Dear Jack, Count Me In

Jacks P.O.V

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I was making a sandwich in the kitchen when Zack calls me. I press “Answer” and hold the phone to my ear.

“You need to go pick up Alex. I’ll give you the address, but you have to hurry.” Zack’s panicked voice tells me.

“Wait, what? What happened.” I ask. I doubt Zack knew I was making a sandwich - I mean seriously, he should know not to mess with me when I become a chef. This must be important. Well damn. Wait, what’s wrong with Alex? I feel my heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know. He just called me saying that he couldn't stay at his house. He was crying.” Zack rambles.

“Ok. Give me the address. I’m leaving now.” I tell him as wrap the sandwich in a paper towel, take off my apron (it says “Kiss the Cook”), and grab my car keys.

I leave, locking the door behind me. I get into my black Jaguar and speed off to Alex’s house.

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I pull into the cracked driveway just as another car, a beat up chevy truck, pulls into the lawn. A man with thinning hair and a patchy beard got out of the car. He looks as if he didn’t know what a shower was. I go to get out of the car when I see Alex’s face from the the upstairs window, it was fear stricken. I quickly get out of the car. The man looks at me.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks menacingly.

“I’m one of Alex’s teachers,” I tell him, walking closer the the house. “I wanted to come check on him, because he was hurt in P.E. earlier today.”

I glance over my shoulder at the window, Alex is still there. I meet eyes with him and signal for him to come down.

“Well, he’s fine. No need to worry. You should just leave now.” He says nervously.

“Well, I want to see him.” I stall.

I had no idea where I was going with this. Suddenly Alex comes out the door. A towel is wrapped around his upper arm and his shirt was covered in blood. My heart falls to my stomach as he stumbles out of the door. I give his Dad a dirty look. He looks at Alex with a questioning look.

“Oh, boy. What did you do, cut yourself?” He says innocently.

“You lying bastard, you did this.” Alex growls.

“Alex, get in the car.” I tell him, I stand so that my back it to him. Alex starts to go to the car, but his Dad stops him.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” The man yells at Alex.

“He’s not staying here with you.” I declare. I’m not letting Alex stay here with this two wit fucking bastard. Alex looks like a broken down, beaten boy, that just needs a break. Jesus Christ. And I thought I was mean.

“You really think I would hurt my own son. He’s lying. He just wants attention.” He yells, motioning to my car.

“Fuck off, I’m not listening to this anymore,” I yell. I walk over to Alex and say determined, “You’re coming with me.” Alex keeps his head down but nods. I reach for his arm, gently taking his wrist in my hand. I start to walk towards the car, but his Dad stops us.

He says, “Get the fuck away from my son.” I let go of Alex, punching the man square in his jaw. He stumbles back, falling on a pile of mulch. I reach for Alex’s wrist again, unaware of the fact that I grab his hand. I lead him to my car, opening the passenger door for him. He gets in and I close the door. I walk over to the other side, getting in on the drivers side.

Before we leave, I notice he’s still upset. Why’s he upset? I’m basically saving him, getting him away from his abusive father. His mix of emotions send me on a loop, trying to find out what’s wrong.

Finally, I ask, “What’s wrong?” Alex looks up at me.

“My Dad...he’s hurt.” I quirk my eyes. What?

I say, “We’re leaving here...you won’t have to see him again.” I rest my hand on his. Alex quickly moves his hand away, cowering.

He says, “D-don’t touch me…” I frown. I get it...he’s not used to a...male’s touch that isn’t meaning to hurt him...right? He continues, “I...I just want to leave. Please drive,” he whimpers. I nod, cranking the car.

I drive back home.

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He whimpers.

Shit, Jack, pull yourself together. Alex is sitting on my bed, while I stand in front of him like I’m lost. Okay, think. Would would Thomas DeLonge do? He’d grow a pair and handle the situation. I walk to the cabinets, pulling out a first aid kit. Looking to the left of the drawer, I see a photo of my old boyfriend. I huff, ripping it, and throw it into the trash. I grab the first aid kit and walk back to Alex.

Kneeling in front of him, I say, “You...can you please give me your arm?”

He slowly gives me his arm. I unwrap the bloody towel from his arm. I examine the cut. It was still bleeding, but it wasn't deep enough to need stitches. I take out the bottle peroxide. I hand Alex a clean towel.

“Put this between your teeth, this is going to hurt.” I tell him.

He nods and bites the towel.

I pour a small amount of the peroxide on the paper towel. As soon as the liquid touches the cut he screams out in pain. The towel that was once in his mouth, falls to his lap. I jerk my hand away from him. More tears run down his face.

“I’m sorry…” I say.

He shakes his head.

“I have to put it back on the cut to finish cleaning it.” I tell him sadly. I hate seeing this boy so….broken.

“Ok, I’ll try and keep the towel in my mouth this time.” He whispers. He picks up the towel from between his legs and places is back between his teeth.

I take the towel and slowly place it back on the cut. He only whimpers this time. I clean the cut and bandage it. I stand up to go put the first aid kit away. When I come back, he’s got his legs pulled up to his chest and he’s sobbing. I’m a little scared to go comfort him.

I settle for sitting beside him on the bed.

“Why are you crying?” I ask quietly.

Alex looks up at him, slightly scoffing, “That’s a stupid question.” It seems like my ‘stupid’ question got him feeling slightly better.

“I’m hungry. Do you have any food.” He asks quietly.

I nod enthusiastically. What kind of man would I be without food? Uh, hello?! One word. Nutella.

“I can make you some food. Also I think you may need some new clothes to wear.” I say, looking at his blood covered shirt.

He nods and smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

I stand and walk over to my closet. I flip through shirts. I grab a plain black V-neck. I hand the shirt to Alex. He holds the shirt up and studies it.

“You can wear that for now. Do you need to take a shower?” I ask. I bite my lip.

“Uh, yeah. I think I do actually.” He laughs.

“Follow me.” I tell him.

He stands and follows me to our bathroom.

“You can use this towel,” I motion to the navy blue towel on the sink, “and this knob is cold, the other is hot.”

He nods.

“This is the shampoo and this is the soap.” I tell him.

“I think I could’ve figured that out on my own.” He says.

I laugh. “Yeah. I guess so.”

I leave and bring in his clothes ( I had grabbed him a pair of my sweatpants.) I set them on the sink.

I leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I try to steer my mind away of what’s going on behind those closed doors.

I go downstairs to make dinner.