My Song Has Not Been Sung

Jack was the son of a mechanic. He was raised in a garage, learning the in’s and out’s of just about every vehicle known to man. His parents were good people who made sure he went to school, got an education, and had the knowledge to run the car shop so he had a career to fall back on. Unfortunately, Jack’s parents died in a bus accident when he was only fifteen years old. Because they were both Lebanese immigrants who stayed in the United States on a visa not a citizenship, the information of their deaths and their now orphaned son never went through the proper channels. Meaning, Jack was never forced into foster care.

After he lost his parents, Jack had no interest in getting adopted or moving into the foster system. So he found two friends who were also independent and moved in with them while running the garage by himself. His friends, Zack and Rian, both had abusive parents and had filed for teenage emancipation, meaning that they were their own legal guardians and received money from the state to support themselves until they either turned eighteen or graduated high school.

All three of them lived in the apartment over Jack’s garage and shared all of the money that was brought in. Jack had plenty of cash coming in from his repair shop and his part-time job as a pizza delivery boy while Rian and Zack got paid by both the government and their own part-time jobs at McDonald's.

Jack was working on a Corvette's busted engine when his phone dinged annoyingly. After the alarm went off, he put down his tools, washed all the car grease off himself and got changed into his work uniform. He walked to the Pizza Hut he delivered for (was enslaved by) seeing as it was only a mile away.

“Barakat!” His friend, Cassadee, chimed from the back of the restaurant, “Nice of you to show up on time for once.”

“Oh shut up, Case. I’m here and that’s all that matters.” Jack pushed her gently and made his way to the call room behind the kitchen. He played doodle jump on his phone for a few minutes before one of the store’s phones began to ring.

“Pizza Hut, how may I take your order?” He answered, pretending to be chirpy.

“Um, can I have a medium cheese with some breadsticks and a small coke.” A thick English accent replied.

“Sorry, could you repeat that please?” Jack was way too spaced out to understand any voice that wasn’t pure Baltimore.

“Yeah, one medium cheese pizza and breadsticks with a small coke.” The customer restated slowly.

“Alright, your total will be…” Jack tried to punch the order into his register at lightning speed, knowing how unnecessarily pissy people get if their server isn’t The Flash, “$13.47, is there anything else I can get you?”

“No that’s it.”

“Will this be carry out or delivery?”

“Delivery, my address is” the voice on the other end paused and Jack heard quite a bit of shuffling, “um.. 4140 Glenora Lane, apartment 25.”

“Alright, someone will be there shortly.” Jack hung up and grabbed the post-it with the address scribbled on it in horrible handwriting. He also snatched a set of keys to one of the delivery cars and waited by the counter for the order to be ready. Not that it would be a long wait as Pizza Hut pizza basically sits in the oven until someone needs it.

“Delivery?” Cassadee asked as Jack made his way out of the building with the food in his special, pizza-carrying bag.

“Yeah, I’m headed up to Glenora so I’m gonna be like twenty minutes.”

“Oh, rich people neighborhood. I would say to flirt yourself into a nice tip but that would involve you spending more time there and me spending more time managing the phones while you’re gone and I you know how much I hate phone orders.” Cassadee gave him a pat on the back as he left.

“I’ll hurry.” Jack half jogged to the obnoxious car he was forced to drive.

He tossed the pizza bag onto the passenger’s seat and stuffed the keys into the ignition. He pulled the car out into the street and made the slow journey towards his destination.
Honestly, Jack could have probably gotten the delivery done faster if he had just walked. It was 12:30 pm on a Wednesday in the spring, so basically the entire city was getting lunch and crowding up the streets he had to drive on. He stopped about every eleven seconds so more kids on their spring break or adults looking very business-y could cross.

Noon-thirty traffic sucks, why can’t I just get assigned to the register instead of delivery. Jack honked in frustration.

When he finally was able to park outside the building, his jaw dropped. He had done deliveries to the richer areas of the city before, but he had never seen anything like this street before. The structures all had a very sleek, modern look and could probably house Bill Gates with no complaint.

