Tears
Rating: Pg-13 angst
Summery: A glimpse of Jack past.
Disclaimer: I don't own this boy if I did…. Only if I did…..

My dad always told me tears were for girl. That was nothing special. Every boy hears it once before he's grown. I never believed a word my dad told me. Not after I saw him beat my mom to death. They put him away for that, sent me to live with strangers. I keep seeing it in my head, my dad standing over my mom, broken bottle in hand. The doctors said she could have lived if he had called 911 a few minutes earlier. I think he knew that. I think he knew a lot of things he never told me. Truths he never shared.
The nightmare started my second week in the first of 12 foster homes. They got worse each night. In my second foster home the lady took me to a head doctor. They told me I suffered from a very vivid imagination and suffered from nightmares. He never bothered to ask any of the important questions.
I was 11 when Evelyn took me in. The first night I woke up screaming she held me, told me it was okay to cry. So I did. I cried till there was nothing left in me to let out. She gave me milk and put me to bed. I fell asleep and for the first time in three years I had no dreams.
Over the next 11 year I wasn't given many reasons to cry. Flying home for Ma's funeral was the hardest thing I had to do. Harder than prying the phone from my dad's hand to call 911. Harder than closing my eyes and breathing in that scent, his scent, harder than making myself not move fight push shove against him… it …whatever. Standing over Ma grave broke my heart the way nothing else ever did.