Jesse

24: There are no words for this

Author's note: This is the most intense chapter so far. Note, so far. And I've also added a little more toward the end.

24: There are no words for this

            For a moment I couldn't even talk; I blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.

            "Tom—Tommy, what the hell?" I hissed, sweat trickling along my brow.

            I could see the horror—the utter desperation—all in his face; he was just as afraid as I was. "J-Jesse—don't make me do this, please."

            "Tommy, put down the gun—you don't want to do this."

            "I have no fucking choice!" Tom Boy shouted, tears burning down his cheeks. "They made me do it! I need more h-heroin, heroin Jesse! A-and I—I don't got a-any—"

            "I'm the only one who can get it for you," I said. "Shooting me, will solve nothing…But you know I'm done with that!"

            "I know that," he muttered angrily. "But I—I—You've got no choice Jesse, you got to come with me. Or I'll shoot!"

            "Okay, okay," I said impatiently, "Just put the gun down, and I'll go…Just put it down…"

            "You promise?" he insisted, glaring wildly.

            "Yes, yes, I promise—just put the damn gun down," I whispered, looking around to make sure no was watching us curiously.

            At last Tom Boy gave in, and lowered the firearm, and I sighed in relief. "Look, come inside. And we'll talk."

            "We don't have much time," he said, and I could see the absolute terror in his eyes.

            "Why?"

            "Because they'll come looking for us—I'm supposed to—" he stopped talking immediately, and gave the inside of my house a wary look. "Maybe it would be best if we did talk indoors."

            "Okay."

            Tom Boy stepped inside hesitantly, a strange movement to his body, so tense. He didn't take his eyes off of me. That cold, yet incinerating glare, shot straight threw me. Quietly, I shut the door behind him, and he didn't make the slightest motion to continue walking into the house. So we just stood there, his back almost against the wall, his hand still firmly taut on his gun. Occasionally, it caught the sunlight.

            He looked around with his great, wide eyes, and nodded. "Alright—I'm supposed to take you with me; J. wants to see ya. He's going to take you to Black's personally…It's been—been real hard man, let me tell ya since you have—you have gave up the job…It's been tough tryin' to find people we can trust—J.'s already shot—shot two—two people. Bad deals. He took Ty's death really hard—And I wasn't, wasn't going to tell you…But he blames most of it on you—"

            "What the fuck?!" I exclaimed. "Me? What the hell—I don't even understand…He committed suicide!"

            "Yeah—yeah, I know—but J.'s gone a little crazy—well crazier—nowadays; it sort of put him over the edge, a bit…Sort of like how Ty was…It's like he's Ty now…It's ridiculous…His face doesn't look exactly the same, but his eyes—You stare long enough into them, and you believe it's him, Ty, come back from the grave! Especially since he went and buzzed his hair off like Ty had…He's even picked up phrases Ty said, and how he said them—It's crazy man—But—I came here to get you, so we got to go."