Pain is Just a Place

Chapter one: The realm of fear

POV: Jack Brewer

It was late; I was tried from a long day at the dojo. My shoulder brushed that of my friend, Kim Crawford's as I walked her home. She glanced at me, having felt the gentle contact of our bodies as much as I had.

I felt the need to break the empty silence. "How have you been?" I asked stupidly, I had been with her as much as she'd been with herself, how could there possibly be anything up in her life that I didn't know about?

"I've been fine." She answered anyway. I nodded. We stopped in front of her door. I turned, to her, fully intending to flash her one of my 'you owe me one' grins, but instead, I was only able to stare dumbly into her chocolate eyes. I blinked, my mouth quivering slightly.

"What's wrong?" She asked. I swallowed, forcing a smile. "Nothing." I told her. Just getting lost in your eyes…

She shrugged. "Thanks for walking me home Jack." She hugged me, and I hugged her back, wishing the hug meant more to her than a friendly gesture. I allowed her to pull away from me, though I wished I could hold her for just a second longer.

She flipped her hair and unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets, slowly and heavily climbing down the porch steps.

(ten minutes later)

"Jack! Where've you been? Do you know how late it is?" Was the first thing I heard when I opened the back door. I stared up at my mother from the steps as she glared down at me, her arms folded and a disapproving scowl on her face. I took the next steps and was equal height with her.

"Sorry mom." I apologized, closing the door. "After practice, we had to stay and help Rudy clean up the place, it was a mess from-" She interrupted me. "That's fine Jack, but you think you could have called me? I was worried sick! I must have called the dojo twenty times, why didn't anyone answer?" She asked.

"The phone in the office hasn't been working too well lately." I shrugging. I put an arm over her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, mom." I told her, playfully smacking my lips on her cheek. She slapped me away, trying to maintain her look of a disapproving parent. She was able to hold it for longer than usual, she seemed to be in a strange mood tonight. She was finally unsuccessful as I continued teasing her lightly. "Jack! Stop!" She laughed, shoving me away.

I laughed, hugging her again then walking into the small living room. "You want to watch a movie?" I asked, plopping down in my usual spot. "Sorry, honey, I have to get up early tomorrow, job interview." She told me. I was slightly disappointed, but very pleased to hear the prospect of a more consistent flow of money into our empty bank account.

"That's great, mom." I told her, getting up and hugging her one more time before she smiled and went to her room. I sighed and fell back on the couch. The living room was my room. Our house was so small, all it had was a kitchen, a small (very small) bedroom and the tiny living room which doubled as my room.

I sighed, thinking of all the ways we could fix the place up if my mom got that job. My mind eventually, however, drifted back to Kim and the dojo. I worked at the dojo as a janitor boy.

When I wasn't at school or the dojo, I was out trying to find a job, or getting into trouble. The latter, for some reason always came more easily to me.

I yawned, putting my hands behind my head for a more comfortable sleeping position. The couch wasn't exactly state-of-the-art comfort. It was old and stiff, with one or two springs sticking out of certain places. I rolled over, still using my hands as pillows.

My nose brushed the couch and I scrunched up in disgust. It stunk of alcohol. I sat up, startled. My mom didn't drink! I bent over and sniffed again. Definitely alcohol. Wha…? I stood up, my eyes wide in terror. It couldn't be! No… not, him, he couldn't have come here! I looked around wildly, suddenly terrified.

I sat back down timidly, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes darting around the room in fear. I swallowed hard, no longer able to make myself sleep. What if he was here? What if… what if.

I closed my eyes. Happy thoughts make happy people, happy thoughts make happy people… I told myself. I opened my eyes, not liking how vulnerable I felt with them shut.

I glanced at the eerie shadows cast on the plain walls through the un-curtained window. I looked away from them, deciding they weren't a good thing to be looking at right now.

I jumped out of my skin when I heard the back door open. I shrank within myself, trying to make the couch swallow me – it didn't.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the person I knew was here to come. "Jack!" My eyes flew open and I let out a terrified cry at the rough voice. Heavy footsteps came closer to me. I whimpered when I was picked up by the man and thrown onto the floor. I could smell alcohol all over him. "Leave me alone!" Cried, scuttling backwards.

"Get back here!" He raged. I had found myself backed against a wall. "Leave me alone!" I bawled, sliding down and covering my face. The man kicked me repeatedly, making me whimper in fear and pain. I stared up at him with tears in my eyes. What had I ever done to him that was so terrible?

He offered no explanation as he continued beating me. I knew my mother could hear my cried of pain by now, but once again, she was too frightened to come out and help me –she'd made that mistake before.

He picked me up by the throat and threw me against the wall. I fell to the floor, feeling broken in many ways. I whimpered and just lay there. He picked me back up and hit me again and again. He finally let me drop down. "I'm sorry!" I shrieked, not knowing what to apologize for this time. Every time something in his life went wrong, he would always come here and take it out on me, saying it was my fault.

He kicked me once more, in the stomach and I cried out, curling up and clutching at it. I couldn't breathe. Where was my inhaler? Not like he would let me get it. My hands went from my stomach to my throat as I wheezed and gasped. He growled and kicked me again, then walked away, slamming the door.

As soon as he was gone, my mother ran out. "Baby!" She cried, running to my side. "Are you okay?" She begged. I moaned, still wheezing. She realized I was having an asthma attack and ran to get my inhaler. She brought it to me and I grabbed it, desperately sucking in the much-needed air.

She was crying. "I'm sorry, Jack. He came here looking for you earlier, but you weren't home, when he left I thought he'd gone out to look for you, I didn't think he'd be back for a while…" She sobbed.

Despite my pain, I managed to sit up and shakily take her hand. "Why does he hate me?" He begged, tears and blood falling from my face. "He's a bad man sweetie." She told me, carefully putting her arms around me.

I let my throbbing head rest on the wall, my mind swirling. Why did he hate me? Why did my father hate me?

(A/N: this is a little story about what Jack's life would be like if he didn't go to the dojo for his karate, but instead went because he and his mother needed the money. What his life would be like if his father were a total crazy guy and stuff like that. I just had this idea come to me, and I'm trying it out. Let me know what you think and if I should continue!