Verboten (Jalex)

Chapter 8

“How often does he do it?” Jack asked softly, brushing a tear from Alex’s chin. Despite his protests that he was used to his father’s abuse, and it didn’t bother him anymore, tears were still leaking from his eyes.

Alex choked on his breath: his crying was getting to the awkward struggling-for-breath stage. “Whenever he’s angry,” he managed, nuzzling his head into Jack’s side. Jack stroked his hair gently, running the mahogany strands through his fingers, admiring the shade.

“How often is he angry?” Jack pressed, softly but firmly. His head was in a bit of a mess from the new information. He knew he should report this but he was sure Alex would refuse.

“Usually every day,” Alex sniffed. His fingers had found the untucked hem of his shirt and he fiddled with it while he talked. “It’s not always bad, sometimes he just slaps me and then sends me to my room. Other times, it’s worse.” Both of them glanced towards his heavily-bruised arm.

“What about your mum?” Jack asked, his legs starting to cramp from the awkward position. He resolved not to move until he knew Alex was comfortable with it.

Alex hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I know he hits her sometimes, but she works very late, so she’s not around much. Most of the time when Dad’s angry she can calm him down but she’s usually not there when I need her.”

“Doesn’t she stop him beating you?” Jack asked, appalled. He would have understood if she tried to save Alex but couldn’t, but from what Alex was saying, it sounded like—

“No, she doesn’t.” Alex didn’t sound upset by this in the least. “She knows he does it, I guess she just lets him vent his anger on me.” Jack’s anger flickered up like a match being struck; mothers were meant to love their children unconditionally, not let their husbands mistreat them.

Jack let his memories turn back to when Alex had first joined; had he had any strange bruises then? Now that he thought of it, Alex had always been very covered up, even in the boiling heat.

“It’s not that bad, honestly, Jack,” Alex cut into his mind. He had closed his eyes and was relaxed against his chest, and Jack was thankful to see that his tears had stopped. However he was simultaneously heartbroken: that was probably the most affection Alex had received in a long time, maybe for as long as he could remember.

“It is bad, Alex,” Jack corrected him gently. “It’s really bad.” Alex shook his head. “Do you want me to tell anyone?” He suspected he knew what the answer was before he was given it.

Alex sat up, detaching himself from Jack, and sat down opposite him. “No, please don’t tell anyone, Jack. It would mess everything up.”

“Why would it mess everything up?” Jack shifted into a more comfortable position as smoothly as he could, his legs nearly completely seized up by now. Alex looked scared now and his eyebrows were creased together, a line appearing up his glabella.

“Because loads of people would get involved, and it would disrupt my news, and it would be all over the news and everything.” Alex ran a hand over his face. “I’d just hate the whole ordeal.”

Jack nodded slowly. His mind was in turmoil: he knew he was meant to report this, and everything inside of him was screaming to report it, and make Alex safe. But now there was a new voice in his head, while a lot quieter than others, was much more prominent. He knew telling might make Alex better physically, but psychologically it would set him back terribly.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jack decided, smiling at Alex reassuringly. No , howled the majority of the voices. Go Jack! one cheered.