Hush

Jack: Two Weeks Later.

Jack had been dumped into the local orphanage a week after he killed the police officer, the first week he spent his time in a strange cell, heavily sedated most of the time, while his future was decided by court ruling. The event was marked in the books as an accident that was not Jack's fault, the officer who he had pushed down the stairs had refused to take further action, and when Jack asked about Tommy he was told the boy had been bought by the SMRP as he had the perfect qualities they needed. Jack, having no relatives, had been sent to Pickadilly Orphanage and everyone there was already anticipating his arrival. The kids somehow knew about the event that took place with the officer, everything that is, except that he wasn't a cold blooded murderer or a son of a junkie whore. So for the first couple of days Jack had a seemingly lonely and quiet time to reflect on what had happened. He did so in the quiet of the small library of donated books, where most kids tended to avoid. In his time alone among the books he had learned that this particular orphanage had a dark history. In the past children were used as experiments, others were sexually abused by both the rich and powerful and the preachers alike, and the orphanage itself exceeded the capacity of children it should take in, with well over eight hundred orphans for a building meant only to house two hundred during the times of war. Back in the days, nuns used to run the place, said to have been strict and ruled with canes and the word of God. But deep down sinister events were taking place, rituals and sacrifices were common, and groups of up to ten children went missing regularly, never to be seen again, and with the support of the rich and perverse politicians lining the money pot of the orphanage, there were too many blind eyes and dropped investigations. Little wonder then, why the place gave Jack the creeps. Now, the orphanage was ran by a small handful of people, there wasn't even one hundred children in care here any more, and the building was eerily quiet, haunted with the memories of the past.

It was the fourth day of Jack's stay at the orphanage that things began to change for him, he began to be noticed. Out of all the children in the orphanage only two of them spoke to him while the rest either averted their gaze or threw him judgmental glares. Today Jack was noticed by two more residents, and they proclaimed themselves the hardest boys in the home. He was just leaving the communal showers when his first incident with them took place. They approached him, he knew their names but he referred to them as Freckles and Spots since that's what they had.

Freckles appeared to be the boss in this duo that tormented the other residents daily, and it was him that caused the scene.

'Look Damon, the white guy who has been here two weeks still can't wash the black off.' Together they laughed loudly and fist bumped each other.

'Get out of my way.' Jack said, no stranger to racial slurs or being the brunt of poor and overused jokes.

'Or what, Black Jack?' Spots snorted, his pig nose pointing up at such an angle you could see the wet bogies he hadn't yet picked to feast on.

'Ain't gonna do shit to us, we'll tell Mr. Williams you started it.' Freckles blocked the exit.

Jack laughed aloud. 'Listen to you both, acting like I already plan on wasting my time with you clowns.' Shaking his head he pushed past them, knowing what would happen, he heard a memory of Shawty's voice in his head, his brain recalling the street fights they attended. Don't ever turn your back on an enemy, keep your eyes trained to their body language, it will betray their next move, and how they plan to fight.

'Don't turn your back on us, Nigger.' Spots hissed, and sure enough as Jack anticipated, one of them shoved him.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he turned slowly and deliberately, and kept his eyes on Freckles. 'Do you even know how to throw a punch?'

Freckles scoffed. 'Yeah, and I've killed people too.' He folded his arms, looking to his friend for approval.

Spots laughed, but it sounded forced as he looked around anxiously.

'Did you use a knife or a gun?' Jack asked taking a step closer to them. He was smaller than they were, scrawny where they were beefy and overfed, and though he guessed they were older than him, he could tell he had matured much quicker than them. They hadn't endured street life, it was obvious in their body language, they had never had to fight someone who knew how to fight back, they were mere scavengers going after those that looked weak and vulnerable.

'Gun. I still have it, I'll shoot you in your sleep if you try anything.' Freckles threatened weakly as he rushed his words, his voice hitting a higher octave as his fists tightened over his thumb at his side, showing Jack which fist to be aware of if things escalated, which he knew was inevitable.

'Really?' Jack said, he wasn't afraid, 'see I like to use a knife, it's slower, more intentional, more satisfying.' He grinned at them, making use of the rumours that had been spread about him before he had even arrived. Spots took a step away, face draining of colour, he looked to Freckles who stood rigid, tensing his chubby biceps.

'Come on Elliot,' Spots urged, reaching for his friend's shoulder. 'Leave it.'

'Shut it, Damon.' Freckles shrugged him off, he wanted to make himself king of the ridiculous castle that Jack had been dumped in. He threw a punch at Jack's face and Jack, already expecting it, easily stepped aside taking the opening to Freckle's unguarded and sloppy form he swung at Freckle's cheek with an open- handed palm punch, his precise and quick movement affording him two solid jabs to the boy's unprotected face. Freckles stumbled back looking shocked, his hand came up to his cheek, already red from the strikes. Jack waited as the ginger kid steadied himself, re-schooled his expression and tried once again to swing his thumb tucked fist at him. Seeing this amateur mistake for a second time, Jack allowed the connection, and Freckles let out a hiss of pain shaking his hand and looking at his thumb that now sagged in an awkward and unnatural position, Jack gave a slight laugh and shook his head, surely that was a sign he was done here. Thinking the two boys would let him leave he turned away, and that was his mistake. One of the boys yanked Jack back and they both stepped in front of him, shoving him into the cold wall in an attempt to give him no space, and in doing so the collision knocked his head against something thick and sharp, he rubbed his eyes seeing black dots across his vision, nausea rose in him as he lowered himself to the floor, dazed.

'You're nothing but a weak junkie.' Spots shouted as he snorted up phlegm and spat on Jack who was no longer coherent, while Freckles kicked him in the face, and followed up with a slap to his already aching and bleeding head. Even as Jack lost consciousness the duo continued to beat him while he was down, the silence around them not deterring them.

'Your mama was a whore.' Freckles hissed down at Jack's still form as Spots laughed as he tried to come up with another insult, only to add, 'yeah.'

It was only when Jack's blood began to form a dark puddle around him that the pair of them stopped, they looked to one another and their eyes widened in realization at how far they had went with their assault. Freckles gave Jack one last solid kick to the ribs before pulling his friend quickly out of the crime scene, their footprints taking evidence with them.