Adopted By The Boss

Introducing My Old Hobby

(Trigger Warning. And...I'm kinda morbid when it comes to...pain and death and whatnot...I don't know why. So, I'm not some sicko who enjoys this shit, just so you know. But anyway, just be cautious about this chapter. And if you have any problems with it, don't hesitate to message me about it).

Your POV:

Oh no...I can't tell him. I can't tell Jack. This comment has already got loads of supporters. They've figured it out. Jack didn't want them to know!! I've fucked it up!!

I begin to hyperventilate. Trapped between a dimension of anger and sadness. At the same time I wanted to cry I wanted to hurt something. I wanted...I needed...to hurt myself.

I open the door to Jack's studio, wandering off to go find them. I found them all in the living room watching Spongebob. Now, I would've joined them...if I didn't need to relieve myself first.

"Umm...Jack??" I asked timidly.

"Yeah kiddo?" He responded, politely turning to face me.

"W...where's the bathroom?"

"Oh it's the door straight after my office. You can't miss it."

"Thanks Jack, I'll brb."

I hurried off before he could say anything else. I reached the bathroom, quickly throwing myself inside and locking the door behind me. I heaved out a sigh and let the tears come flowing. After a minute or so of crying, my uncontrollable mind replaced my sorrow with rage, and I looked around the cupboards for Jack's razors. I felt slightly sick, knowing that when he next shaved his face, my blood will be there, even it's not visible. I run the tap and push the blades into my skin. I gasp with pain and pleasure as I drag the blade across my skin, the blood forcing it's way out instantly. Crimson droplets splash into the sink and mix with the water until it becomes a stream of dark vermillion. The sight of the muscles in my arm flexing and twitching with pain, making the wounds open and close on their own, causing more blood to come gushing out, sickened and excited me at the same time. After I had cut once, I didn't need to again straight after. The sight of the first wound was enough to entice and intrigue me, and I simply liked to watch the blood exit my veins. It...calmed me, somehow.

After about five minutes of being in a trance, the flow seemed to slow down a little. This was my cue to clean up. I wrapped my wrist in a shitload of toilet roll, holding it together with toothpaste. This worked if you were careful about it. (Believe it or not, my wrist is actually hurting thinking about this. I don't self-harm, but sometimes my brain can trigger a mild dosage of what the actual pain of the wound must feel like). I wash the blade and the sink, putting everything back where it was. I checked all over for any spots of blood, luckily I had left nothing behind. Pulling my sleeve down, I went to the mirror and checked my face. Besides the tired and haunted gleam in my eyes, I looked pretty normal. So, flushing the toilet, I walked back out.

Something wasn't right. Everyone was still here...except Jack. Where was he?? Then, as if on cue.

"(Y/N)!! Could ya' come in my office for a minute please!?"

Well...back to the orphanage I go. And hey, I've only just gone and disappointed my hero. What the fuck is wrong with me?? Oh yeah...Everything. I tentatively step into the office, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, and waited for Jack to say something.

"(Y/N). You don't have ta' hide it from me ya' know?" He murmured gently.

"H...hide W..what?" I stuttered.

"That people have guessed you recorded in my studio."

"Oh." I realised.

"That people are suggesting you're now somehow related to me."

"I see." I replied, not scared at all anymore.

"And that you hurt yourself."

...

"What?"

"Tissue and toothpaste aren't very suitable materials to hold together."

I look down to see that the toilet roll had broke and fallen through my sleeve, showing off the blood stains.

"I...I...uh..."

I didn't know what else to do. I started crying. I held my arm to my chest and simple sobbed quietly, not looking for attention, but an escape. But I got attention anyway, which was, also, in a way, an escape. And that was Jack coming over to hug me. In that moment, I've never felt so safe or so loved before. It was something I'd never experienced before. But I liked it. Being loved. It's a nice feeling.
So I hugged back, still unsure, however, what he now thought of me.

"I don't tink' any differently of ya', ya' know? I care about you just te' same. I know you've got a few...problems...here and tere'. But I'll help ya' through em'. I promise. We'll get trough' tis' together. But you have ta' help me help you okay?"

"Okay..."

"Can I get a promise?"

"I promise..." I mumbled as I buried my face in his chest, seeking more comfort. That wasn't hard to get as he picked me up and carried my onto his bed. Sitting down, he sat me on his lap and rocked me as I sniffled quietly. Then he started singing, a song I knew all to well.

(Feel free to sing along!!)

"Deep in te' meadow.
Under te' willow.
A bed of grass.
A soft green pillow..."

I didn't hear the rest, as I had practically fallen asleep. But just before I did, I heard him say.

"Life will still hurt you. But I promise, I'll block as many hits, and take as many blows as I can for ya'. Tat' I promise."

Usually I'd have nightmares, every night. But this time, this time I didn't. This time, everything's alright. Yeah...everything's alright.