CHAPTER 3:
One day before the dance. Jacoby came to a few realizations, one; he didn’t have any clothing suitable to wear, two; the dance is tomorrow, and three; he should hope that Cynthia will take Jeromy to the dance, not himself.
Jacoby thought these things as he was admiring a picture of his younger sister Sofi. She had given him it sometime before his father had taken her away. After their mother’s death and Crystela’s departure from them, Jacoby took Sofi under his wing. Even though she was often annoyed with Jacoby constantly mother rabbiting her, he didn’t care. He did whatever it took to keep her save, because he was the only one who cared for her, and he wasn’t about to lose her too.
Jacoby blinked back the thoughts, as he stared to remember the day his good-for-absolutely nothing father tore Sofi from his life. And what does he have left of her? One picture, just one, given to him when they had received their school pictures in the mail. She had given one to Jacoby and one to her father in ignorance of his pure malignance. Her father had glanced at it just for a moment, then ripped it up and cast it into the hearth by his chair.
Jacoby clenched his fist and teeth as he recalled the demonic smirk his father wore as he saw the look on Jacoby’s face when he discovered that his father was taking Sofi, disbelieve and sorrow.
“Come on Sofi,” his father had said in his deep raspy voice as he smoked a cigarette. When Jacoby would recollect those words he felt like they came straight from hell. He hated his father, and reminiscing on these things built up rage in him.
He lashed out at the wall with a scream and gave one hard karate punch into an old board, causing it to split in half. Jacoby slowly took control of his rage, as he rubbed his wrist and lay down. He set the picture frame back on the little short table he kept by his bed side. He knew rage is evil, so he prayed that he would forget about it, if possible. He also remembered to pray that Cynthia will want to take Jeromy to the dance, instead of himself.
Little did he know that his prays would be answered, but for more than he had asked for.
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In and Out of Sorrow and Solitude
Teen FictionJacoby is 13. His mom died when he was 8, and his father left him and took his sister when he was 9. He was spent the last 4 years living alone in a old water mill, relaying on thievery to survive. He was smart enough to homeschool himself and found...
