Jack dreaded the alarm for work every morning. And although he knew it would always ring like clockwork.
Sometimes he laid there in the darkness of his bedroom with the vague hope it wouldn't.
Skyland Park Psychiatric Hospital was a place Jack dreaded returning to, and as he sat in his car outside the building he felt the energy from him begin to drain with just the thought of what faced him today.
For this was truly the home of the broken toys and Jack was burdened with the task of attempting to somehow put them back together.
And today was an especially unique day as even though he hadn't bothered to look at his phone he knew without question Earl had already messaged him about his daughter Natalie.
Natalie was a sixteen year old girl who had tried to kill herself for unknown reasons.
And upon her botched attempt at slitting her own wrist, it was discovered by her parents her body was a mess of scars for their daughter was a cutter.
Jack had dealt with many in his field but he knew Natalie although vaguely as him and Earl had not been in touch in a few years.
The job took everything out of Jack; it was an emotional drain on a level most could not fathom.
And as he sat in his office he stared at his degrees on the wall as he sipped from his flask he kept in his desk.
The booze was the only thing that worked anymore and without it, this job would have been impossible.
There was a knock at his door as Tanya popped her head in.
“Jack , Miss Cason is here to see you.”
She said as she opened the door as Natalie was standing behind her.
Jack, like some pre-programmed robot, stood up.
“Have a seat Natalie, is there anything I can get you?”
“How bout glass of whatever you're having?”
Tanya caught herself from laughing but Jack cracked up.
It was no secret amongst the staff that Jack was on the decline. But he got results and as long as he wasn't puking on the floor and slapping nurses' asses it was overlooked due to his track record.
“Don’t think that would go too well with your meds kiddo.”
Jack said as he sat down behind his desk.
“I thought all you head shrinks were supposed to have couches?”
“It's in the shop, needed some new shock absorbers.”
“Really, sounds like you've been having a hell of a party in here although you probably shouldn't be screwing your patients.”
Natalie said as she looked around the room at Jack's plaques on the wall and other assorted crap.
Very little fazed Jack anymore. And the girl's smartass nature didn't diminish the fact she had carved herself up like a Halloween jack o lantern.
It didn't take diplomas on the wall to tell she was a mess and it didn't take a degree for Jack to read someone in seconds.
That was what his family had called the gift and what he himself considered a fucking curse.
And as soon as the girl had entered the room he sensed it. No matter how much he tried to fight it the images flooded his thoughts as the pain was absorbed within his very bones.
“Hello are you okay?”
Natalie asked as Jack realized he was drifting.
The session was the usual chip away and build the confidence stuff he did on a daily basis.
She was fractured and although he wished he didn't, he could fully understand why.
“Aren't you going to ask me why I did it ? I mean that is your job right or do you just get paid to sit on your ass nod your head and drink on the clock?”
Natalie snapped.
“Is that what you really want me to ask you? The same tired shit everyone else does?
What do you expect me to say something so life changing it just shocks you to the core?
Look, you wanted an escape plain and simple I see it everyday people get sick of the bullshit.
And turn to everything, but face their problems including death."
Natalie was silent as Jack leaned forward.
“Look all I can tell you is this. No secret is worth your life no matter how fucked up it is.”
Natalie teared up as Jack knew it was far too soon to do what he had just done.
“Fuck you! What the hell do you know anyways you prick!”
“I know no matter the scars and attempts at making yourself as ugly as you feel on the inside it’s not going to stop until you say something.”
The girl went silent and Jack knew the session was a failure.
As he knew his days at this job were coming to a close.
He knocked off early and phoned his old friend and the girl's father.
"Jack! Man why haven't you answered my texts I get you’re busy.”
“Earl I’m sorry I don't mean to cut you off but are you free? Maybe we can take a ride so we can talk about Natalie.”
Earl didn't question his old friend and as he headed towards the park he couldn't help but notice just how bad Jack looked.
“Dude you really look like shit man, have you been sleeping at all?”
Jack didn't reply but Earl understood his old friend better than most; he was always a bit distant and continually lost within his own thoughts to a degree.
Jack had been silent the whole drive to the park and as they exited the car and headed up towards the trail. that headed towards the overlook it was the weird awkwardness in his silence that slowly eat at Earl.
“Dude I get you love nature and all, but are we ever going to talk about my daughter or are you just going to expect me to read your thoughts or something.”
Jack finally loosened up and almost laughed.
“Sorry man I get a little strange these days probably just too much damn work.”
“It’s fine dude but what the hell are we doing here?”
“I just wanted to talk somewhere outside that goddamned office Earl, as for your daughter. What can I say she is tough you have to be ballsy to try to take your own life after all.”
“I just don't get why is all, I mean her life isn't perfect but I do my best to give everything she wants.”
Earl said as he finally stepped into the clearing that was an incredible view no matter how fucked up a day it was.
“It’s never about stuff Earl. it’s about escape, she cannot take life right now. She needs to heal and with time hopefully she will.”
“Heal from what!”
Earl asked, agitated as often those that feel guilty tend to overcompensate with aggression.
Jack just looked at the horizon unfazed by an old friend's change in tone.
“You know why they call the place the Devil's Courthouse Earl?”
“I don't know Jack, who gives a shit!”
“Theres an old cave here that the Cherokee claimed is where the Devil holds court.”
“Look Jack thanks for the history lesson but I’m done with this bullshit I’m more worried more about my daughter's life than your stupid fucking games. Now take me the fuck home now!”
Earl said as he turned to walk away.
“Does your wife know you been fucking your own daughter ?, or she just glad your slimy ass is giving her a break.”
Jack called out.
“What the fuck did you just say to me you piece of shit!”
Earl spun around ready to fight but was met with a loud bang as the bullet slammed into his chest knocking him to the ground forcing the wind from his lungs.
Jack walked towards Earl void of all emotion firing again as he unloaded the revolver into his former friend.
Still Earl was not dead but he was well on his way as blood flowed from his mouth.
Jack looked at him as he struggled in vain to move.
He watched him die as he knew there was truly no point handing out anything else than murder.
Jack knew it was pointless to fix something only to hand it back to the person who had broken it in the first place.
He also knew Earle’s daughter could not speak against him; he sensed it from the beginning.
No matter how fucked up a parent is towards a child they are still their parent all the same.
And as Jack now stood upon the ledge looking at the valley below, he could no longer bare this so-called gift of sight.
Jack Thompson could no longer be the man to fix the broken toys of this existence.
So with one last drink he took a step towards his true escape.
At the Devil's court Jack had become judge, jury and his own executioner.
Case Closed.
John Patrick Robbins, is the editor in chief of The Rye Whiskey Review and the author of The Still Night Sessions from Whiskey City Press.
His work has been published here at The Dope Fiend Daily, The San Antonio Review, Fearless Poetry Zine, Piker Press, The San Pedro River Review, Lothorian Poetry Journal, Red Fez, Punk Noir Magazine.
His work is always unfiltered.
