Hearts & Spades

Bethany Lynn Newcomb was pronounced dead on Thursday, September 18th at 9:46 p.m., she was seventeen years old. The passengers of the car that slammed into the drivers side of her 2009 Prius were in the hospital for injuries, but were expected to go home within the next few days. The cause of the crash was listed as driving while impaired due to the evidence they were able to scrape up from the wreckage, all of it implying that the lean girl behind the wheel had reached for her phone. Of course the device was ruined in the crash and no one knew exactly who she was talking to, who made her advert her eyes from the road for those few fatal seconds. No one but a certain Jack Barakat.

The raven haired boy was sat criss crossed on his unmade bed when he got the phone call, one hand shoveling potato chips into his mouth while the other blew up the cell of a girl who he thought was simply playing the silent game. Though it was obvious that was not the case when a certain Mrs. Newcomb's number lit up his screen, a hysterical, almost inaudible voice filling the silence the minute he answered.

"She's gone, she's gone. She's really gone." the woman sobbed, the sounds of her desperately gasping for breath making her words run together.

"Slow down, Mrs. Newcomb, what are you talking about?" Jack questioned after swallowing, it was clear that something wrong and he could already feel his heart drop to his feet before his assumptions were even proven.

"It's Bethany. She's dead."

Those four words echoed over and over in his head. He hung up after that. It was awful and probably the worst thing he could have possibly done at a moment like that, but his whole body had gone numb, images of the love of his life battered and bruised being hauled off in an ambulance haunted his mind. Jack felt like he might need one himself as he continued to send messages to the girl's number, it hadn't exactly clicked in his mind just yet how useless that truly was. And when it did hit him he didn't have much time to process it before he was dashing off to the bathroom, falling to his knees on the cold tiles in front of the toilet and riding his stomach of everything he'd eaten that night.

Jack's own mother was awoken by her son's screams, she didn't even recognize the sound - it resembled more of an animal in agony than it did her little boy. And she found that not so little boy crumpled up on the floor, and she wasn't sure what was louder - his sobs or the sound of her heart breaking. His face was pale with a tint of green, his dark hair disheveled and hanging in his bloodshot eyes. In his shaking hands were his car keys, still sat in his boxers with a jacket pulled over one shoulder constantly rocking back and forth as his mother watched helplessly. And Mrs. Barakat didn't even have to ask what had him in so much distress because he repeated the same thing over and over again.

"I killed her. I killed her. Bethany is dead and it's all my fault."



Jack didn't sleep that night. His mother had taken the keys, not about to let her son meet the same fate by allowing him to drive in the state he was in. Instead, she herded her son back into his bedroom, stepping over the remittance of his temper tantrum, tiptoeing around shards of broken picture frames and stepping over furniture that had been tossed to the side. The teen fell to the mattress with a thud, his screaming had ceased - maybe because he was starting to let the numbness take over or maybe he just lost his voice. Mrs. Barakat stayed with him, running her hand up and down his spine and humming soft tunes praying her own voice wouldn't fail her now.

"Jack, darling, you've been staring at your breakfast for half an hour now." the fair haired woman sighed, throwing the hand towel she was using into the sink before taking a few steps towards him.

"Can I go see her?" he questioned, his words soft and scratchy thanks to his aching throat. His mother's earlier statement was all but acknowledge as he continued to watch the flakes of cereal swirl around in the bowl.

His mom lifted her hand and ran it through his hair, chubby fingers getting caught in the tangles yet Jack didn't flinch. "Baby, I really don't think you want to..." she attempted to reason, mothers were supposed to be able to fix everything but this wasn't a bump or bruise she could just kiss better.

"I just... I need some closure."



Mrs. Barakat didn't need much convincing to give into the wishes of her youngest son, one look into those helpless almond eyes and it was a lost cause. They drove to the hospital in silence, Jack staring out the window, seemingly out of tears by this point, and his mother afraid to move an inch to even turn on the radio incase that would be all it would take to send her boy over the edge again.

