Setting
INK
Jack's lighthearted mood disapated and the smile died on his lips. There weren't many things that upset Jackson Sharp. He wasn't a very sensitive or vulnerable person. He usually didn't let things get to him. There was only one thing in the world that never failed to pull a dark cloud over his head. Being reminded of his father. Try being beaten for half your life, she'd said. He'd been abused by his father for ten years . . . He was twenty one. He really had been beaten for half of his life.
He gave Isabelle one of his very rare glares. He narrowed his eyes at her and grimaced, resisting the urge to bare his teeth at her. "Well I guess that means I have every right in the fucking world to talk to you," he snarled, "Because, news flash, I was abused too. But you don't see me crying about it and wasting my life being a boring-as-fuck whiny little bitch. So if you want someone to share your sob story with, try Lifetime, because I'm the last person in the world who's going to feel sorry for you."
In a vampire quick motion, he snatched the bottle from Hayley's hand and jumped from the hot springs. He chugged the Vodka - at least half of the bottle, before pulling it away from his lips. Coughing and gagging, he threw the bottle against the cave wall, where it shattered. He stomped away then, dripping wet and seething. He entered the house and shook his wet hair out like a dog. The little droplets that fell from his hair and body got all over the floor but Jackson could care less.
He had never told anybody in the coven about his dad. Because Jackson Sharp was no whiny little fucker. The past was in the past and that was where it would stay. He wasn't going to go around sharing his sob story with people to get sympathy. Sympathy was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want people to feel sorry for him. Because, in reality, he didn't feel sorry for himself. Sure, his childhood had been suckish but there were worse things that could've happened to him. And besides, his dad had been put away, eventually. Not to mention that he'd had a great mom. So, all in all, he felt no desire to have other's feel sorry for him. And he had no respect for people who did.
He gave Isabelle one of his very rare glares. He narrowed his eyes at her and grimaced, resisting the urge to bare his teeth at her. "Well I guess that means I have every right in the fucking world to talk to you," he snarled, "Because, news flash, I was abused too. But you don't see me crying about it and wasting my life being a boring-as-fuck whiny little bitch. So if you want someone to share your sob story with, try Lifetime, because I'm the last person in the world who's going to feel sorry for you."
In a vampire quick motion, he snatched the bottle from Hayley's hand and jumped from the hot springs. He chugged the Vodka - at least half of the bottle, before pulling it away from his lips. Coughing and gagging, he threw the bottle against the cave wall, where it shattered. He stomped away then, dripping wet and seething. He entered the house and shook his wet hair out like a dog. The little droplets that fell from his hair and body got all over the floor but Jackson could care less.
He had never told anybody in the coven about his dad. Because Jackson Sharp was no whiny little fucker. The past was in the past and that was where it would stay. He wasn't going to go around sharing his sob story with people to get sympathy. Sympathy was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want people to feel sorry for him. Because, in reality, he didn't feel sorry for himself. Sure, his childhood had been suckish but there were worse things that could've happened to him. And besides, his dad had been put away, eventually. Not to mention that he'd had a great mom. So, all in all, he felt no desire to have other's feel sorry for him. And he had no respect for people who did.