Jack wails into his hands. She can't be gone, just like that. What is he to do now? Live his life, move on. He clenches all his muscles together, squeezing himself into the smallest ball possible, still not equating to the size he's feeling inside. How could his life have ended up this way? How many bad decisions has it taken to get here? Jack tries to flicker his mental image to a happy time, if he ever really had one. There was the day he lost his virginity; he was pretty happy then...for about two and a half minutes. The day he bought his first car, not really happy having to dish out money though, so maybe not. Moving out on his own was great at first, before he realised how much maintenance it takes to run a home. Nothing ever really brought pure joy.
There is one day. One day where Jack felt genuine happiness. The day Charlotte agreed to go on a date with him. And then that continued into a happy date. That was genuine happiness, the butterflies in stomach, cheek aching grin, goofy giggle, type happy. And then, once the novelty wore off, the brain springs back to its natural dark self. Use her, she's lying, she's no good, she's stupid, she's trying to dictate your life, do something. Jack remembers how his brain flicked the switch whenever he felt content, springing a dark thought to the front to contradict whatever he was happy doing. His brain has been wired to self-destruct, to destroy anything good that comes his way. It's not that he has never experienced joy and fulfilment, his mind has just been warped into seeing everything in pitch black, instead of filled with light.
Where did the violence come from? It must have been in him all along. Is everyone born this way? Or is it just a select few that get this monstrous defect in their brain that makes them want to hurt others? Maybe Charlotte is right, it could be down to the awful mother. Blame, blame, blame. You're no good. You're a disappointment. Idiot. Engraving the words in a child's brain until it is sculpted into something dark and hateful. Rage spreads from his chest to his limbs, a hot bubble engulfing him. He punches himself in the face. Again, and again. Vigorously attacking his face and head.
"Why, WHY, WHYYYYY?!" he screams. "WHY AM I LIKE THIS?" he blabbers and croaks and hiccups. What a mess.
"Charlotte, please, come back. I need you. I can't live without you." He folds over, exhausted. Head pounding heavier than it was before, eyes throbbing more than they were before, his heart racing through his chest. I can't do this anymore, he thinks, sobbing into the floorboards.
He needs to change; he doesn't want to be like this anymore. He can fight it. He can choose to be a better person, to help others, to make others happy. He stares through his flat, not really seeing, just existing. He wonders how he can change, what he could still fix. The Rhodys are out of the question, that's too shattered to mend, they definitely wouldn't appreciate Jack trying to make amends. Holly? No, she wouldn't give him a second of her time either. Wait, what about Bobby? Would Bobby be too late? It's been so long since he spoke to him. Jack remembers how calm he used to feel around Bobby, even after he slept with Amy, he didn't hate him as much as he hated her. Bobby felt like a security blanket to Jack, he could never explain what it was about him that made him feel that way. Maybe that's just what a real friend feels like. He could try to call him. He's just so tired, his body feels too heavy to even move a toe. Jack melts into the floor, becoming as lifeless as the floorboards.
"Jack?"
An unexpected voice brings Jack back to consciousness.
"Charlotte?" He tries to concentrate his eyes, but he's added so much swelling to his already damaged face, he's basically blind. He can feel fresh drops of blood dripping across his face onto the floor.
"It's me, Jack, I'm here. What on Earth have you done?"
Jack feels a light feathery touch in between his shoulder blades, a hand he thought he'd never get to feel again. He dares not move; in fear the sensation will disappear, and he will never get it back.
"I can't see you."
"It's okay, you don't need to."
"Are you really here? Where did you go?" There's desperation in Jack's voice.
"I think I got the closure I needed. I learned that it was never me and I did way more than I should have. You may not want to hear it, but it's the truth. I should have left a long time ago, but I loved you so much I wanted to fix you. But broken people can't fix broken people. The hard truth is, when someone treats you as bad as you did me, you should walk away. Don't burn yourself trying to put out someone else's fire, leave them to burn on their own...protect yourself," she says.
"Strangely enough, I agree with you...I wish you did leave me. Then at least you'd still be here... you know, really be here. I can't imagine having to live in a world without... Charlotte Rhody in it." Jack struggles to get the words out, feeling pretty sure the drool forming a small puddle on the floor from his mouth is blood.
"Wow, we agree on something, that's crazy. What a crazy end to our crazy journey, eh?" she chuckles so sweetly. She doesn't move her hand from Jack's back.
"What do you mean...end?" Jack asks, desperation amplified now.
"My work here is done, Jack. I get to leave now. I get to rest, finally."
Jack puts all his strength in sitting up to try and look into those hypnotic eyes one last time.
"No, no... you can't...I can't live without you, Charlotte...Don't leave me. I'm sorry...give me another chance. Please..." He finds her face, glowing in front of him, seeming like the only light in the room. Her hand is still holding his back. He prays she never let's go.
"I haven't got a choice. This isn't a second chance for us, I'm dead. This is closure. This was a lesson, for both of us. I can rest and you can restart. It's meant to be this way."
"No, no, no... you can't!" he says again, trying to reach for the blurry angel. "I feel like I'm dying, Charlotte...I feel like I'm fading."
"Don't be dramatic, dummy, you'll be fine. You're just beaten black and blue. You need rest and time to recover," Charlotte chortles.
"I just feel so tired. Please don't...leave. I won't survive without...you."
"You're going to be fine. I trust you to be the best you can be...I know you have it in you." Charlotte shuffles closer to him and helps hold his head up by his chin so they can be eye to eye.
"I love you," Jack whispers into her mouth.
"I love you," Charlotte whispers back as the gap closes and their lips touch one last time. Her warm, silky lips press hard onto his wet, swollen ones. The perfect match. And then, after a couple of tender seconds, her warmth disappears, and when Jack forces his eyes back open, so is her fuzzy silhouette. She's gone.
YOU ARE READING
The Dead and the Broken
General Fiction"If there's evil in anyone, if it exists at all, that's what that boy is made of." Jack, thus far, has glided through life by his own rules and has successfully kept out of consequences' reach, no matter what chaos he has caused and no matter who he...
