Lockjaw (Joshler)

42. Faith

***Trigger warnings for mentions of past self harm and suicide attempts, mentions of self harm scars, and suicidal thoughts.***

Start the song. It's Bad Blood by Rosie Diamond.

A month. Josh didn't hear a single word from any member of his family for a month. It wasn't by any means a record for him, but it was proof that his dad wasn't going to let him see Abbie again for a very long time. It was March now, and Josh hadn't even heard her voice over the phone.

If it wasn't for Tyler, Josh would probably be in the morgue by now, his corpse rotting away as no one came in to claim it. For the past month, he'd been seeing Tyler at least four times every single week, not including the times he hadn't shown up due to migraines but had called as soon as he was able to. For a month, he'd remained constant. He'd given Josh some semblance of stability that he'd been severely lacking for a very long time. If Tyler said he was going to be there, he was, and if he wasn't, he always called as soon as he could to make sure Josh knew why. Josh needed that.

After a month of feeling absolute relief and safety at the announcement of a visitor, of Tyler, Josh was led into the visiting room to see the very last person he would ever expect to find in this place. He didn't say a word as Blackett uncuffed him, and the uncomfortable silence lingered as he stiffly sat down at the visiting table. His visitor looked half frightened and half hesitant, swallowing nervously as he studied Josh's face carefully with dark eyes.

"Hey," Josh said finally, his voice small and tight.

"Hi," Jordan replied quietly, shifting anxiously in his seat. "I-um-Abbie wanted me to come make sure you're alive."

Then Josh understood. Jordan wasn't here because he wanted to be. He was here because Abbie needed him to do this for her. He wasn't here as Josh's little brother. He was here as Abbie's big brother. There was a difference.

"I'm okay. Is she?" Josh asked nervously, looking down at his hands instead of at his brother.

Jordan was quiet for a moment, still watching Josh like he was expecting him to snap and kill everyone in the room at any second. He was absolutely terrified to be here with Josh, too frightened to even remember to hide how afraid he was. Josh felt sick.

"Sort of," Jordan replied quietly, pushing his wild curls off of his forehead with a shaky hand.

Jordan flinched when Josh stood from the table, watching in fearful confusion as Josh walked back over to Blackett. He held his wrists out to the guard. "Can you put the cuffs back on so he knows he doesn't have to be scared?" He asked Blackett quietly.

Blackett seemed surprised by this request, but he did it anyway. He glanced at Jordan as he closed the cuffs, not seeming to understand why this boy who could easily be a carbon copy of Josh was so afraid of him.

Jordan was silent when Josh sat back down in front of him, setting his cuffed wrists down on top of the table. When Jordan still didn't speak, Josh told him, "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. If you don't believe that though, just know that these cuffs are locked on, and my hands have to stay on the table where the guards can see them. Plus, that guy over there wouldn't let anyone hurt you. That's his job."

The younger boy nodded, looking at the cuffs locked around Josh's wrists. His expression changed then, and Josh didn't understand why until Jordan's trembling fingers were touching the plethora of scars covering his forearms so gently that it almost seemed like he thought they'd detonate at any moment.