"We fought an uphill battle. One we had no hope of winning."
~~~
Felicity-Flick as most call her-Carter, has learned a thing or two in her 12 years of life. How to deal with drunk parents without waking the neighbors, how to smoke a cigarette withou...
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Jacksons POV
"You're late." I muttered when I heard footsteps approaching behind me. I'd been here for nearly an hour, waiting for him. We were supposed to meet 45 minutes ago, but I was hardly surprised that he was late. He always was. At least, from what I've heard, that is.
Cameron grunted in reply, pulling himself the rest of the way onto the roof clumsily and making his way over the edge where I sat. "What do you want from me?" Cameron seemed less than thrilled to be here. Apprehensive, and a little scared too. The thought would have made Flick happy. It just made me sad for him.
"I want to talk," I replied evasively. I had gone back and forth on the best way to approach this for days now, and I still had no idea how to get my point across in a way that made sense to someone besides me or my best friend. But I needed to do this. For her, I needed to do this. For her was almost nothing I wouldn't do.
"About?" Cameron prompted, clearly unimpressed with my lack of elaboration. He had taken a seat beside me on the ledge, and now that he was closer, I could see the remnants of the drugs in his face. He looked tired, but the kind of tired that left a person hungry and desperate. The kind that was unsatisfiable in every way imaginable. I felt a pang of sorrow for Flick, knowing how much Cameron using must have affected her. She was far more sensitive than she pretended she was, and I knew how much of a toll her brothers being home has had on her in the last few days.
"Flick," My simple reply hung heavily in the air between us, and by the way Cameron's face twisted into a hard, knowing expression I could tell he felt that weight just the same.
"What about Flick? She alright?" He muttered cautiously, like he didn't quite want to know. I had no clue what had happened the last time he spoke to her, but the grimace in his voice made me think that it probably hadn't been a very pleasant interaction. When I left the apartment a few hours ago, Flick was getting ready to suffer through a family holiday dinner which I couldn't imagine had gone very well. In all likelihood, it had been a complete shit show from the moment I left, which would explain why Cameron was so nervous about his sisters whereabouts.
Chances are, as soon as shit hit the fan, Flick screwed out of there, probably to come looking for me. But I wasn't there this time. Not yet. Not until I did what I had to do. For her. Always for her. I shrugged.
"No idea, is she alright?" I asked skeptically.
He shrugged right back at me. "No clue where she is."
"Me neither." I hummed.
Cameron shook his head and laughed humorlessly, putting a hand to his face in exhaustion and mild distress. "That kid," He muttered to himself. "God, that kid, is just-" He shook his head again, words failing him when it came to his sister. I knew the feeling. Flick tended to do that to people. Leave them speechless and uncertain. I had been feeling like that all my life. And I wouldn't trade it for the world, but I would trade it for her safety, which was what I kept telling myself I was doing here.
