Source Of Sorrow [BoyXBoy]

.:2:.

"So I'll be able to take your room?"

"Jasmine, I haven't dec-"

"I will paint it pink and decorate it like a dollhouse!"

"What are you talking about? I still don't-"

"It will be perfect; I'll have tea parties with my teddy bears there."

My father chuckled, as he listened in on my conversation with my cousin. It was not much of a conversation though and more of a 'don't-let-the-other-person-talk' game.

"Jasmine, Jack hasn't decided yet. Even if he does take the opportunity, you shouldn't get too excited. You won't be able to redecorate him room, because he will be back soon."

My little cousin made an annoyed, inhuman noise and manoeuvred her wheelchair into her bedroom.

Jasmine was an orphan. When she was five, she was in a car accident with her dad (who was coincidentally my mum's brother). The paramedics managed to save her, but her father did not make it out alive. However, she did not leave untouched by the terrifying events. Her body, from the waist down, got trapped under the huge weight of one of the car's front seats and she is still paralyzed to this day.

You might be thinking 'what about Jasmine's mother?'. Her mum was alive at the time but, as soon as she found out that Jasmine's father was dead, she killed herself, unable to live without the love of her life. In my opinion, it was incredibly selfish of her. She had a fucking five year old daughter, who had suffered just as much if not more, yet she still decided to make the child face this obscene world by herself. Leaving her was cruel and inhumane.

When my family were informed about what happened, we did not wait very long before taking Jasmine under our care. We were very close with her family and cared about them a lot. Even though the small girl was left disabled and we knew that raising her would cost us a lot, that did not matter. She was part of our family and was extremely important to us.

Now Jasmine seemed like the average, joyous eight year old but, inside, I knew that she was hurting badly. And do you know the worst part?

I could not do anything to make it better.

Back to the present, she could be very irritating: Jasmine always jumped to conclusions. Just because I was offered a "job", I wasn't certainly going to take it. I knew that my family desperately needed the money, but was being forced to help lunatics really worth it? What if none of this was true and all they wanted to do was perform some tests on me, because they assumed that I was crazy? What if the patients were dangerous and even going near them was a major health and safety hazard? What if the boy I was going to help would try to injure me or force himself onto me or kill me?

"Jack, are you alright? You look a bit pale; maybe you should take the pills a little earlier today," my dad interrupted my sudden wave of anxiety, which was consuming all of my rational thoughts. Dad was always very concerned about my health and worked the hardest to provide me with everything crucial for my wellbeing, so did my mom. It was not easy for us, but we managed to survive.

"Do you think I should take the offer?" I questioned sincerely, ignoring his previous worry. After all, my parents' opinions about the subject mattered too.

"Absolutely," he answered without a moment of hesitation. "It will be great for everyone. You will be provided with free medication and general supplies, when you're there, and you'll be making money, which would really be helpful. And don't you think it would be amazing to be able to help someone, who is in the same situation as you, but has it worse? You've always loved helping others; how is this any different?"

"What does mum think?" I did not get to see my mum as often as my dad, because she worked the night shift and slept during the day, to get some rest. That woman was really doing too much for this family. I had wanted to get a job as soon as I turned 16, so that I could help out financially, but my parents were not having it. Their explanation was always along the lines of "we are here to take care of you; you can take care of us in different ways" which I thought was absolute bullshit, as they needed rest more than anything. Apparently my education was more important than everything else, so they did not allow me to get a job as they thought it would distract me form school. It was different now though, as I would be working and learning all at once so, for my family, it was absolutely perfect. Stupid, selfless parents...

"She agrees with me on the fact that it would help everyone," Dad explained.

I could not help but feel pressured into taking the job. It was such a difficult decision and, even though helping the boy was the politically correct thing to do, I was not sure if I was the right person for it.

"Do you want me to drive you to school?" Dad quizzed casually. He asked that question every morning and my answer was always the same, however he never stopped doing it. Sometimes he could be even more strange than me, even though I was the one with a mental disorder.

"No thanks. I'll take the bus." I shook my head.

After collecting up everything I would need for the day and taking my required amount of pills, I exited the small house and made my way to the bus stop. I did not have to wait for long, before the packed vehicle arrived. As soon as I stepped foot inside and paid the correct amount, the bus sped off in the familiar direction of my school, leaving me to nearly lose my balance and collapse onto the floor in a mess of books and papers. I hated bus drivers; they really annoyed me.

Just like I expected, my usual seat was empty, as my friends had saved it for me.

"Hey, guys," I greeted, with a small wave of my hand. Tony, Ben and Jeremy all acknowledged my presence with 'hi's and 'hello's. As far as I can remember we had always been friends. It was just us four and no one else. Maybe our group was not the most popular, but we preferred it that way: no one ever picked on us, people did not approach us often, most of the time we were ignored. But it was better like this, as no one ever suspected us for any mischievous things that happened even though, most of the time, we were actually responsible for them.

Jeremy sat next to me, while Tony and Ben were taking up the seats behind us. I looked over to my best friend, who was very interested in his phone.

"Are you still texting that girl – what's her name again? – Sammy?" I teased, as I nudged Jeremy with a quirky grin.

"No," he muttered but, even though he attempted to conceal his face, I could see that his cheeks had turned a bright crimson.

"Liar," I accused, with a chuckle. Sometimes I really enjoyed making fun of the other guys for certain things. It could be very entertaining on occasions.

Suddenly a thought sprang to my mind. Maybe I could ask my friends for advice on the subject of the mental institution. My thoughts deepened, as the bus zoomed over the road. I trusted these guys and they knew about my illness, however I did not think that I should let them know about the offer directly. After all, I still wasn't sure.

"If you got the opportunity to help someone, and benefit from it, but there was a risk that your life was in danger, would you take the opportunity?" I blurted out, unexpectedly. Jeremy gazed at me with a confused expression, before his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"Yes, I think I would," he replied after a short while. "Sometimes it's good to take risks, if it means that other people will be happy, even if you aren't. Helping other people is really important and, if you were in their situation, you would want to get their help too..." Jeremy paused for a second, as if remembering something. "Why are you asking this anyway?"

"It's nothing, I was just curious," I dismissed, hiding the truth.

"Liar," my friend stated with simplicity, repeating my previous words. "Now tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing, I just have a hard decision to make and I thought that the opinion of a friend might help me make a choice... And I think it has helped."