Hey guys. This is a long chapter. (The longest one I've ever written.
This chapter is dedicated to XXxANGixXXX Thanks for the help with this chapter and for commenting and voting.
Sorry I haven't been dedicating chapters to people recently, I've been forgetful. I'll try to keep up.
Warning: Jack's family is not accurate. His siblings are all OCs you guys made. (Except André. You guys can finish him if you want)
     Also, warning(s): mention of abuse, self harm, and suicide. Dark nature in general. Read at your own risk.
     Ok, continue.
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          "Oh, Cecelia," he whispers sympathetically.
     ///// \\\\\  ///// \\\\\  ///// \\\\\
"I'm so sorry. I had no idea," he says, rubbing my arm gently.

"It's fine. I mean, how could you know? I was trying to hide it, that was the point," I say, chuckling silently, halfheartedly.

"But still," Jack persists, "you're my girlfriend. I should know when somethings up with you."

"We've only been dating for a handful of hours, Jack. And we haven't known each other that long, either. So you can't expect to know everything about me," I tell him, seeing his face fall slightly.

          "But I want to. I want to know all about you," he replies, taking my hands into his. My face heats up a little.

"Really?" I whisper, shocked.

          "Yes, really," he replies.

          "It's a long story. And I'm not sure where to start," I say.

          "Start at the beginning. And I'll wait here for as long as it takes," Jack says.

          "Ok. If you're sure and really want to know...."

"I do." Jack seals his fate for the next hour or so. Give or take.

          We sit in silence for a moment. Me gathering my thoughts and Jack waiting patiently and quietly. I grip his hands tighter, not really wanting to tell him, but knowing I should.

          "Ok," I sigh, starting. "My mom and I used to be really close. Best friends and all. Same with my dad, he was my hero. My little brother and I - well, we couldn't get any closer. We were just a tight family, I guess," I tell Jack wistfully, the memories coming to the forefront of my mind.

"We did everything together. We all slept together in the living room when the power went out or if there was a storm. We'd sleep all cuddled up against each other. And dad would sing us to sleep. He'd play his guitar and sing 'Cowboys and Angels'. It was his am favorite song. He thought it described him and momma really well. Momma would sing with him sometimes. She sang like an angel. Looked like one, too, she was so pretty," I recall nostalgically.

          "But one day, we discovered that my dad had cancer. And... I don't know. He still went to work and my 7 year old brain thought that he just needed some rest to get better. That he had to work for money. So, I started gathering money. Change on the sidewalk and on the floor. I walked people's dogs. I kept my room clean, and momma gave me an allowance. Eventually, I came up with around $200. A bunch of money for a kid," I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear and chuckling lightly.

          "But I wanted to make more, so he could stay home longer. But one day, my dad discovered it. And I walked into my room, $10 in my pocket, ready to add to the jar, but my dad was there. Holding the jar in his hand. And he looked at me, a mix of emotions on his face. And he asked 'where did you get this?' And I told him that I earned it. For him, so he could stay home and rest and get better. The look on his face was...." I trail off, thinking back to that day.

          "Well let's just say that he grabbed that jar and left. I ran after him, wanting to know what he was doing with my money. I didn't have enough saved up yet. But anyway, he went to work and put in his two week notice and started chemo therapy. And my 7 year old brain thought that I cured him. That he wasn't sick anymore," I say sadly, shifting in Jack's lap so that my head is pressed to his chest, his heartbeat. (Heartbeat was autocorrected to eat eat. Omg. Sorry, continue)

"But he wasn't. He was getting better and one day he just...." I trail off, tears building in my eyes and a lump appearing in my throat, making it hard to talk.

"He just started getting worse," I tell Jack, a couple tears tumbling over and starting a race to the floor, my cheeks the track.

Jack rests his head against mine and rubs my back soothingly, pulling me tighter to him.

"And one day... He was on the couch, and it was a normal day. Just a regular Thursday afternoon and..." I continue, not able to stop.

"He died. Right there on the couch. Mid movie. He just... Died. Just stopped breathing and didn't close his eyes for another blink. Hospice was in the room and they couldn't... They couldn't do anything." I break off, having to stem the flow of tears and bring down the lump in my throat.

          "I'm sorry," Jack whispers, hugging me tightly to him. "I'm so s--" he gets cut off.

          "It's just the start, Jack. Let me finish," I say, the tears now less like a tsunami and more like a raging river. The harmless race has turned into an all out war.

