Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 2.5: Cremated

They were too late. Jack seethed. Margorie begged. The royal guards bowed their heads to the furnace and then, once it was finished, they jarred the remains and gave them to Jack who handed them to Margorie. He didn't want to have anything more to do with this family who did stupid things every turn of the head. 

If his sister had brains in that head of hers, she would have not left the property unattended with their dead father unable to relay his will, and the will having been shredded up at some point. Emmett had, apparently, been quite unforgetful at least for the last few tasks of his life.

"Jackie—"

Jack picked up his pace until he was running. He just wanted to get away. To forget. To leave. Never look back.

That night, he didn't visit the Goldfish like he normally did on Sundays. He lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. He just didn't understand Margorie or his father. What was going on in their minds? He could find out if he just touched their left sides, but every hug, every consoling, every time he was with them, it was unconscious habit to not touch the left. When Margorie leapt in his arms, he knew he didn't touch her left side, or he would have heard her thoughts. He couldn't even remember how he had his arms.

Family member thoughts was something he tried to keep away from. Then it became a habit.

I should have touched more. Dung, that sounds weird. Jack sighed and rolled to his side. He hated not being able to sleep. And his migraines weren't even bothering him tonight. It would have been the perfect night to sleep.

"Tuesday, Palestone's coming. Officer Hamstern, that girl Eli, focus on that," he said out loud to himself. "Forget it all. Forget it. But dung, the old man wouldn't even leave the estate to me."

He started to seethe again.

He had recalled the contract that said he would get half the money. Upon arriving, their father had already been removed from the home and brought to the church and was already halfway in to being cremated. In that moment, he had said to his sister, "Take it all, thief. Take the effin' money. I don't want any of it."

Now he kind of wanted it. "I shouldn't have said that," He rolled over on his back, "as every little bit helps."

"No, stop thinking about it. Tuesday, think about Tuesday. Everything will go well on Tuesday." Jack closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep a wink that night.