FTRS One-Shots

It's Just Jack

Okay now just a chapter for Jack

These next few chapters are all scheduled publishes, so when this publishes it's likely that I'm not actually on Wattpad at the moment.

-Leylani R. Porter

I've always been jealous of the stars. They're always in the company of one another, never alone, never sad. Twinkling as they laugh amongst themselves. I envy their friendships. Even in death, a star is loved and leaves a beautiful mark where it dies.

When I die, I'll likely be alone.

Which is a sad thought for a 13 year old to have. But war pressures you into maturing. You can't survive battle after battle acting like a child- even if you are one. Still, maturity doesn't do much to save me from the bitterness of loneliness. I thought I could get my friend's back after saving Gilly's brother's and the prince. It didn't really work out that way.

I don't know why people don't like me. I understand the trickery, the trust I broke. But to hold that against a kid who just wanted his mom back? It feels cruel. I know one day my mom won't be around to keep me company, and I'll be on my own. Humans are social creatures. Our health often changes with how social or antisocial we are.

It hurts so bad, being ostracized like this. Gilly's sister did so much worse than I, and she was forgiven immediately. She was cruel and would've done anything to be better than Gilly. All I wanted was the only person that truly loves me to be back, holding me in her arms and keeping me safe. My guardian angel. My beautiful mother.

It hurts more, the fact that me and Gilly are essentially the same. Switch our genders, and we could pass for each other any day. What is so special about Gilly that I don't have? In that war, as much as I ruined things, so did Gilly. As much as Gilly helped, so did I.

I feel this terrible, heart lurching feeling in my chest most days, like the broken shards of my once beating glass heart are stabbing me inside. It makes me feel sick and terrible. Headmistress Flora says it's guilt. My mom just says it's a broken heart.

I gave up on trying to fix it a while ago. The thing about something broken is that you can try to glue it together again, tape it together, but it'll never be the same. There'll always be cracks in it. Something broken can't be fixed. Not fully, anyways.

I've been a better person, really. It's been a year since the war. I've been trying really hard to be more helpful, keep my rude comments to myself, truly try to reform. It's been working okay for me. Nobody else seems to notice- but how can you notice a change in someone you're never around?

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve. Now I keep the shattered pieces tucked close to me, hidden, safe. I know betrayal. I can keep myself safe from it now. Maybe it's my fault for ever causing anyone reason to betray me. And I'll take the blame for that willingly. I'm not afraid to take responsibility for my actions anymore.

So I'll take the pain, the hurt, in hopes that one day it'll be over and I'll live a better life. Because deep down? I know that I made up for my mistakes. I know I did as much as I could to fix it. It's up to the people around me to decide if they forgive, or if they'll hold their grudges against me. I'm starting to realize that it's their fault if they don't see me for the true person I am:

A hero.