The Story With No Name (Prequel)

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Before you start reading, I need to warn any potential readers that the story might have some violence and contain sexual nature, it won't be full on because I'm not comfortable writing about stuff like that but there may be references. I also need to warn you that the story may seem slow but it isn't a fast paced sort of story but I think that the plot line is pretty solid and hopefully, it will be a good story overall.
One last thing... abuse is *not* a joke.
All content in this story is fake but it might have happened to someone else at some point in their life.
Wait, another thing sorry.. this story is a prequel to Behind the Fake Smile. You don't need to read the other story to understand this one (although if you want to then it's absolutely fine[; )but I may use some references to the other story within this story but don't worry, that will be near the end and everything will make sense without the need to read the other story.
For those who have already read Behind the Fake Smile, this story is about Lizzie's and John's life before they were adopted by the Alker family.
Sorry for the really long authors note, but here's the story now (finally) and I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, if you see them then just let me know in your comment (:

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                    Feeling exhausted, Lizzie threw herself on the bed and rolled on her side. Dark green light from the alarm clock illuminated the room slightly, casting distorted shadows against the wall of her teddy bears. The time read 2:08am and Lizzie was still in her school uniform from earlier but she just wrapped a blanket around herself not caring about how dirty she would feel in the morning. Her mother took Lizzie after school to search for her father over several hours but the whole ordeal was pointless since they didn’t find him. She blinked rapidly, trying to rid the wet fog that tried to claim her eyes and emotions.

                    A loud screech disturbed the silence in the room as her bedroom door opened and automatically, Lizzie rolled onto her right side and pretended to be asleep. After several moments and muffled shuffling, the silence was perturbed again as the door closed. Assuming whoever opened the door was now gone, she rolled back onto her back and stared at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

                    The green light which emitted from the alarm clock revealed a silhouette of a tall figure standing over Lizzie’s bed. The shadow slowly sat down and exhaled heavily, as if he had been holding his breath whilst he walked in the room.

                     “Why is it that when you need to go somewhere quietly, the doors or floorboards always creak. It’s like they want to get us in trouble,” John laughed slightly, hoping to make his sister smile but he soon realised that his efforts were in vain. “Dad’s back,” he said quietly.

                     Their mother’s muffled shouts penetrated the walls reaching the young adolescences.

                     “They’re fighting, John,” Lizzie sat up and made some more room for John so that he could sit more comfortably.

                     “I know,” He ran his fingers through his black and moved it away from his eyes.

                     Lizzie stayed silent, listening to her mother’s desperate shouts.

                     “Where did you and mum go?” John asked, breaking the silence.

                     “We were driving around for god knows how long looking for him. We went all over the city and then we went to the other cities to where some of his friends live, to see if he was there. We looked everywhere but we didn’t find him,” Lizzie dropped her head slightly. “You should have seen her John. She was so distraught and hysterical. She wouldn’t stop crying and I felt awful… I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t know how to comfort and assure her. You're the one good at that stuff, not me.”

                     “It’s alright Lizzie. Don’t worry about it. Everything will work out for us in the end,” he tried to reassure her despite knowing that everything can go only downhill for them. He looked in Lizzie’s eyes, hoping to disguise his defeat and show Lizzie that he was hopeful for the future.

                     “Stop staring at them. You know I hate it when you do!” He quickly moved his hair back in front of his eyes, where it usually was serving its purpose, hiding his silver eyes that seemed to be a light source of its own.

                     “They are beautiful. You should embrace them John. It’s the only good thing that he’s given to you,” Lizzie shook her head slightly and tried to remove the hair away from his eyes but John just shook her off.

                     “Beautiful,” he scoffed. “I have the eyes of a monster and every time I look in the mirror I feel like a monster. I feel like a creature. I feel like I don’t belong in the world because of what he did to me.”

                     “You don’t have the eyes of a monster. You have the eyes of the Gods. The girls in school would literally give their soul to the devil just to look at your eyes and yet, you insist on hiding it away from everyone!”

                     “They're demonic. I don’t care what you say Elizabeth,” she flinched at him pronouncing her full name, emphasising each syllable.

                     “At least you don’t have the same eyes of our father,” Lizzie uttered in a low voice. “Even if he finally leaves us, every time I look in the mirror, I see him and realise that he is a part of me… and will be forever.”

