99 Steps

Step 2: Listen

"Home sweet home, right?"  Mark stepped aside, letting Jack walk into the small, two level house. "Your stuff should be down in your room, they usually bring it straight here."

Jack could feel his stomach turn. "They bring my stuff here?" he thought he didn't say it out loud, but Mark nodded his head.

"Yeah. Well, your room is down stairs at the end of the hall, you'll see the bathroom for you is across the hall, and the living room is the other way." He kicked off his shoes, walking upstairs.

"And up here," He stopped, waiting for Jack, who moved much slower. Mark cleared his throat when Jack was half way up the stairs, "Um, up here is my room, the other bathroom, the kitchen and dining room."

"What about a laundry room?" Jack pulled on his sleeves, looking at the grains in the wooden floor.

"We don't have individual washing machines, there's a laundry mat that we use." Fear struck through Jack - but Mark didn't sense it. Jack thought of all the early mornings he would wake up with blood stains on his sheets and shirts, and vomit on his pillow. Usually he could wash them without any question about it, but now? Now he would have to really hide it from Mark.

"-We can cook our own food but he have to go get what ever from the office, which is actually in the same building as the laundry mat. There's also places near by that I can drive to." Mark smiled again, "What do you wanna do tonight? For dinner I mean?"

Jack just frowned, still looking at the ground. It was going to be one of those things wasn't it?

"Not trying to be rude but it seems like you haven't eaten in a while, so if you only want to have a little bit you can, but it's important that you eat at least three meals a day. I mean it's a big thing, you should at least try. I just-"

"I get it." Jack turned, slowly walking down the stairs to his room. He prayed to god that nobody went through his bags, because if they did they probably took all his stuff, and that would not be good.

Opening his suitcase, he smiled for the first time that day. Everything was right in its place. He grabbed his sleeping pills, taking three, not needing water to swallow pills by now. Jack tucked the bottle back into its spot, not bothering to zip the bag shut, and pulled back the blankets on his bed. The small man curled into a ball, and closed his eyes. One, he was extremely tired from the trip here, and two, the pills had extremely quick effect.

Mark plugged his phone in, turning off his bedroom light and deciding to ask Jack if he thought about what he wanted. He walked down the stairs quietly, and tapped on the door.

"Jack?" When there was no reply, Mark pushed the door open. Jack was sound asleep under his blankets. Mark noticed that his suitcase was opened. His brown eyes looked at the man once more before kneeling down and pushing open the flap.

Mark's chest twisted and his eyes widened. Bottles of pills, bags of stuff, bottles of alcohol, and probably more stuff that Mark didn't really want to look for - but he did. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he also felt like it was a part of his job to know what he was dealing with.

Mark pushed aside some clothes, letting out an audible gasp. There was at least three razors, different sizes, with different amounts of stains.

Jack wasn't actually asleep, so he knew that Mark was in his room. He was on that thin line between awake and asleep.

He heard a gasp and opened his eyes, not seeing Mark standing. Jack fought against the pills, which was one of the boys' most hated things, and pushed back the blankets. He stood up, Mark instantly standing up.

"Jack, you said you were depressed, but... why didn't you tell me about that? I'm supposed to be here to help you. We just met and I understand it can be hard to open up with stuff like this, but.." Mark's voice was shattered, but the common feeling of anger boiled in Jack's blood.

"Why are you going through my shit?" Jack yelled, tears threatening to spill already.

"Jack I'm sorry, but I just-" Mark started, putting his hands up.

"Go on, tell me I'm a fucking freak! You know you want to! Just fucking say it!" Jack screamed, this was how it always was, he wouldn't make any noise, then somebody would find out something, call Jack insane, and leave. Mark hadn't done it yet though, but Jack knew it would happen soon.

"Jack, you're not a fre-"

"Just fucking yell at me, call me insane! Don't say you don't want to! Everyone does! Don't you dare treat Jack like anything other than shit!"

"Sean!" Mark was shocked, why did this boy get so upset and go from so quiet and withheld to putting himself down so quickly? All Mark wanted to do was have him listen.

Jack's eyes were red, making the blue pop more. Tears streamed down his face, making his cheeks puffy. His face held the same look that a little kids would if you promised them a puppy and brought home a dead crow instead - which was indeed weird, but at the same time it was a look of being betrayed. Pain, hate, sorrow, and slowly seeping into his eyes was a drowsy look.

"Sean, Jack. I'm sorry, okay but I just want to explain myself. I know I'm already stepping into your territory so much. I understand how that can make you mad. Alright? But I'm here to help. Will you please at least try to work with me? Please?"

"Fuck you." Jack turned, the pills really kicked into effect and it almost pained Jack to ignore his longest friends, so he laid down under the covers. Almost instantly he fell asleep.

This place was a place for people to recover, and taking all his stuff wouldn't help, so Mark just left it. The boys would have to work at their own pace, maybe Jack would have to stay for longer than a few months. People have stayed with their buddy for a couple of years at some points. It was all about healing without being rushed.

Mark turned, leaving everything in its place. He decided he wouldn't be any more of an ass, so he just walked out. Making his way up the stairs, he chose to not make the Irish man eat tonight either. Mark decided that he would write a note for Jack, explaining how he was sorry, and hoped that they could do something together. Even if it was going out for breakfast and going to the carnival.

"Right, because he's going to be okay with me once he wakes up." Mark shook his head at himself, searching through his bedroom for a notebook. He finally found one, flipping it open to the first clean page, and began writing. Thoughts whirled through his head, how did such an innocent, scared looking boy hold so much hate? And how could he seem to start to be more comfortable, then just snap like that?

'I'll just have to wait and learn for myself.' Mark told himself as he read over the letter, deciding that it wouldn't get any better if he rewrote it, so he ripped it out, and quietly brought it to Jack's room.