Red Is The Color Of Sin | septiplier

10 | the whole story

| @gorehippie's chapter |

"You have a habit of running off when things get tough," Mark sighed with one arm around Jack.

"I don't know what to do," Jack whimpered with tears pricking at his eyes.

Mark sighed, "I hate to say it, but you're going to have to go back and face him. I'm sorry."

Jack nodded into Mark's shoulder, "I know, I just want you to hold me for a bit longer."

"I'll stay as long as you like," Mark whispered in a soothing tone, "all night if I have to."

6:30 pm

Jack's arm shook as he reached for the front door handle. He opened the door to see his dad sitting at the table, head in hands.

"Back from your smoking session?" he asked bitterly.

Jack shook his head slowly, "I don't smoke..."

"But you do sin, with that boy. You have a lot of nerve to come back," his father stood, slamming his fists angrily against the table.

"I-I'm sorry," tears begged to escape from Jack's eyes as he blinked them away.

His dad walked over to him, grabbing his hoodie and pulling him close, "I've worked so hard to raise you, and you go off and do something like this? Do you understand what this will do to my reputation?"

"I'm sorry," Jack shook his head, not at all protesting his father's death grip on his sweatshirt.

His father shoved him back and began to run his fingers through his hair, "I don't even know what to say to you right now. There's got to be a way to fix you, I know there is. This whole rebel teen thing will blow over, and you'll marry a beautiful woman to have kids with."

"I'm not broken," Jack mumbled, a single tear rolling down his face.

A sharp sound echoed throughout the house and a painful sting of a hand sat on Jack's left cheek. His face felt like it was on fire, and he brought his hand up to his face. More tears began to stream down his face.

"Go upstairs. I don't want you in my sight. We'll talk about this tomorrow," he hissed.

Jack began to walk upstairs, but his arm was grabbed once he got in arms reach of his father.

"Phone," he demanded.

Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over, not wanting to press his luck. His dad let go of his arm and Jack ran up the stairs. His face was stained with tears as he locked the bathroom door behind himself.

Not bothering to even look in the mirror Jack turned the shower on and ripped off every single bit of clothing he had on.

He got in the shower and let the scolding water roll down his back, turning it bright red. His brown hair slowly turning black the wetter it got. Jack stared at the wall opposing him, as his tears began to stream once more. This time his soft whimpers were masked by the water.

Jack's face stung, and he just wanted to call Mark or at least text him. He couldn't, all he could do was stand there in the shower crying.