Sickest Addictions: Sympathy For The Devil

Chapter Two

Music played throughout the empty house. The gentle, soothing instrumental of pianos and violins. A glass of dark maroon liquid swirled around in his hand, as he sat there in silence at the long dining room table. Only the music was heard, and was all that he wanted to hear. It blocked out the quiet whispers going on in his head. Usually, it helped if he got drunk. But knowing that he was on careful watch, he thought it'd be best to be sober than to get a pink slip on the first day home.

The music seemed to be soothing him anyways. There was no need for harsh liquor to ease his troubles. The red wine was doing just fine, and the taste was far better than the burn of whiskey or rum.

But suddenly, his assumptions of the drink were proven wrong. Just like a wave of a powerful tide, sudden anxiousness washed over him. Then, out of all the whispers, one had descended, and overpowered his thoughts.

It was a female's voice. One soft, yet frightened as she called out her brother's name.

"Jackson! Jackson!" She pleaded for his help. "Jackson! Jackson!" She cried.

The voice pained him to hear. His closed eyes squeezed tighter together, wishing for the screaming to stop. But deep down he knew that when it did, the episode was far from being over.

"Jackson...." He heard the same voice, but this time it was quiet and calm.

His breathing came out in shaky sobs. Cries in which he didn't know he was letting out, even as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. Slowly, he opened his eyes, dreading the sight in front of him. A little girl stood there. Her hair was long, a light brown while her eyes took the color of a bright, piercing green.

"Why are you crying, Jackson?" The girl asked in her soft, petite voice. Her eyes as innocent as her tone.

Jack let out a choked up sob, unable to answer the child's question. He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his face like hot waterfalls. Quiet whimpers left from him as he sobbed.

Another voice had come through, taking over the memory of his younger sister. Instead, it was a man's voice who now spoke.

"Worthless, you are worthless," He spat. "Such a fool to let your feeling get in the way, now she will pay the price!" He shouted. A scream of terror followed after it, the source of it coming from his sister.

"Jackson!"

Jack whimpered, shaking violently as the memories replayed in his head. His burning green eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to get away from the voices. Though they only got louder, causing him to grip tightly onto his ears as he rocked back and forth to try and escape their terrible screams.

"You're not real -- You're not real," He repeated through clenched teeth, breathing heavily as he spoke to calm himself.

A sudden loud knock on the door had brought him out of his mind, causing him to flinch. He jumped up violently in his seat like a startled kitten. His knees hit hard beneath the table, causing the glass -- along with it's bottle -- to tip over and shatter over the floor, staining it with the deep red liquid.

Slamming his hands down against the table, Jack let out a frustrated sigh as his teeth gritted together in annoyance. (Even though he was somewhat grateful that the voices had stopped). He got up after opening his eyes to see the mess that he had made. Quickly, he rushed to the kitchen to grab the broom and a rag before moving on to clean his mess.

But thus, another dreadful knock on the door had made him drop the cleaned up glass. He cursed under his breath, glaring in the direction of the door as he muttered in his native language. Whoever was at the door was beginning to get impatient. Now they were finger-banging the doorbell, along with cop knocking as hard as they could. It had made Jack cut his hands on the glass he quickly tried to pick up.

After throwing the shards away, Jack grabbed the rag to wipe his hands with on his way to the door. He opened it, a bit too quick and aggressively. Already he was aggravated with the constant pounding and ringing. He didn't care if it made him look bad, he was far beyond annoyed. Even more so, because even after he had opened the door, the young man behind it kept on ringing its bell.

Jack raised his brow as if it ask, "Really?" The boy's persistent knocking was getting on his last nerve, though the other didn't seem to care, or be fazed by the death glare he was receiving.

"One more," He said after pausing for a moment to speak, then pressed the button one last time, signalling another long, loud and irritating ring.

The older man's eyebrow twitched at the doorbell's piercing sound. He remained silent until the end, and until the young man shifted his attention to the homeowner. The boy smiled a closed-mouth smile, shoving his hands in the pockets of his worn-out blue jeans.

"You Jack?" He asked, rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

The green eyed man nearly scoffed at the question. He nodded his head, holding back a chuckle. Jack didn't know what amused him more. The fact that they had chosen him to be the infamous caretaker, or the attempt of the young man trying to hide ever knowing the patient.

Hades smiled once more, the dimples in his cheeks sinking in. His light blue eyes trailed from green ones, down to the man's hands, seeing that they were cut up, and bleeding in the slightest.

"Hurt yourself?" He asked, receiving a confused look in response. The young man gestured towards the other's hands. The greened eyed man blinked, looking down to the towel, having been immune to pain. He had forgotten about his cuts from the glass.