          "After dad, you know. Mom couldn't really handle it too well. She became like a robot, no emotions. When she was home, she just- she'd sit on the couch and just stare blankly at the TV, it didn't matter if it was on or off. I don't think she noticed, that she was aware of her surroundings really. She'd go to work, and cook and stuff but she wasn't really there. I think when dad died, a part of her did too. The emotional part, the part that cared ," I explain, seeing her lifeless, blank eyes in my mind.

          "She was depressed. She depended on him and didn't know how to live without him. So she didn't, kind of. She thought about trying kill herself. But she never did. Because every time she was about to, she thought of me and my brother. We'd be lost without her. Orphans. We'd be torn apart. And that thought stopped her every time. I think it's because she was too tired to move, or that she didn't care enough to. She didn't feel any sadness, or hurt, or pain. Just... numb," I whisper, replaying it in my head. The next moments dread creeping up on me.

          "I thought she'd get better after time. That the pain of him dying would fade away and we'd have our mom back. But she didn't get better, she got worse. She stopped going grocery shopping, stopped cooking and cleaning, stopped going to work. Started drinking, to forget, I presume," I continue.

          "And I panicked when she didn't get better. I didn't want to be taken away from Colton. From Cole. My little brother. I wanted, needed to stay with him. He was the only family I really had left, and I couldn't lose him. I refused to. So my 9 year old self decided that we should leave. Run before anyone could take us away, before they had the chance to. So I packed us both a bag. And I grabbed a backpack and emptied it, filling it with food. Candy bars, chips, granola bars. Whatever I could find that didn't need cooking, basically," I explain.

          "So we ran away and lived on the streets. I learned how to survive, how to gain people's sympathy. I taught him. And for a while, we were taking in cash. Not very much. A twenty here, a couple fives there, a handful of ones. But it was all we needed. I gained pity and sympathy from people who worked at fast food joints, and they'd sneak me some food. Just a little. Half a burger, a handful of fries," I keep talking, needing to get it out.

          "And on his birthday, I told the lady that I wanted to get him something special. Something better then usual. So she asked what I wanted and I told her I wanted a chocolate milkshake. So she got me one and told me that she wasn't working the next few days, to stay away, her boss was getting suspicious. I agreed and stopped by a store on the way home. Spent five bucks on a hat for him. Went to our setup and gave him the milkshake and hat, telling him happy birthday. And he loved that hat, never took it off," I continue.

          "We lived in this abandoned building. With a few other homeless people. They looked out for us. And we became a family. Anyway, one night I found this girl standing on the side of the street. Soaking wet, in the pouring rain, just waiting. I went up to her and asked what she was doing. She told me that she was waiting for her dad. I asked how long she'd been waiting for. She said it was morning when he dropped her off. It was almost midnight. I told her that she should come with me, that she could come back at a decent hour. She agreed and came back with me. We took her in and fed her, dried her clothes by the fire," I say, a small smile on my face.

          "We quickly became best friends, still are to this day. Her dad never showed, but she didn't want to leave me anyway. Thought of me as her little sister. Since she's older. But anyway, one day Cole got sick. Like really sick. The worst kind of sick. Me, Rosa Faith, and Stan, - another guy there. He was a mixture between a uncle and grandpa. He was really cool - we tried to figure out what was wrong, how to make him better. We got some medicine, but it didn't help and we couldn't afford a hospital. So we waited it out. Taking shifts watching him. But he didn't ever get better. He just got worse until there was no more worse for him to get," I say, tears starting up again.

          "We couldn't bury him, it was the middle of winter and we were in a city, so there was nowhere to put him. So we just set him in some alleyway, where someone else would find him. Left a paper under his arm, with his name and age and stuff they put on the tombstone. Asked for him to be put next to our parents of it was possible. It was, I eventually found out," I say, a moon in my throat.

"He didn't have a funeral, but we all mourned him, said our goodbyes. He was just a kid. Always so bright and happy, even in our situation. Even as he was getting worse, the smile never left his face. I still have the hat I gave him for his birthday. It's all dirty and beat up, but he loved it. And I guess I got careless with him being gone. Like mom was. I got me and Rosa Faith caught by some police officers. We got put into the system, went from foster family to foster family. Got adopted by people who only wanted the money and reputation it gave them," I continue robotically, not putting much emotion into my words anymore. The moon left, leaving an empty space in my throat. My eyes dry for once.

And I remember. The note mom left. 'Take care of Cole.' Guess I couldn't do that. I tried, but I guess it wasn't enough. I let mom down. Took her last wish and threw it in the dump.

I remember the feeling of failure and I felt the disappointment from her. I let her down on the only thing that mattered.

