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No I had to get that journal back I found roaned open wide

Chapter 12

"Mr or Ms Deveaux?" No answer "I need to talk to Jackson," I called as I stepped into the house

I saw no one inside but still got an eyeful Just as bad as the outside

Theso loondered if Jackson had to duck to walk around Dangling fro like a bee

The solehad been boarded up The door to a roo from inside

On the left as a ridiculously s pan Soame was chopped in chunks, already breaded in corn on that counter?

Why leave the stove on? "Jackson, where are you?" With a despairing eye, I took a closer look around the rooarette burn holes pocking the arms Frayed sheets had been spread over the sunken cushions

His boots sat on the floor at the foot of the couch This is where he sleeps?

My lips parted He didn’t even have his own rooinners book lay on the floor, spine cracked and opened in the middle, with a worn copy of Robinson Crusoe beside it That novel wasn’t on our reading list So he read for enjoy tugging inside of hteen-year-old boy ould have a boy’s plans and drea away from this hellhole

It struck er faded, I reminded myself that what little I knew, I hated Still, I foundforward to turn off the stove before the place caught fire

I nibbled my lip Where is he? What if my sketchbook was at Lionel’s? I didn’t see any of the phones here either

After I turned off the burner, I heard yelling fro pelted the tin roof I gave a cry of surprise, but that noise drowned it out "Just the rain," I murmured tobulging sea down to the floor, over the couch Jackson would have nowhere dry to sleep tonight

I ju sounds shook the house, as if so up a back set of stairs When a door sla door creaked open

Morbid curiosity drew me closer One peek and I’ll slip out

On a stained ed woled halo around her head She was nearly indecent, her robe hiked high up her legs A rosary with glinting onyx beads and a s over the side, an eertips A plate of untouched scras and toast sat atop a box crate by the bed

Was that Ms Deveaux?

A tall, sunburned side the bed, yelling at her unconscious for with one fist and his own liquor bottle

Was the man her husband? Her boyfriend?

I knew I needed to leave, but I was riveted to the spot, could no

Then I saw Jackson on the other side of the bed, pulling her robe closed Shaking her shoulder, he urgentlybut didn’t azed at her face, so protectivelyI knew he’d cooked her that breakfast this

When the drunk lumbered toward her, Jackson s in Cajun French Even hat I understood, I could barely follow Jackson was trying to kick hi hiain Jackson blocked him once more Then the two squared off at the foot of the bed Their voices got louder and louder, bellows of rage as they circled each other

Did the idiot not see that glint in Jackson’s eyes? The one pro, thethe end on the sill With surprising speed, he attacked with the jagged end Jackson warded off the bloith his forearm

I saw bone before blood welled I thrust the back of ine that pain!

But Jackson? Heits teeth

At last, the drunk cla body forward, his fists flying

A stream of blood spurted from the man’s mouth, then another, and still Jackson ruthlessly beat hi frame was brutal, the wildness in his eyes

Why couldn’t I run? Leave this sordid place behind?

Leave these horrific sounds behind--the angry rain on tin, the worunts as Jackson landed blow after blow

Thenone last punch across the ht I heard bone crack

The force of the blow sent theblood and teeth as he went down

With a heartless laugh, Jackson sneered, "Bagasse"

Cane pulp Beaten to a literal pulp I covereddizziness

Now that the man had been defeated, Jackson’s wrath seemed to ebb Until he slowly turned his head in eline, what are you?"

He swept a glance around his ho this hellhole for the first time

Even after Jackson’s display of raw violence, I couldn’t stophim

He must have seen it in my expression, because his face reddened with e His gaze was almost blank with it "Why in the hell did you come here?" The tendons in his neck strained as he stalked toward oddaape as I retreated Don’t turn your back on hiirl like you in the Basin? C’est ça coo-yôn! Bonne à rien! Good for nothing but getting yourself in trouble!" I’d never heard his accent so thick