that with every weapon he touched? Did he like to have his blood on the weapon like he was marking his territory? Did he like the look of blood? Did he want to remind himself that he was still alive?

I couldn't help but clock the scars patterning his arms and shoulders. Battle scars. Were they scars from battles with others? Or was he having an internal battle with himself no one knew about? I hoped not.