DIFFERENT (Teen Moriarty x reader)

Chapter 17 Untied we fall Part 2

(Readers POV)

The blank spaces, the ink smeared lines.. The Slanted calligraphy.. Labeled the letter sent to James after my descent.

It came hand delivered, from none other then my father, it was handed over with a shaking hand. Jim looked up at him before giving dean a look of sorrow. Then closing the door as he began to retreat down the front steps.

I had seen this happen, I had over looked his sorrow and felt anger for the man who made me die.

I wouldn't have to be dead if it was not for him... Yet I could see now, in the tiny black lines of ink... How truly torn and sorry he must have been.

Not only did he send his heart threw the information he wrote of my death. But also wrote his truth, in hopes it would give jim some closure of my struggles in life.

He wrote about my mother, who with out any reason, took me and ran.

He and my mother where the most lovely couple before then. Sharing everything from meals, to places in bed. He had built me a crib with his bare hands, then my mother painted it a crystal white.

He had done everything for my mother, as well as me. Careing for me when I was born, being a rope for my mother to hang on to as she cried. My mother... Was sick you see.
I had know that... I had always know it but... I hadn't realized her sickness was internal. She had not gained it as a result of my fathers absence... As I first assumed... She had always been sick.

My father... After writing this letter sent a diary to Jim... It arrived yesterday in the mid morning, delivered by a man in blue.

It explained how my mothers sickness got worse at my birth.
How she saw things... How she felt.
In her eyes I was a baby of only her blood. And to her mind... My father became the enemy. And so she fled... Far away from my home town... Landing in Dublin... Where later my father moved.

We where so close... But he was never a face I found comforting... He was a absent blurr. He wasn't my father... Intel I was gone.

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Sometimes I lay in bed and think... Of how Jim and I, sat and watched as the smell of burnt flesh seeped into our nostrils. The girl we had chosen from the morgue looked slightly similar to me, as that was the initial point.

The light of the fire we had set onto her, shinned lightly on our faces.
I layed my chin on my knees that where tightly tucked into my stomach.
I felt nothing, watching as her hair slowly turned to ash. I felt a light cold touch to my arm, before fingers where intertwined with mine.
I looked up to Jim, he sat in the pale orange glow, looking down at the body and up to me with a light smile. Beside him sat the syringe we had used to inject my DNA into the young girl, it sat wrapped in a bag to seal any contaminations of the scene. We reverted our eyes back to the fire.

I did nothing but watch Intel the flam began to die ,she was nothing but a burnt corpse now.

I got up, Jim following my movements as we began to prepare the scene with hints of jacks presence.

As we did this, I glanced at jack in the corner, he sat, ready to be accused of something he did not do. He looked up at me, blank emotion sat in his eyes. He was at peace with his fate, however this...was far from peaceful.

When we had finished with all the details of what we had done, we all stood still processing.

We where like soldiers balanced on a line, stock still, waiting for one of us to move.

I was the first to take a step, lightly shuffling towards the door.

Jack and Jim stood still.. Looking down to the old concrete floor.

It had not processed with me how serious this moment had been. However as I stood watching I knew.

Jack had a plan to keep from being executed but if the right enforcement did not show up. There would be no way of knowing if the plan would succeed.

It was like a strong force was set on my shoulders now. The thought of breaking a family apart to save me filled me with over whelming quilt.

"Good bye Jackson." Jim said softly, as he turned to the door, avoiding any possible eye contact with his brother.

"For now.. James.." Jack mumbled back.

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That night Jim and i sat in his room reading against the pale light of a lone lamp.

I sat far away from him, in the corner by the bookshelf. He sat still on an arm chair near his night stand.

He hadn't talked much, it had been 5 hours since we had planted the evidence. Yet he remained unresponsive.

His posture was different then normal, slouched and unclean.

A copy of "The Great Gatspy" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, sat askew in his palms.

As i looked up to him, a sound like chimes of a church rung threw out the house.

It was obvious who it was... And we had everything planned for how to act.

I sat in his bed as he exited the room to answer the door.

It was a new life now. A new situation and new beginning. All that was left was the funeral and the execution..

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Two weeks later the look for jack went cold... Though the men we hired said he was alive we saw no trace of him any longer...

It wasn't wise to draw any attention to a missing person who was supposed to be dead. As a result all we could do was wait.. In hopes one day... Jack would come back.

Though dead to the world...
He was lost to us.