Work was a goddamn nightmare.

                My head still hurt and I hadn't managed to take a nap. I was exhausted and trying my hardest to be charming. It was a struggle, though. I felt like everyone was being extra annoying. Why did people have to bring their screaming children in on the night that I felt like Hell itself had been shoved into my ears?

                "Ace, you look really sick. Are you alright?" Ryan asked me.

                "I'll be fine," I said.

                "Ace, come on, this is a restaurant. We can't be working if we're sick. Especially not the waiters," he said nervously.

                "I'm not sick," I growled. "I'm hungover and exhausted."

                "Go home," Ryan said.

                "I need the cash," I said, plunging myself back into the busy restaurant to do my job. I just wanted this night to be over so I could go home and sleep. Maybe we'd have some leftover wine or something that I could use to ease me into sleep. Sometimes Christian's grandfather sent us wine.

                My shift seemed to drag on forever. I thought I was never going to leave this nightmare.

                But my shift finally ended and I hurried out of the restaurant. I closed my eyes as the night breeze hit my face, easing my headache just the slightest amount.

                I opened my eyes and stared in surprise. Jack looked back at me from his car, the passenger side window rolled down.

                "Get in loser," he said. "We're going shopping."

                "I wasn't aware my life had become Mean Girls," I said.

                "Whatever. I had a chance and I wasn't going to waste it. Get your shit and get in. We need to have a little chat," he said.

                I eyed him warily but went and retrieved my bike. I put it in his trunk and climbed into the front seat, shutting the door.

                He took off towards his apartment. "Dex isn't home. He's off with some friends," he said, breaking the silence between us. "They're at the bar, I think. He's probably hoping to see you."

                "I'm too young to die," I said.

                "Then you shouldn't get yourself blackout drunk only to wander the streets alone at night," Jack said.

                "Hey, I don't tell you how to live your life," I said.

                What did Jack want with me? Did he want his money back? Was he going to try to threaten me away from Delaney?

                He parked his car and we got out. He led me into the apartment and up to his bedroom, shutting the door once I was in.

                I sat on his bed, leaning against the wall and rubbing my temples. Jack opened his drawer and tossed a bottle of pills at me. He grabbed a water bottle from under his bed and tossed me that as well.

                "Focus, kid. I can't have you dying of migraines when I'm trying to talk," Jack said.

                I took the pills and nodded at Jack to talk. I was curious, I'd give him that. I hadn't expected him to pick me up from work.

                "You didn't tell Delaney that you were here last night," he said.

                "No, I didn't," I agreed.

                "He came downstairs today all mopey because you said you weren't feeling well and didn't want to hang out. He had no idea you were hungover or that you slept in my room. Why didn't you tell him?" Jack asked.

                I shrugged. "Didn't seem important."

                "I guess a lot of things don't seem important to you," Jack grumbled.

                I narrowed my eyes at him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was there any way he could know about my family...No, no. I was being paranoid. That was all.

                "Well, did you tell him?" I asked.

                Jack shook his head. "Nope."

                "Why did you give me the money?" I asked.

                Jack sighed and looked out of his window. "I don't know."

                I felt anger creeping up on me, standing up and shoving him. "I hate pity," I hissed.

                He shoved me back, hard enough to make me stumbled and fall back onto his bed. "It wasn't pity," he said and his voice was calm. "If it was pity, I would've let you stay here. You bring these things on yourself, Ace. Believe me when I say that I don't pity you."

                "Then why?" I demanded, pushing myself up into a sitting position and glaring at Jack. Why did people do things like this? Why?

                Jack pulled his hat off, running a hand through the red mane of hair. "I don't know. I already said that. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it's because you actually seemed human for a little. Hell if I know."

                "What, am I usually a friggin' vampire?" I said in annoyance.

                "No," Jack said, shaking his head. "You're usually a cruel little boy stuck playing games." He shot me a grin. "I get it, Ace. I get the dignity. You're up on a high horse holding onto your dignity for dear life. I used to be like that. I thought I was so much better than everyone. My parents yanked me off that high horse and hit me upside the head with my own dignity, though. They weren't going to let me go through life thinking I was better than everyone. Obviously no one ever stopped you."

                I thought of my dad. I thought of all the times he'd crushed any shred of dignity I ever mustered up. I could still picture the refrigerator in our kitchen, decorated with pictures of me and my family alongside tests of mine from school. But dad never put up the tests that I got 100% on. Only the ones that had 99%. He was careful to remind me that I would always fall short.

                I stood up off the bed, drawing myself up and looming over Jack, my eyes flashing. I gave him a dangerous grin.

                "No one can stop me," I said, stepping even closer to him. "No one can control me. I do what I want."

                Jack stood his ground, keeping his expression calm. He held his arms out to the side, leaving himself wide open.

                "Go ahead," he said. "Hit me."

                I stared at him in confusion. Why wasn't he fighting back? The guys at home would've whooped my ass in a second. I'd gotten into some pretty bad physical fights with Jer before, especially once Alexis was gone. And if I'd ever done something like this to my dad or my aunt, they would've snapped every bone in my body.