"One day, I met Luke. He was nice, and handsome, and... I don't know. He was just really sweet. He helped me get over my brothers death a little bit more. Cured my wariness of guys. Asked me to date him. Moved to Ireland with me. Took care of me. He gave me everything and asked for nothing in return," I continue, leaving my childhood behind and moving on to Luke.

"I thought he was the guy for me. The one I was going to marry. But he grew to like his alcohol. And he could be a real bastard when he was drunk. He was drunk a lot. And bit by bit, the sweet and loving guy I fell in love with disappeared and left a drunk in his wake. And day by day, I was treated worse and worse."

"And I don't know what see him over the edge. What happened to make him change so suddenly. To start drinking so heavily when the day before, he hated the taste of alcohol. I don't know," I say, slightly frustrated. I never figured it out. Still haven't.

          "One day he got a little carried away and that's where you found me. End of story," I finish quickly, not wanting to go into details, letting out a sigh and releasing some of the tension.

          "Oh," Jack says, blinking. "Umm... Wow. You've been through a lot."

          "Yep," I tell him. "Are you gonna leave now?" I ask, still robotically, unable to conjor up emotion.

          "What?" Jack asks, shocked. He pulls back so he can see my face. "Leave? Never. Especially after that. It just makes me want to stay even more," he tells me, his gaze bouncing between my eyes.

         "Ok," I whisper, trusting him. Hoping I won't regret it.

Because I'm not sure I could live through my trust being destroyed a second time.

          "I'll tell you about me. Won't be as long or touching, I'm afraid, but I'll try," he says, breaking the silence.

          "I was born in Ireland. I had 2 older brothers, an older sister and 2 little sisters. I was the baby of the family for the longest time. Aiden's the oldest, then Klara, André, and Sky - who's adopted - me, and little Amelia," he starts, describing his family.

          I give him a confusing look. Little sisters? I thought he was the youngest. He said so in his draw my life, didn't he? And the order is all weird, too. And there's an extra sister in there.

"We didn't have much growing up. Since we're all within two years of each other -besides Amelia- our Ma didn't work much. And dads job back then wasn't the best. So it wasn't easy. Clothes were hand me downs from Aiden and André. Food was microwaveable or needed no skill to make," he starts describing his childhood.

          "We were home alone a lot, after I was born. Ma was out doing job interviews and stayed out late when she didn't get the job. She didn't get a job for a long while. Eventually, we moved out near my grandma's place," he talks about his mom for a bit.

          "So Aiden took care of us. Made sure we did our homework and studied. Fed us. Played games with me, when he had the time. Klara was my best friend, we're a lot alike. She played games with me. Played piano for me when she had access to one. She's wicked good. André is the middle brother. He's like the innocent puppy of the family. Sky - well, she's adopted, but that doesn't matter to us. She's the joking Queen. She's a great friend to have. She has a bit of a temper, though. And then there's Amelia. She's four. The most adorable person you'll ever meet. She has a way of wrapping you around her finger with a look," he describes his siblings in more detail. Shocking me with the fact that he was the middle kid, not the youngest. He had two little sisters. Why was his draw my life so different from what he was telling me?

"And that's kind of all there is to it. Aiden works in video game programming. Klara works with NASA I the US. André works as a vet. He has his own clinic. Sky's off on her own. And Amelia... Well she stays at home most of the time. She's getting ready for preschool, so I wouldn't mess with her," he says the last part in mock-seriousness. I laugh a little when he reaches Amelia.

"So, I guess that's the rundown of my childhood. And since you talked about.... Luke, was it?" I nod in confirmation. "I guess it's only fair that I talk about Signe, huh?" He asks himself more then me. I just sit and listen, getting ready for him to vent.

"Well we met through her YouTube channel, Wiishu. I was impressed by her work so I messaged her. We kept talking and one thing led to another. I fell for her. And she for me. We visited each other when we had the chance and one day, I asked her to move out here and live with me. She agreed. And things were great. They were. For a while. But she couldn't handle it well. The fan meet ups and the fangirls. She was... Protective. Didn't really like me hanging around other girls. But I didn't really have a choice, you know? It's part of my job. But the week she.... Ya know. It was rough on her. Everything that could possibly go wrong, did. When she saw you in the apartment... I guess it kind of pushed her over the edge," he says sadly, looking heartbroken. I reach up and rub his shoulder, comforting him.

