In Another Life IV

Chapter 3

"All right, let's ditch the kid here and head off for some drinks," said Mr. Napier, as they returned to the run-down building he and his gang used as a hideout. "All except you, Jack," he said, as the boy shoved Harleen into a vacant room. "You're staying here."

"What?" demanded Jack, angrily.

"Kid needs a babysitter," retorted Mr. Napier, grinning. "You're the closest in age, so you'll do."

The other henchmen started laughing, which only increased Jack's fury. "Dad..." he began.

"Sir," corrected Mr. Napier, lighting another cigarette.

"Sir," repeated Jack. "Why can't we just tie the kid up and..."

"Because kids need someone to look after 'em," interrupted Mr. Napier. "Or so they tell me. You did just fine on your own after your mother...uh...tragically went missing."

He chuckled, and the henchmen echoed him. "Anyway, we promised George that his kid wouldn't be harmed," continued Mr. Napier. "Who knows what kinda trouble she could get up to on her own? So you need to stay here and watch over her, Jack. Trust me, it's for the best."

"Sir..." began Jack again.

"It's for the best," repeated Mr. Napier. He was smiling, but there was something about his tone that hinted at danger if further pressed. Jack clearly knew the warning signs of this, and merely nodded.

"Yes...sir," he growled, taking a seat against the wall.

"There's a good boy," said Mr. Napier, laughing. "C'mon, guys."

The gang's mocking laughter became distant, and gradually faded away, leaving only Harleen's terrified sobs.

"Cut it out, will ya?" growled Jack, fishing around in his pockets for a cigarette. He lit it and began smoking angrily. Harleen had stopped crying when she saw the match being lit – the recent cigarette burn was still very painful, and she knew better now than to irritate a man when he was smoking.

Jack noticed her terrified glance. "What?" he snapped. She didn't say anything, but brushed her hand against her cheek, trying to wipe away her tears without touching her burn. Jack noticed.

"Look...uh...that ain't gonna leave a mark," he muttered. "Give it time, and it goes away."

"How would you know?" snapped Harleen.

Jack snorted. "He's done that to me a million times," he retorted. "That's how he taught me to behave growing up. How he taught me not to cry, or complain, or bother him at all..."

He trailed off, puffing on the cigarette. "Why is he so mean?" whispered Harleen.

Jack snorted again. "Because he's a sick bastard," he replied.

"You shouldn't say bad words like that in front of me," said Harleen.

"You're gonna have to hear 'em sometime, kid," he retorted. "A lot, if you're gonna be hanging around here. You might as well get used to it."

"I don't wanna be here," whispered Harleen, as she clutched her knees tightly against her chest. "I wanna go home."

"Can't always get what you want, kid," retorted Jack. "Get used to disappointment."

They were silent. Harleen was scared of the boy, and of her situation, and tried to cry silently so he didn't notice.

"What's in the bag?" he asked suddenly. She looked up to see him pointing at her backpack, which she had already packed and put on when the thugs had entered her room. She had forgotten she was wearing it, and was suddenly filled with relief.