                So why wasn't Jack fighting back?

                Jack slowly dropped his arms. "You're damaged goods, Ace."

                I glared at him. "Say that again and I'll throw you out the damn window."

                Jack set his hat down and leaned against the wall. He gave me a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

                "I can't tell which is more twisted; your mind or your heart," he said.

                "I'm leaving," I said, turning my back on him and moving towards the door. He thought he was so much damn better than me. I'd prove him wrong.

                Jack grabbed my arm. "Hey, wait. We weren't done talking."

                I spun around, expecting to hit him. But I couldn't bring myself to bring my fist full swing, so it hung in midair, aimed at Jack.

                Why why why why why why

                Over and over again, the question raced through my mind, endless. A question without an answer. Why had Jack given me that money? Why couldn't I bring myself to just hit him?

                Jack looked at my fist with fearless eyes. He didn't release my arm as his eyes shifted to stare into mine.

                "What," he mumbled. "I can't figure out what made me give you that money."

                That snapped me out of my thoughts and I shook Jack off. We were from different worlds. I was angry. He was calm. I was too broke to afford to pay my friends back. He had enough money to slip into people's wallets without a second thought. I asked "why". He asked "what".

                I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket and opened it, grabbing the money and slapping it against Jack's chest. To my satisfaction, he winced a little.

                "I don't want your damn charity," I said. I forced a smirk. "Why would I need your charity when I already have your best friend?"

                Jack looked down at my hand which was still pressing the money against his chest. "Keep it and leave Dex alone. He's not part of this. It's me you're angry at."

                "Try telling him that." My smirk grew and I moved towards the door again.

                "Who's Alexis?" Jack asked.

                I froze, caught off guard. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was watching me with that same calm expression.

                "He used to live with us," I said. "But he's the kind of guy who would abandon his own friends. He can go to hell for all I care."

                I didn't care about Alexis. I didn't care that he had tried to help me. He had abandoned us, all of us, chosen a relationship over his family, I hope to god that he felt-

                "-guilty, I hope you feel so damn guilty Ace!" dad cried, throwing me up against the wall. "It's your fault she's gone! You're the reason your mother left! I hope you feel so goddamn guilty! I hope you're damn grateful that I haven't left you too. You're such a bad kid!"

                I shrank in on myself. "I'm sorry dad! I'm sorry!"

                Tears were racing down my face as my father loomed over me. He wouldn't hurt me, I knew he wouldn't hurt me because he was a good dad. But I hated when he yelled at me. I hated the way that I had broken my family. I made my mom leave. It was all my fault. All my damn fault.

                My dad opened his mouth and I knew the next word to leave his mouth was going to be-

                "-Ace!"

                I blinked in confusion and looked up at Jack. He was watching me carefully.

                "You zoned out," he said.

                "I was thinking about how much I want to punch you in the face," I said.

                Jack looked out of the window. "Delaney told me that you like to play cards. You know what's interesting about the ace in a deck? Sometimes it's the highest card, the trump one, the one you silently cheer when you get. You want the ace when you're playing games like war and screw your neighbor. Sometimes it's just another card, no special meaning. Like when you're playing spit or go fish. And then sometimes it's the lowest card, the one you really don't want to get stuck with. You ever played chase the ace? You get the ace, you're screwed."

                I grinned a little. "Interesting analogy, very fascinating and all. But aren't chase the ace and screw your neighbor the same game?"

                Jack shrugged. "Depends who you play with, I guess. My grandma taught me that in screw your neighbor, ace is the highest." He met my eyes again. "It's all about who you're playing with."

                "Try telling that to Delaney," I said.

                "It's funny. Did you know that ace originally was a bad-luck term? But when it came to cards, ace changed to a positive thing," Jack said.

                "Thanks for the lesson. I'll keep it in mind," I said.

                Jack was chewing on his lip thoughtfully. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze sliding back to the window.

                "You're easy to figure out," he mumbled, more to himself.

                "Am I?" My grin grew. "Damn, and here I always thought I was unreadable."

                "I won't let you hurt Delaney," he said. I hated the calm atmosphere about him. I hated how sure he seemed. "Karma's a mean bitch, Ace."

                "I've dealt with a lot of mean bitches," I said. "It takes a lot more than that to scare me, Jackass."

                He let out a noise that was a mix between a sigh and a laugh. "Get out of my house."

                "You're the one who dragged me here," I reminded.

                "And now I'm telling you to get out," he said.

                "I know my bike is the envy of the town, but you can't steal it," I said.

                "Damn, I forgot." He grabbed his car keys and shoved me out of the room, moving past me and going downstairs.

                I followed after him and we went outside. Jack unlocked the car and helped me get my bike out of the trunk.

                "Sadly, I know this isn't the last we'll be seeing of each other. I'd appreciate it if you could stop taking advantage of Delaney's desperate stupidity, though," Jack said.

                I didn't say anything, just got on my bike and rode away from him. It was dark out now, but I could see well enough to find my way back home.