Then I realized that it was my fault. Jack and Signe breaking up. If I'd left Luke sooner, or stayed, or lived with Rosa Faith, or called an ambulance or the police.... I never would've bumped into Jack in the street. Well, he wouldn't have tripped over me, but that's details. We never would've had that meeting in the hospital. I wouldn't have moved in with him (temporarily). We wouldn't have gotten closer. We never would've kissed. I wouldn't be his girlfriend.

But maybe he'd be better off. He wouldn't feel the crushing pain, and crippling guilt. He wouldn't have held a razor blade to his wrist. He wouldn't have nightmares every night, haunting him. He wouldn't wince at the sound of her name. He wouldn't remember her when things get quiet, hear the whisper of memories in his ear. He wouldn't lock himself in his recording room for hours (longer then usual, and he normally doesn't lock the door). He wouldn't fall asleep in his chair, because the bed feels too big when he's on his own. Cause it's hard to fall asleep without her warmth, steady breathing, and comforting presence beside him. In his arms.

          When someone leaves you suddenly, it hurts.

          It's like you're a glass sculpture and they were the duct tape holding the cracks together. And suddenly, it was ripped off, destroying that chunk of you. That huge piece that they held together and were a part of. It just falls apart. Leaves a gaping, jagged hole in its place. One that can't ever be healed, or fixed. Because the piece that falls off, shatters on the floor.

          It's like a game of Jenga. The blocks are people and things that are important to you. Some are more important then others. Some things, you wouldn't really miss if they were gone. Others could cause you to topple over, destroying the other things you care about in its leaving. And you're left with a few meager blocks on the bottom, leaving you empty because you were so full, and tall a minute before.

          They were the stitching on a stuffed toy. It could unravel, and some stuffing could fall out. You could shove more stuffing back in, stitch the hole shut, but it will never be the same again. There'll be a scar, and the stuffing wouldn't fit like it did before.

          It's like the solar system. People are the planets. Unique and irreplaceable. Things you care about are stars, endless and beautiful. But if a planet implodes on itself, sometimes it takes out a few stars in its explosive end. Some people are the sun. Providing light and giving you hope. Others are the moon. Swallowing light and emitting darkness. Showcasing dreadful memories and harsh truths.

          The people that are important to you, the ones you care about the most, and trust; they are the ones that can inflict the most pain.

          "I'm sorry," I whisper in the middle of my dark thoughts.

          "Sorry?" Jack asks. "What for?" He's shocked. I'm guilty.

          "It's my fault. It's all my fault," I say, choking up a bit.

          "What is? Cecelia, baby, what's wrong?" Jack asks worriedly, gripping my upper arms.

          "It's my fault Signe left!" I yell suddenly, shocking Jack, he pulls back a few inches at my sudoku loud tone.

          "There were a million things I could have done to prevent it, but I didn't. I let things continue. I wriggled my way here, into your home. I touched you. And I destroy everything I touch. Especially the things I want to protect," I ramble, my thoughts taking over. Reality and imagination clashing together, the border between them disintegrating.

          "It's all my fault, Jack. I ruined you. I ruin everything I touch! I don't want to ruin everything. I want to save and protect, but I can't. When I try, I just make it worse," I confess, rivers running down my cheeks. I raise my hands to cover my face. Jack's falling to his lap.

          "No, Cecelia. No. It's not your fault," Jack says, desperate for me to stop crying. "It's ours. We weren't gonna make it anyway. If a girl on the couch can make her leave, then maybe she wasn't worth keeping around," he continues.

          "It's ok, Cecelia. It's alright, baby," he says hurriedly, trying to calm me. Holding his hands to my cheeks to stem the flow of the rivers.

          Lies. It's all lies. He's lying. He's hurting because of her absence. He wanted to die. He tried to kill himself. How is that ok? In what world, what dimension is that ok?

          In what universe is that ok?

          None, that's which one.

It's not ok in any world. There's no way it could be.

Jack holds me close, whispering assuring comments in my ear. Let's the rivers on my cheeks stain his grey cubed patterned shirt.

He rests his chin on my head and closes his eyes.

He lets a few (dozen) stray tears sneak into my hair.
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Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's nearly 4000 words, so you better have. (Just kidding). Auto correct also slayed me this chapter. It turned the depressing parts hilarious. I only put one in there, though. It'd be too distracting if I put them all.
Sorry if it sucks, I don't have time to proof read it since it's so long.
     Please let me know how you like this chapter. Vote if you like it, too. Comment on the parts that you relate with, or that you thought were written well, or the parts you liked the best. It helps me write better. You don't have to, though.
     I'll see you all soon (I hope). Bye!