The air in the room grew heavy, like the stillness before a storm. Doctor Odd's face, pale and waxen, began to flush a deep, unnatural red, as if the anger within him was a living thing, clawing its way to the surface. His voice, sharp and jagged, cut through the silence like a blade.
"Money?!" he bellowed, the word twisting in his throat like a curse. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't need that!" His eyes, dark and hollow, burned with a fury that seemed to stretch beyond the room, beyond the moment itself.
Jenny's hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers clutching at Jack's t-shirt like a lifeline. "Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling, "what have you done?" Her eyes were wide, filled with a dread that seemed to seep into the very walls around them.
Jack didn't look at her. His gaze remained fixed on Doctor Odd and Renie, his expression unreadable, his jaw set like stone. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like something might snap. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, Jack finally spoke.
"Don't worry, Mom," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was something beneath it—something dark and uncertain. He paused, his eyes narrowing as if he were weighing the words before they left his mouth. "Okay," he said at last, "I'll help you. But not right now. I need… I need to get used to this first."
Doctor Odd's mouth opened, his face twisting as if he were about to unleash another torrent of rage. But then, like a switch had been flipped, he stopped. His lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, and he drew in a long, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—a promise, or perhaps a threat.
"Meet me at this place in five days," he said, his words slow and deliberate. He reached into his coat, his movements sharp and precise, and pulled out a card. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning through the air toward Jack. "Don't be late."
Doctor Odd spun on his heel, his coat flaring like the wings of some great, dark bird, and strode out of the room without another word. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Outside, the rumble of an old van coughing to life broke the silence, its engine sputtering like a dying beast.
"Renie!" Odd's voice barked from the driver's seat, sharp and impatient. "What are you doing? Let's go!"
Renie stood frozen, her eyes locked on Jack, as if she were trying to peel back the layers of his soul with her gaze. There was something in her expression—something unreadable, something that made the air feel heavier, colder. Then, as if waking from a dream, she blinked and nodded, tearing her eyes away from him. She cast one last glance over her shoulder, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she turned and climbed into the van, the door slamming shut behind her. The vehicle lurched forward, its tires crunching over gravel as it disappeared into the gloom.
Jack stood still for a moment, the card clutched in his hand. It was plain, white, unremarkable—except for the words printed in small, stark letters: *Odd's Clinic.* Below it, an address was scrawled in a font so tiny it seemed designed to be overlooked. He stared at it, his fingers tightening around the edges, before slipping it into his pocket.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to Jenny, his face softening into a warm smile. "Let's go back home, Mom," he said, his voice calm, reassuring.
Jenny's hand reached up, trembling, and cupped his cheek. Her eyes searched his, filled with a mother's worry, a mother's fear. "Why was he so angry, Jack?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have to understand… he's our benefactor. We owe him so much."
Jack placed his hand over hers, his touch gentle but firm. "Don't worry," he said, his tone steady, though there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. "I'll handle it, Mom. Let's just go back for now."
Jenny hesitated, her worry etched deep into the lines of her face, but she nodded. She trusted him. She always had. Together, they stepped out into the cold, the night air biting at their skin. The street was empty, the only sound the distant hum of the city. They didn't have a car, so they walked in silence to the main road, their footsteps echoing in the stillness.
When the bus finally arrived, its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin beams of hope, they climbed aboard. Jack sat by the window, staring out at the passing shadows, his mind racing. Jenny sat beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes darting to him every so often, as if afraid he might vanish.
The bus rumbled on, carrying them home, but the weight of what had happened—and what was yet to come—hung over them like a storm cloud, dark and unrelenting.
Evening settled over the small apartment like a heavy blanket, the dim glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the cramped living space. The air smelled faintly of old wood and the lingering scent of the cheap instant noodles they'd had for dinner. Jenny moved back and forth between the bedroom and the living area, her arms laden with boxes and bags, her face set in determined lines.
Jack watched her from the couch, his brow furrowing as he saw her hauling her belongings out of the bedroom. He stood, his movements slow but deliberate, and crossed the room to her. "What are you doing, Mom?" he asked, his voice low but edged with concern.
Jenny turned to him, a big, warm smile spreading across her face, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "This will be your room from now on," she said, gesturing to the small bedroom behind her. "You can sleep in the bed, and I'll take the couch."
Jack's frown deepened, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. "You don't have to do this, Mom," he said, his voice firm. "I'm completely fine now. I can sleep on the couch."
Jenny shook her head, her smile unwavering. "No," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This is my decision, and you can't refuse." She set the box down beside the couch with a soft thud and straightened, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Besides," she added, her voice lighter now, "I love sleeping by the TV. I used to do it all the time when I was a kid."
Jack's eyes flicked to the small television in the corner of the living area, its screen dark and dusty. They only had one TV, and Jenny's room had none. He opened his mouth to argue further, but the look on her face stopped him. There was a stubbornness there, a quiet resolve that he knew all too well. She had made up her mind, and there was no changing it.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Mom…" he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"Enough," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been through enough, Jack. Let me do this for you. Please."
Jack stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words settling over him like a stone. He had already caused her so much trouble, so much worry. The last thing he wanted was to make her life harder. But the look in her eyes—the love, the determination—told him that this wasn't about him. It was about her. About what she needed to do.
"Thanks, Mother," he had said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. Jenny had smiled, her eyes glistening with tears, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank God you're safe," she murmured, her voice breaking. "I was so scared."
Jack had felt her tears dampen his t-shirt, her warmth pressing against him. And then—
'Bdumph.'
His heart had lurched, a violent, unnatural thud that sent a shockwave through his body. His muscles tensed, his skin burning as if a fire had been lit beneath it. The strange scent grew stronger, overwhelming, and his mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening.
He looked down, his vision swimming, and saw Jenny's face. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but there was something else there now—a blush spreading across her cheeks, a flicker of something he couldn't quite place. Shame? Embarrassment? His stomach churned as he realized what was happening.
His body had betrayed him.
He glanced down and saw the unmistakable tent in his sweatpants, the fabric straining against the sudden, unwanted pressure. Panic surged through him, hot and sharp, and he stumbled back, breaking the embrace.
Jenny's eyes widened, her gaze flicking downward for the briefest of moments before she quickly looked away. Her hand flew to her chest, her face flushing a deeper red. Without a word, she turned and hurried toward her room, her steps quick and unsteady.
"You should go take a bath," she called over her shoulder, her voice trembling. "I'll clean the room." The door to her room clicked shut behind her, leaving Jack standing alone in the living area, his heart racing, his face burning with shame.
He didn't think. He just moved.
Jack bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with shaking hands. He leaned against the sink, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. His face was flushed, his eyes wide and wild.
'What the hell is happening to me?' he thought, his mind spinning. 'I got a boner because of my mother!'
The thought made his stomach twist, a wave of nausea crashing over him. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and without thinking, he slammed his fist into the wall. The pain was sharp, immediate, but it did nothing to dull the shame burning in his chest.
He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside him. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the inexplicable, the unforgivable.