                I felt exhaustion claiming me as I got closer to the house. The medicine Jack gave me must have had a drowsy side effect. Either that, or I was just wiped out from working on a hangover.

                Whatever the reason, I found myself staggering a little as I got off my bike. I put it in the garage and shut the door, climbing the stairs to the porch, my legs feeling heavy. I smelled like a mixture of foods, as I always did when I left work, and I knew that I should shower. But all I could think about was my warm bed.

                "Ace?"

                Jer got up from his usual seat on the porch. He eyed me and shook his head in annoyance.

                "You look like shit," he said.

                I sat down in one of the chairs on the porch, closing my eyes. "Thanks, I always appreciate compliments."

                "You're not sleeping on the damn porch. Quit being a lazy ass!" He grabbed my arm and yanked me so that I was standing. He dragged me into the house and helped me up the stairs, pushing me onto my bed once we reached my room. He yanked my shoes off and tossed them on the floor. "Christ, I am not your damn maid!"

                I yanked the covers over myself and buried my face into my pillow, feeling so unbelievably tired. Jer grumbled out something as he turned the lights off and shut my door, leaving me alone in the darkness.

                I couldn't stop thinking about Jack, though. Even as my thoughts began to fade away into sleep, Jack was clear in my mind.

                Why hadn't he hit me back when I went to strike him? Why didn't he protect himself from me? He should've hit me back. Everyone always did. That was just what you did when someone was about to hit you; you hit them back, harder.

                That question would haunt me until the day I died, I think. It had been running through my head ever since my mom bailed on me and now it was haunting me more than ever.

                Why, why, why.

                                                                                                ***

                I opened my eyes, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I checked the time, realizing that it was the middle of the night. How long had I been asleep for?

                I stood up and stretched my stiff bones before leaving my room. I had never eaten dinner and I was starving now.

                Going downstairs and into the kitchen, I jumped back in surprise. Ike looked up at me, his phone pressed to his ear.

                "I have to go, Joshie," he said. "No, everything is fine. But it's late. Go to bed. Yea, yea, love you too kid."

                He tapped something on his phone before putting it into his pocket. He was wearing sweatpants and a tattered shirt, looking tired.

                "Siblings are great," I said.

                "You didn't even have any," Ike said, opening the fridge and pulling out the water jug.

                "I had a cousin who was Joshie's age." I grinned at him. "Your brother and my cousin could be friends and we wouldn't even know it."

                "Joshie was texting me because he couldn't sleep. I called him to make sure he didn't have a nightmare. That happens to him sometimes. He dreams about our parents," Ike said, pouring us both water. "Christian saved you dinner. It's in the blue-lid container."

                "Do you dream about your parents?" I asked, taking the water from him and searching for the container of food.

                "Sometimes." Ike sipped his water, leaning against the counter. "Unlike you, my parents were loving."

                I grabbed the container and stood up. "Who said mine weren't?"

                "Abandonment and abuse aren't love," Ike said.

                I put the food on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. That was one thing that had always bothered me. Had my dad, in his own sick, twisted way, loved me?

                My aunt, she had spent hardly any money on her son. She smacked him around and punished him like it was her favorite hobby. She would scream at him and even starve him sometimes if he did something that really pissed her off.

                When I asked my dad why she did all those things, he said it was because people loved in different ways. He told me that she was trying to be strict with him because he was such a bad kid. He'd been getting in trouble with the cops ever since he was in elementary school.

                In his own way, I think my dad did love me. It was his own version of love. Control me, keep me to himself, beat me down so I would never feel better than him. If I felt better than him, I'd leave him for someone else.

                But that's what you had to do sometimes. People would leave you if you didn't find a way to make them stick around. Hey, maybe my dad had the right idea. A little overdone, but a good attempt.

                Jack and Delaney entered my thoughts. I'd been worming my way into Delaney's heart, but maybe it was about time I exercised some control over him to keep him with me.

                And Jack...

                I turned and threw my fist at Ike. He ducked out of the way, looking surprised. He grabbed my arm and backhanded me, glaring.

                "Have you lost your damn mind?" he demanded.

                I let out a laugh. "That's how people are supposed to react."

                Ike slowly released my arm, his eyes searching me. "You're coming apart, Ace."

                I took my food out of the microwave and sat down with it, beginning to eat. "I'm more put together than any of you."

                When you were shattered, you had to learn to put yourself back together. You used anything you could as glue and tape and even if it was messy, at least it was your own art piece. Sometimes art was ugly even when it was carefully created, and life was no different.

                Ike watched me for a moment before heading upstairs without another word. I ate my food alone in the silence of the night, my thoughts filling those quiet spaces all around me.

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A.N.- I posted this whole story on Radish and then just...sort of forgot to finish uploading it here. But some of you wanted me to keep posting it, so I'll upload the rest of the chapters to Wattpad, too. I'll keep a steady flow of updates so I don't post the whole story at once and blow up everyone's notifications. Sorry for the super long delay!