Till Death Do Us Part

The Devil's Effects ~ II

Jack frowned as he pulled into the dark driveway of his large family home. His father, the CEO of a successful logging business, had purchased a three story mansion as a way to make up for his lack of attention in his children's lives. When Jack was a child, it seemed like a home straight out of a fairytale. However, as he got older, the shadows casted by the grand manor made him feel nothing more than loneliness.

Turning off his car, he stepped out, shutting the door behind him with enough force to shake the car itself. Still overwhelmed by the proposition he had received from Ariana minutes before, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his warm blankets and doze off in a place where he knew he'd be safe. He hurried his way to the front door, pushing his key forward into the left manor door's brass lock. Once the mechanism clicked, he shoved his way inside, locking it behind him with anxious speed. Although he normally saw the house as rather dreary and cold, being here after his past couple hours was the safest he had felt in years. He knew his father was snoring upstairs either in his office chair or his bed, and the thought comforted him. He peeled his soaked jacket from the crewneck he had been wearing, hanging it up on a hallway hook.

While Jack was snooping his way through the kitchen, trying to find a small something to take upstairs with him for a snack, the right pocket of his dirty jeans vibrated. He froze on the spot, his heart skipping a couple beats. With a shaking hand, he reached down, sliding it into the pocket. Praying it wasn't Ariana, he picked up the phone and read the notification with hesitance.

Dad: Just heard you come home. Make sure you lock the front door. Goodnight!

Jack breathed a large sigh of relief. No longer feeling hungry due to the minor scare, he made his way up the grand staircase. After walking up the two flights of stairs, he entered his third-floor bedroom. While the walls outside of his room were decorated with art pieces and lavish furniture, his room held a large, messy bed, a computer, and a littering of clothing all over the floor. Even at his age, he had never worried about the idea of messiness- a maid would visit their home once a week to clean all areas that were not deemed fit by her discretion and she, almost always, took the longest amount of time in Jack's room.

He allowed his shoulders to slump as he removed the damp crewneck and jeans, tossing his phone on his bedside table. Using one hand to turn on his lamp, he grabbed a pair of fleece pants from his floor, pulling them on and relaxing into their comfortable embrace. With a yawn and a small stretch, he laid down onto his bed, one arm resting overtop of the tangled blankets beside him. He reached for the table, grabbing for his phone. His screen lit up with the notifications of two new messages.

Ariana: Michael's home. He's not in a good mood.
Ariana: I'm scared, Jack.

Jack's hand slightly shook as he reread the message, uncertain on whether or not he should reply. Should he even trust her? Why would she lie about this, though? It wasn't necessarily a bad message, just a comment to keep him updated as she normally had been for the past couple years. He glanced at the clock. It was 12:20 AM; about the time when she predicted he'd be home.

Jack: Any way I can help?

He eyed the messaging bubble, its slow dots nearly putting him into a trance. He pictured Ariana; her small waist and dainty features. Her soft-spoken voice rang out in a way that enchanted Jack with a single word. Then, the message bubble disappeared.

Jack: Is everything okay?

It did not reappear. His message lingered on the white screen and his eyes were fixated on where the bubble would appear. It never showed up. Seconds merged into minutes and Jack could feel his heart beginning to race. Was she alright? Did he hurt her?

Jack: Hello?
Jack: Ariana?

He glanced at the digital clock placed beside his lamp. 12:26 AM.

Jack: Ariana, please reply.
Jack: You're making me really nervous.
Jack: Hello?!!

He could feel himself beginning to panic. He would have no one other than himself to blame if she was in danger, and the idea of this clouded his mind until he was no longer capable of any rational thinking. He finally came to a realization that when she had asked him, she wasn't purposefully searching for a release from her husband for cruel reasons. She was doing it for self defense from a situation she would otherwise never be able to get out of. Wasn't there a low statistic somewhere about the likeliness of someone getting out a domestic violence-related relationship? Another quick look at the clock. 12:31 AM. Jack could feel his legs beginning to twitch with concern.

Jack: Please text me as soon as you can.

He wasn't sure when he had managed to fall asleep during all of his worrying, but he wasn't surprised the next morning when he woke up and his body was still aching with exhaustion. He was intertwined with one of his blankets, his phone resting beside him on the large bed, halfway covered by a memory foam pillow. He shoved the pillow out of the way and grabbed ahold of his phone. He tried to read the notifications he had received, but his eyesight was still blurry with morning grogginess. He set down his phone, rubbing his eyes. Squinting, Jack looked a second time at the notifications. He had only one.

Dad: Good morning! I know it's a Sunday, but doesn't hurt to get a head start on the week. I'm going into the warehouse today. I'll be back around dinner.