He was in the backseat of the car, talking with his dad. A huge smile was plastered on his face. He took another bite of his chocolate bar, the pair both laughing at a joke his dad had just said. His his dad's laughter was replaced by a scream unlike any other he had heard.
"Daddy, what's happening," he said worried. He looked forwards to see the windscreen smashed and his dad covered in glass and blood. The car was still moving. Jack was Crying hysterically and screaming
"HELP!" Over and over again. The car collided with other cars and toppled over. Jack felt something hit his arm and bash into his throat, blocking his airway for a second or two. He felt a snap before everything went black.
He woke up in a hospital, his arm bandaged up in a chunky cast and a doctor standing over his bed with an evil smirk on his face.
"We could've kept him alive," he said. "But we wanted you to suffer." The boy had tears streaming down his face before he screamed at the doctor
"I-I-I h-hate y-you!"
Jack woke up from his reoccurring nightmare once more, crying, his bed wet with what he thought was all swear. He calmed his racing heart and climbed out of bed, noticing that his pants were soaked. Jack had peed himself again.
The teen broke down on the floor, crying. He had been getting nightmares and peeing himself ever since the teacher incident.
It took a couple of weeks for Mrs Barnsley to realise, but when she did, she started putting all the clues together.
She came to the conclusion that Jack had post traumatic stress syndrome and upon checking with a specialist, she found herself to be correct.
The doctor told her that sufferers were likely to have side effects of anxiety and depression, which in Jack's case, both symptoms were present.
Jack was distraught. He thought he was over what his stepfather taught him to be a childish and silly habit. His stepfather beat him whenever he wet the bed after the nightmare.
Mrs Barnsley told him it was fine, but he didn't believe her.
*trigger warning*
Mrs Barnsley had confiscated every sharp object Jack owned. He had to do something. Standing up, he pounded his fist on the wall. He caught it on a nail, drawing blood
"I'm worthless," he though tears streaming down his face.
He hit the wall again. A mirror which was placed on the wall, smashed. "I hurt everyone." He accused himself
He picked up a shard of glass and cut deep into his arm
"Daddy." He repeated over and over again in his head as he voluntarily cut his arm with the glass mirror as a crude memorial as to what happened to his father.
Mrs Barnsley came into his room, realising there was such commotion and screamed. She thought there were no more sharp objects left in the house for him to hurt himself, but she was wrong.
She tended to the wounds and the pair sat hugging on the floor, both in tears for hours until Jack signed "I'm sorry and walked out of the house, Mrs Barnsley following him.
YOU ARE READING
Speechless// Jachary
FanfictionHe didn't speak much when he was younger. only a sentence or two a day. When his dad died, he stopped completely. *** "Why doesn't he ever say anything?" "he's mute, Zach."
