Darkness Is In The Soul

Darkness Is In The Soul Chapter 2

The rain ran wild with my tears, droplets falling down my face. How could this happen? Where was Jake? I knew one thing; I needed to find him. And I needed to find him now. So I dragged myself up off the ground, fresh with a new determination to find Jake, the one thing that mattered.

I ran through the back streets, head whipping back and forth, scanning alleyways, even though I knew my efforts would be futile in the dark. My heart racing, I pumped my legs against the floor and only stopped when I could see little silver things flickering in my vision. I bent double and then stood straight, gulping air. A hand clamped itself over my lips and immediately I began to panic, trying to scream. But it was only muffled, escaping through someone's fingertips. Taken by surprise, I fought back with what energy I had left. Kicking out and scratching, I tried desperately to get away from whoever this person was.

"Hey! Calm down! It's me!"

Jake? It couldn't be.

I slumped in his arms and the grip loosened. I turned, expecting to see him. But it wasn't. It was my father.

"D...Dad? What are you doing out here?"

I gripped his warm coat, the familiar smell of tobacco and expensive aftershave doing little to calm me. He tried to soothe me, stroked my hair.

"I was out looking for you! Don't you know how late it is?! What has Jake done to you? He hurt you didn't he?!"

He was getting all worked up. I couldn't bear the thought of a bad word being said against my Jake. So I set him straight.

"Dad, no no no.... I was supposed to meet him by the pier... as always.... the rain, and the... the screaming.... I found him Dad, he was battered and so... scared; being beaten by these men... they took me away Dad... I don't... I don't know what to do! I ran everywhere looking for him... he's gone!"

There was an heavy flow of tears, yet again. When the worst of my cries had subsided, I looked into my father's face. He looked stricken for a moment, and when he looked down at me, I could see the distress and anger on his face. In the next second though, it had vanished. And in its place was a light expression; there was almost a smile. There was some form of outrage building inside me.

"He's probably sloped off home. He'll call you in the morning. I don't think Jake would be the sort to get into a fight, do you? You do make some great stories."

As if. As if he thought I was lying!

"You don't understand. I saw it! He was dying, Dad! And then when I ran back to the alley he was in, he wasn't there! Please Dad, he could be lying somewhere... he could be... could be..."

I couldn't bring myself to say it. But I had to make my father believe it. Just because I have mental problems doesn't mean I'd dare make something like that up! How could he?! I wasn't a frickin' psycho! Dad started to drag me back to the car. I screamed and lashed out, kicking and punching, scratching and screaming.

But in the end I gave up. I knew there was no use. I couldn't fight anymore;

Jake was gone: dead.

And I accepted it.

I had to.

And then the whole world went black.