Jack got out of the car and double checked that the address was correct before entering the lobby of the building. The inside was just as outstanding as the exterior. The floor was perfectly smooth, polished wood. The front desk was made of a slightly darker wood with a marble top.
Jack walked up to the person behind the desk, “Hey I got a delivery for apartment 25.”

“Charles can take you up.” The desk person pointed to the wall behind Jack without ever lifting their eyes from the computer they happened to be staring at.

Jack turned around to see two identical elevators. In between them stood a short man in a green hotel uniform. This was probably Charles.

“You said apartment 25, sir?” Charles clarified.

“Uh, yeah. That one.” Jack moved onto the elevator slowly, feeling extremely uncomfortable in his unwashed work shirt and ancient converse that were most definitely tracking mud.

Charles entered the space with and selected the correct button to take them both to the top floor. After the solid 75 seconds of total silence from both people, the doors opened to reveal a thin hallway. On one end, there was a boring gray door labeled “Stairwell”. On the other end, gigantic double doors that looked completely untouched awaited him.

“I’m assuming that’s the apartment.” Jack joked and pointed to the far nicer end of the hallway.

“Yes sir, the only other door in this hall leads to the stairs.” Charles responded with a completely blank expression.

“I was making a…. nevermind.” Jack trailed off and decided to leave the humorless doorman to go back to the lobby.

He approached the door and knocked a few times before realizing that there was a door bell. After ringing it, a shorter boy with golden brown hair answered the door.

“Medium cheese, breadsticks, and a coke?” Jack began to pull the food out of his bag.

“Uh.. yeah thanks. Here’s my card.” The same British voice from earlier spoke.

Jack accepted the card and tried to slide it through the little machine he had brought with him.

“I like your accent, where’re you from?” He knew that the machine would take roughly five swipes to work and didn’t want there an awkward silence.

“London.” The shorter boy responded.

“Welcome to America, I promise we have better pizza than Pizza Hut. Try Papa John’s.” Jack smiled and handed back the card.

“Um.. thanks. Have a good day.” The kid closed the door before Jack could even answer.

“You too.” Jack mumbled to himself then turned around and went back to the elevator. He was used to rude customers, but he thought that kid was kinda cute. He would be lying if he said that that accent wasn’t pretty hot and that he had a small crush on him.

Jack left quickly, not saying any goodbyes to the doorman or the person at the desk. He hopped into the car and began the drive back to his work. By the time he got back, he had perked up a little bit.

“There’s coffee by the phones!” Cassadee called to Jack as he resumed his position from earlier. The day trudged by with nothing exciting happening at all.

Finally, work got out and Jack made his way back to the garage. He knew Zack would be home from work soon so he made a quick bowl of pasta for the two to share then went back to working on cars while he waited.

Suddenly, the back door to the garage swung open violently.

“Zack, I know that you’re buff but you could just open the door like a normal human being.” Jack shouted out, not moving from underneath the car.

“Jack!” A female voice yelled from where the door was ajar. Jack shot out from beneath the car and sent the skateboard he had been using flying into the wall.

“Holy shit, Lynn! Are you okay?” Jack sprinted over to his blonde friend and wrapped her in a hug. Her clothes looked torn and her hair was held in a disheveled ponytail, “What happened to you?”

“I was walking home from work last,” She paused in between sobs, “and I got jumped by some guy, he dragged me into the alley by the courthouse. He pinned me to the wall…” Jack could imagine what had happened.

“Come here,” He hugged her again and kissed her forehead, “you’re gonna be okay. Did you see who attacked you?”

“It was that Bryar guy, Bob I think.” She buried her head into Jack’s shoulder.
“That asshole who smashed all the windows in here?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, him.” Lynn sniffled.

“Okay, I’m going to drive you to the hospital then I’m calling the police. That douche bag is going to prison for what he did to you.” Jack guided her to one of the cars he had just finished up with. He opened the passenger door for her the hopped into the driver’s seat and roared up the engine. The car was older than he was and he would have thought it could break down any minute if he hadn’t been the one to just fix it.

He started to the hospital and shot Zack a quick text to let him know that he wouldn't be home. The car arrived in the emergency bay in record time, nothing to do with Jack going about thirty over the speed limit.

