Hush

Jack: Murderer

The closest thing to home for Jack currently was an abandoned house, graffiti marred every wall with tacky lettering and uninspired words. Jack had stayed here for nearly a year, he knew when entering the house with the big metal door that never locked, to be silent as a ghost as he stepped over the passed out bodies on the floor. Jack understood the strong smells of aerosols, chemicals and glue, he knew not to panic when someone shook and began to froth at the mouth. He even offered water to the needy when they would wake looking worse than death. Tommy never understood any of this yet, Tommy seen track lines, dirty spoons and used needles. He watched the resting bodies, as eyes explored an entirely different planet. As Tommy followed Jack through the house of despair, dread pricked his skin and he wished desperately now that his mother hadn't abandoned him.

'What are you doing?' He hissed at Jack who had knelt beside someone who had urinated during their high.

'Shh,' Jack answered. He patted down the pockets of the teenager and pulled out a wad of cash. 'He has been bullying me for weeks,' Jack explained. 'This is my compensation.' He flicked through the mixed notes, there must have been at least twenty, most of them tens and fives, he offered half to Tommy.

'But that's personal, you said earlier you only take from shops, and strangers. Not people you know.' Tommy commented, his eyes betraying how scared he felt, that gleam they first had not quite so bright now reality was sinking in.

'The guy is a junkie, this is dirty money, probably stolen from an old dear, besides rather this than what I had planned originally.' Jack ran a finger across his throat jokingly, then forced half the cash into Tommy's hand and picked up Hush before continuing to walk through the house, leading Tommy up the creaky, bare stairwell and into his usual room. He closed the door behind them quietly.

'What if he comes looking for it?' Tommy said, not hiding his anxiety, as he shoved the cash deep into his pockets.

'He won't be awake for hours, even when he wakes he will be too rough to care for another day or two.' Jack shrugged, then looking closer at Tommy added, 'hey, relax. We're safe 'ere.'

Tommy looked around him, three kids slept around them on double mattresses set on the floor, stained with Lord knows what, he swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Feeling dirty he scratched at his head imagining bugs crawling among his curls, he wondered once more why he had been left behind, he had after all been a good kid, and was expected high grades in school.

'You get used to it.' Jack offered, Tommy wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

'Have you ever considered going into care?' Tommy asked. 'It must be better than this.'

Jack shook his head. 'Old man Shundi said care homes are evil and ran by people who sell children for sex.'

'Shundi gets money from you for living here, though.' Tommy countered. 'You have to beg and steal to live in a junkie den.'

'How old are you?' Jack asked incredulous, 'how do you know about drug dens if you are from a good home?'

Tommy shrugged, 'I have watched T.V.' He quickly changed the subject, choosing to sit on the cleanest part of the floor he could find. 'What was your mum like?' He poked a finger into a cigarette burn in the dank carpet.

Jack glanced sideways at him, Tommy was finding out quickly that his new friend was far from being an open book and as he waited for an answer he took note of how vulnerable Jack looked, standing holding the ugly, fluffy, beige bear the gypsy woman had given him.

'My parents died in an accident when I was seven, I don't remember them much.'

Tommy felt a burst of annoyance at him, he wanted to be friends with Jack, but he couldn't break his shell, this confession felt like a lie, but he persisted, 'how did they die?' He asked, goading something, anything from Jack, perhaps just to take his mind from the reality he found himself facing.