                     “Explains why you’re mirror's broken,” he laughed humourlessly and glanced at the small cracked square mirror still hanging on the wall. “Now you listen to me Elizabeth Allison Marie Jacobs, you are not a monster nor will you ever become one,” his silver eyes bore into her grey ones intensely.

                    The shouting outside the room between their mother and father increased in volume, now both parents could be heard shouting above one another rather than just the mother shouting and the father replying in calm, condescendingly manner.

                     “You know that you’re the best brother ever,” Lizzie smiled weakly.

                     “I know,” John winked and moved away from the bed, allowing his sister to have some sleep.

                     The front room door, where the heated argument was taking place, slammed shut signaling to John that it was time to leave.

                     “Sweet dreams Lizzie. Tomorrow will be better. I promise,” John stroked his thirteen year old sister’s forehead gently and then quickly left to go back to his bedroom to pretend that he too, like his sister, was oblivious to all the commotion between their parents.

                    Within moments of John arriving in his bedroom, their father walked in their bedrooms to check if each of his offspring had heard the shouts from their parents. When he peered into Lizzie’s room, she stayed still, not daring to breathe in fear that she would upset her father in doing so.

                    She stood still in fear that she would anger the feral beast.

                    It was for the fear that she might disturb the man who had used his own son as an experiment to earn a few pennies to which the family did not need. When Johnathon Andrew Jacobs was only seven years old, his father, Andrew Jacobs, was involved in Eugenics. He was trying to make the human race better and more superior.

                    Their main focus was experimenting with eye colour. They presumed that they could give all the important people in the world dark bronze eyes to show their importance to the public people since their main belief was that those who belonged to an upper class needed to be treated differently than those of a lower class. To prevent anyone from committing identity fraud they realised that they would need to change something permanently about their physical appearance; their eye colour.

                    Andrew Jacobs and his team finally created a substance that would change any eye colour to a dark bronze, but they needed a human to test it on. Everything had to be researched and experimented in a secret since the government would heavily reprimand them heavily for their plans therefore, all funding and animals and testing subjects had to be provided solely by the team.

                    One of the scientists suggested in using one of their children as part of their experiment to see if the chemical substance would have the same effect on a human as it did to the animals. However, no one wanted to involve their offspring in the barbaric process, but the same scientist also suggested that whoever allows their child to be part of the experiment would be given five hundred pounds for their contribution to science as well as a further seven hundred and fifty pounds as compensation if things went wrong.

                    Within a heartbeat, Andrew offered his son and all the scientist heartedly thanked him for generous donation to the cause. It was a Wednesday night, the sky was empty of any clouds allowing all the stars to gather and watch the fateful process where Johnathon Jacobs would be injected with crimson liquid near the retina of his eye. An excruciating scream was ripped away from the child’s lips and it became apparent that the child had an alarming risk of either losing his sight permanently or dying.

                    After seventy-four days of intensive care, the doctors saved both his life and eyesight but he would forever be haunted of the memory of his near death because the experiment changed his eye colour from a warm pool of mud to steely opaque silver.  

                    Those eyes marked the day where all the shouts and the arguments and the constant silent treatments and the beginning of mother and daughter stalking father and husband from the early hours of the evening to the early hours of morn.

                    Those eyes marked the day where the Jacobs family life changed forever.

                    Sometimes, Lizzie would wonder that if her brother had died from the experiment then would her life be normal. She had no doubt that there would be a constant void in her heart from the absence of her brother but perhaps, her life would have been considerably better… safer… if her brother had died.

                    She quickly pushed those corrupted, selfish thoughts away from her mind and convinced herself that her brother was worth all the beatings and the constant fear and bottled up emotions.

                    She reminded herself, again, that her brother had always been the one who helped her and mother when their father was at his worst.

                    She reminded herself, again, that her brother had to adapt the role of someone ten years older than him. At the tender age of fourteen, he had to take on the role of comforting everyone and cooking when their mother was too depressed to even get out of bed.

                    But, no matter how many times Lizzie convinced herself that her life wouldn’t be the same without her affectionate brother; she couldn’t rid those tainted thoughts of him.        

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