Page 14 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

“No.”

Yet, as his parents lay on the floor of their home, beaten and nearly broken, barely hanging onto life, the boy still refusing the offerings of the man in the black hooded cloak, it became apparent that the boy would not be broken. Yes, he might cry and scream out with guilt and fear, but he would do exactly as he had been taught all of his life. He would say:

“No.”

When the man in the black hooded cloak lifted his hand, not to strike the child physically, but to deliver another kind of punishment, the boy’s grandfather intervened. He pleaded with the man to give him a moment with the boy, to talk sense into him. And, under the watchful eye of the man in the black hooded cloak, the grandfather convinced his grandson to say:

“Yes.”

“No” became a “yes.”

And the man in the black hooded cloak was appeased. He gave the boy what he had come to give him. As quickly as he arrived, so he departed. And the grandfather told his grandson that he now had a new task. He was never to use his gift. To do so would make him succumb to the will of the man in the black hooded cloak. So, no matter what, he was to bury his knowledge of his gift far into his subconscious. Forget that it was there. Never speak of it. Never even think of it. And he could still yet be saved from generations of bondage and imprisonment.

The young boy nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.

In the morning, his parents would be worse for the wear, but they would be alive. And the boy had already begun building the walls in his mind that would trap his secret. He would speak of it to no one. One day, he would forget that he ever knew his secret.

The man in the black hooded cloak had been fooled.

He had achieved what he had come to do, but the boy had proved his will was stronger than even the man in the black hooded cloak knew.

Even if the day came that the gift was remembered, and he spoke of it to anyone, he knew what he would do.

And that would be anything but serve the man in the black hooded cloak.

Power unused has only one thing to do.

Grow.

What once was a seed delivered to the soil by a passing bird becomes a mighty Sequoia that shades the woodland creatures.

What once belonged to no one ends up belonging to everyone.

What once had a particular purpose ends up deciding its own fate.

There is power in stubbornness.

There is power in:

“No.”

Lucas said nothing when I violently threw the book into the backseat floorboard of the car. He said nothing as I fell into the driver’s seat of my car. Even as he climbed into the passenger seat, stoic and resigned, he said nothing. We sat at the Point Worth city limits for longer than necessary, since we knew there was only one way to go—nothing else to consider. When I sighed to myself, my hand reaching for the gearshift, Lucas’ hand found mine. Together, we pulled the gearshift down to reverse. Lucas’ eyes met mine:

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you, too,” I replied. “More than anything else.”

A quick kiss, a lingering glance, and I slowly backed up, turned the car around, and pointed us towards Point Worth once more.

If we couldn’t leave as one, we would stay together.

Maybe that upset Lucas, feeling as though he had conscripted me when my fate had been decided, but it wasn’t his fault. I could have left if I wanted to go. But, without Lucas, my life in Hollywood would have slowly turned into the living nightmare it had been before. I would rather stay in Point Worth. Face whatever was to come. I knew what waited in Hollywood. At least in Point Worth, I knew there was a chance for something better. Even if we had to walk through Hell to get to it.

At least my hand would be holding his in this version of Hell.