“Here let me help you up.” Jack offered his hand to Lynn after opening up her door for her again. She was lying in a way that almost made her look limp. Tears had continued to stream down her face and her makeup was smeared all across her eyes.

She accepted Jack’s help and let him carry most of her weight as he guided her to the inside of the building.

“I need a doctor!” Jack screamed at everyone in the room they entered.

Someone in light blue scrubs ran to the two and took Lynn’s other arm. She put it around her shoulder and helped carry the blonde to an exam room.

“What happened to her?” The doctor asked.

“She was raped.” Jack stated coldly, the worry and anger pumping through him at lightning pace.

“Have you contacted the police?” The doctor sat Lynn down on the paper covered chair in the center of the room then closed the door.

“No, I was going to do that when we got here.” Jack pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

The doctor left Jack to speak with the police and turned back to Lynn, “Do you want me to do a rape kit? If you want to charge whoever did this to you, it will help your case greatly.” Lynn nodded.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The doctor looked at Jack. He nodded and left the room. A nurse instantly came in with a small case.

“Hello 911, what is your emergency?”

“My friend was raped, we’re at Baltimore General. We want to speak with someone to press charges.” Jack paced up and down the hallway outside the room.

“Detectives will be there shortly to speak with you. If your friend has any clothing that was worn during the attack, please hold on to it.”

“Kay, thanks.” Jack hung up and continued to pace. It was probably only ten minutes that he had to wait, but every second felt like a century.

Finally two detectives arrived. They entered the hospital and spotted Jack immediately.

“You called 911?” One of them asked. He wore a nice suit and had his dark hair styled back. His partner had much lighter hair that brushed around her chin. She held a notepad and a pen.

“Yeah, my friend’s in there,” Jack pointed to the room behind him, “they’re doing a rape kit right now.”

“Can I get both of your names before I go in?” The female detective asked.

“I’m Jack. Barakat. her name’s Lynn Gunn. Well, Gunnulfsen.” Jack replied.

“Can you give us any information about the attack?” The male asked.

“Not really, she came into my garage earlier. She was crying and she told me that a guy jumped her and pulled her into an alley when she was walking home from work last night. He might’ve knocked her out cause my place is only a couple blocks from her work and it wouldn’t have taken her that long to walk there.” Jack took heavy breaths as he recounted his story.

“Did she say who attacked her?” The female asked.

“Yeah, this guy, um Bob Bryar. He’s had it out for us for a while, he threw rocks through all the windows in my garage about a month ago and before that he pickpocketed Lynn’s apartment keys and broke them in the lock.” Jack answered.

“Okay, this will all be very helpful if your friend decides to take this to court,” The female gave Jack a squeeze on the shoulder then turned to her partner, “Ben, call the DA to let him know we have a case for him. I’m sure this Gaskarth guy is itching to do something here and if the rape kit matches the suspect’s DNA then the case will be an easy win. I’ll talk to the girl then get a warrant to arrest Bryar.” Her partner, Ben, pulled out his phone and was soon talking to someone.

The female cop entered the room quietly, leaving Jack in the hallway by himself. He paced in circles for a few minutes before his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Zack.

“Hey dude.” Jack sighed, happy to talk to his friend.

“Hey, what happened? All you said was that you were taking Lynn to the hospital. What happened to her?” Zack questioned.

“That Bryar kid, you know the dick who works at Ace, he attacked Lynn and she’s in pretty bad shape. The cops are talking to her right now. Can you swing by her place and grab a change of clothes for her then meet me here?”

“Of course, I’ll be there in fifteen. Do you want me grab Rian too? I’m sure our boss will let him out early.”

“No that’s fine, just grab the clothes. Thanks.”

“No problem, see you soon.” Zack hung up. Jack went back to pacing. Everyone that walked past him could probably see the stress radiating off of him in waves.

If that DA guy doesn’t get Bryar locked up, I’ll go to that stupid hardware store and kill him myself.

Notes

Heyo, sorry this is kinda intense. That's it I have nothing else to tell you.

Title Creds: Satellite - All Time Low

Your boy, PJ