I Was Abducted

Chapter 22 Jackson

I watch as Blondie brings the fork to her mouth and her eyes roll as soon as it reaches her tastebuds. My lips turn it a smirk as soon as she notices me staring. "Don't watch me!" She shouts in embarrassment.

I let out a deep chuckle and return to my own food. Two days in a row with Blondie. I'm not going to lie it does kind of surprises me. I do everything on impulse. She said she was hungry and I immediately took her to get food. I don't mind though, I would do it again.

"So... did you have a lot of friends back in Idaho?" Blondie asks swallowing her food.

"A few," I say shoveling more food into my mouth. I had many friends I guess. I was partying every night. I met a lot of people throughout my years.

Everyone knew about Raymond and growing up I got teased a lot so, I would get into many fights. I would fight over everything. If someone did something I didn't like I would smash my fists into their face. I guess that's just a trait you get from living with someone like Raymond. Over the years I've gained a little bit of self-control, but I lose it often.

"Do you still talk to them?" Blondie asks pulling me out of my thoughts.

"No," I say shaking my head. I cared for some of my friends, but at the same time, I didn't. Moving away from them didn't upset me. I don't care.

"Why not?" Blondie has always been nosy. Curiosity gets the best of her.

"Because I moved to a different fucking state. Why the fuck would I still talk to them?" I immediately regret how I phrased that. It came out harsh. "I mean there's no point to talk to them anymore," I say softer this time.

"But isn't it nice to catch up with someone?" Blondie asks turning her head sideways. I shrug wanting this conversation to end.

"No need," I growl. Blondie sighs loudly causing my brow to raise at her. She's high maintenance.

"So I'm guessing you don't have a close friend," she says picking at her food with her fork.

"Blondie... nobody is close to me and nobody will be. Alright?" I sound like a stern teacher but she needs to be taught. I've never had a close friend and I sure as hell don't want one.

"Whatever you say Mr. Grumpy," she says shrugging. Jesus this girl talks too much.

"Mr. Grumpy?" I ask rolling my eyes. I don't like nicknames. I tolerate it when Charlie calls me Jack.

"It's a fitting name don't you think?" Her laughs fills the room and people near turn their heads. I eye everyone, daring them to tell her to be quiet.

I pull my lips to the side and silently nod. I wasn't always grumpy. I had genuine laughs and heartfelt tears. Wide smiles and dreams. Dreams of being an astronaut that bounces on the moon. Hugs and kisses from my loving parents. Jumping on the bed and being reminded of the monkey that bumped his head.

It all seems like a distance memory. A memory that exists only in the deepest parts of my mind. But sometimes, when I close my eyes I listen to that familiar humming in my chest. I can feel the same emotions I used to feel. Even if it lasts for a split second, it means the world to me.

When I dream, I dream of our perfect little house in Idaho. A swing set in the backyard and the smell of mom's pancakes in the morning. I dream of dad teaching me how to play football. The feelings I felt when I made a touchdown.

Grandpa blowing the smoke from his pipe into my face. I always told him it reminded me of an amusement park. Grandma would pinch my cheeks until they were bright pink.

Our family was perfect. Until it crumbled. It crumbled like a beautiful statue being knocked over. Pieces of stone sliding across the ground like a bad car accident. An ugly mess.