Jack

I didn’t really know what I was stepping into when I joined the gang. Everything felt heavy from the start too many people, too many quiet rules nobody ever said out loud. And then there was Jack. Blond like me, but that’s where anything similar ended. He barely talks, barely reacts, like the world around him is something he just has to survive in. Seventeen, but it doesn’t feel real when you look at him. He moves like someone older, someone who’s already lived through everything that could break a person and came out empty. He grew up on the streets since he was a kid, no real home, no safety. His mother died when he was young, and his father ended up in prison in America from hurting his mom. After that, an old man took him in from the streets but it was never really kindness more like control, like his life was never fully his He was sent to prison from getting revenge from his enemies old man dint let him have a fair trial Prison though didn’t break him. It sharpened him instead. He learned how people lie, how they move, how they break under pressure. When he got out, there was no freedom waiting. The gang was already there like it had been decided for him. He had no choice but to work with them, even with people from his past standing right there laughing making teasing jokes like nothing happened including fat man who makes his blood boil in rage like he forgot it all. One of them never stops pushing him, always testing him, always trying to get a reaction he never gives. Jack tried to escape more than once, but there are eyes everywhere. Every attempt ended the same dragged back, reminded he doesn’t get out. So now he just works. Cold, silent, precise. And I’m there too both of us blond they liked blondies, both stuck in the same world, but when I look at him, it feels like he’s already gone somewhere far away… and I’m just trying to keep up because he’s already been through too much.