Until There Was You

twelve

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1 2 | Until There Was You

Waverly seemed to find Jude in the most vulnerable states—always during the times where he felt ripped from his body. Nothing but a lingering soul. In a way, she grounded him and Jude never seemed to mind. Especially as she collected a seat next to him, forcing the beer in his direction. His hand was in too much pain to grab it. As if Waverly realized this, she placed it in his lap instead, and sighed as she leaned her head against the tree. Then, she turned back in Jude's direction.

Jude watched as his hand continued to bleed and bruise and burn under his touch. He was being careless, reckless even, when he decided to deal with his emotions another way, rather than talking about it. That was the thing, Jude knew if he talked about it everything would disperse and spill out like the blood drenching his knuckles. He wouldn't be able to hold it in.

"I thought you could use it," Waverly explained, gesturing to the beer in his lap that started to leave a mark on his pants. He looked down at it, then at his bloody hand where the bruising swelled and his hand burned. All feeling was gone. Completely numb. He wouldn't even be surprised if he found out he broke a few bones. Jude felt absolutely traumatized, and despite the dramatic approach he chose, it still didn't make the feeling of blame go away. Panic was all he could feel next to regret rushing to his face. Jude felt a light sensation ripping in his chest like rain against concrete splattered against the earth.

"What happened to you?" She wondered and at first Jude didn't want to say anything because he knew if he opened his mouth everything would spill out. He stared at the entrance of the house and fear crept up his neck like an eerie fear. Similar to the monsters he was afraid lived under his bed when he was younger. Waverly's eyes sparked with genuine concern; her gaze slid to his hand then back at him. She wanted an answer.

"I fucked up," he whispered out into the hoarseness of the quiet, his own quiet he would presume, and the one that surrounded him and Waverly so desperately. He looked at the parts of his hands that were calloused, damaged, and absolutely bloody, wondering how similar he resembled its reckless state. He wanted to believe his hand hurt more than the pain inside him, but it didn't. Not even the fact that he gave up the last bit of strength he had for his knees to buckle and land in the itchy, yet dying grass.

The tree bark suddenly felt like it had been digging imprints in the back of his skull at the center of his head. He felt the beer stain his pants with it's wetness more and more, and again he didn't care. It hadn't been important. What was important was the fact that he was going to be a father. It was his baby forming inside Beverly. His baby. Her baby. Their baby. A living fucking being brought into the world by the decisions of carelessness.

Maybe, he could turn it into his own form of hope. Raise the kid to be a better person than Jude ever was. Be a better parent than his own parents. Or it could be a form of destruction. Jude wondered if he would even be a good enough parent. Would he be too easy on him or her? Would he be too strict? All those worries dumped into his head spreading throughout his body. With those thoughts came so much more; different paths to his fate.

"Jude, what are you talking about? What happened?"

She was even more concerned now, turning to look at Jude with more worried eyes. His heart pounded in response, unmatched and wild. Irregular and fearful.