Jack absolutely despised hospitals, the air was always thick and reeked of the stench of disinfectant not to mention the fact that it was occupied by the sick and dying. But this time he didn't do much complaining, instead his eyes stayed focused on his shoes - the ones his own mother had to slip him into and tie as if he was in the third grade all over again. In the past few hours the young boy hadn't done much anything but stare at nothing and mumble under his breath as the crippling sorrow swallowed him whole. Even now he stayed motionless until a small hand was sitting on the small of his back and began to push him forwards, his mother had to pressure him to move at all though she knew it took all her son's energy to take a single step forward.

"Jack." a small voice called out to them as they turned onto yet another hallway, the source being a small woman with all too familiar freckles lining her cheeks, her face seeming to have aged overnight. The frail Mrs. Newcomb wrapped her weak arms around the boy's torso, his shirt quickly becoming damp with with her tears but he didn't mind. Right now he wished that he was small again so he could hide away in someones chest too.

"Paula, I think we should go get some fresh air..." Jack's own mother said softly, prying the woman's weak grip free then leading her towards the entrance once more. The sight reminded him that he wasn't the only one who lost someone they loved so dearly, Bethany was the embodiment of perfection and to think she was gone...he didn't know what to believe anymore.

The tension between the two men could be cut with a knife, Bethany's father had his hands clasped together, his dark eyes glossed over just like his daughters would be when she was about to lose the battle with her tears. "Come here, son." he finally spoke up, not looking in Jack's direction until he inched forward.

Mr. Newcomb had been somewhat like a father to him over the course of the three years he'd known the family. At first he was skeptical, putting Jack through every test possible, but he was only trying to protect his only child - his princess. Though it didn't take long for him to realize the lanky teen's intentions, he loved Bethany and her father decided he could share her. And when he discovered Jack's own father had abandoned him ten years prior, well he stepped into his place. Mr. Newcomb was the one cheering the loudest at his football games, he even bother to take him on a fishing trip, a rather unsuccessful one but the two formed a strong bond none the less.

"I miss her." Jack whispered once the elder had draped his arm around his heavy shoulders. It was stating the obvious, but he had to come to terms with the stinging feeling in his heart eventually, and admitting that he was hurting was only the first step of many.

"Me too." it was strange to see her father like this, even though he was a few inches shorter than Jack the man in his mid forties was heavily built with a broad chest and graying hair lining his jaw. If looks could kill Mr. Newcomb would have people in their graves with one glare, but right now his eyes were cast to the ground. He was nothing but a broken shell of the man he used to be.

A few more moments passed before Jack decided to speak again, there really wasn't much they could say. Nothing would bring her back and that was all either of them wanted at the moment. "Can... can I see her?" he asked hesitantly, pulling on his lip with his teeth.

"Not now, they've taken her to the back. She was an organ donor, they're taking what they can salvage." Mr. Newcomb's voice seemed to be vacant of any emotion, sadly the same couldn't be said for the boy standing next to him.

"What do you mean!? You're just going to let them pick her over like that? Dissect her like some kind... some kind of fucking animal?" Jack's voice trembled like his hands as the emptiness of misery was replaced with meaningless rage.

"Listen, Jack, she would have wanted this..."

The man hardly got much out of his mouth before he was cut off with another protest from the other who seemed more like a helpless toddler throwing a fit rather than an actual threat. "No, no, no, she's mine they can't do this!"

The swirling emotions and eerie silence around them made it near impossible for anyone to keep calm, "She was mine too! And I would give anything to hold my little girl again, but if by doing this someone else can see their child another day, then I'm going to let them take what they need."

He was right, and Jack knew it. Bethany would be mad as fire if she found out she was buried with something that could have been used to save someone else's life. So he didn't say a word more, just nodded.

"Think of it this way, as long as that heart keeps beating...she'll live on."