Sideshow, Torchwood fanfiction
Title: Sideshow
Author: modern_epitaph
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for "From Out of the Rain" 2x10, death, one swear
Word Count: 340
Summary: "Night after night, he shoved a gun down his throat and squeezed until it all went black."
Three years in, and the music still unsettled him. Three years in, and he still couldn’t bring himself to be amused by the Wolf Boy or the Human Torso. He was the Man Who Couldn’t Die, the crowning attraction in this circus he called his home. Night after night, he shoved a gun down his throat and squeezed until it all went black. It wasn’t much of a life.
Jack didn’t know when he decided to waste his life in a useless novelty sideshow, but it brought in a little money and put a roof over his head. The pain of waking up after each shot left something to be desired, but what was he going to do? As far as he knew, he had an eternity of suicide in front of him. The sick part of his mind got off on it; what better way to punish himself for all his past wrong-doings? It was his atonement. For what? He wasn’t exactly sure.
This traveling company couldn’t claim to be a major festival in any sense; it had been on the verge of being shut down by rather apathetic officials several times, but no one could bring themselves to care enough. They let the freaks get on with their ways so long as they didn’t disturb the peace. It was 1930. The American depression wasn’t an isolated experience - the fall of the market had hit the entire world. There was no money for the entertainment business, not even one that made people feel better about their own lives.
At least, Jack thought, their pathetic lives will end one day.
A thousand lifetimes and Jack would still be there picking himself up, cleaning up his own blood. Getting ready for his 10 o’clock show. People pointing and laughing at him. Fucking perfect.
When the barrel of a gun was pushing out his cheeks, Jack used that split second to think about everything he was missing. Black leather. Blonde hair. Jack was missing but not missed. He pulled the trigger.
Author: modern_epitaph
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for "From Out of the Rain" 2x10, death, one swear
Word Count: 340
Summary: "Night after night, he shoved a gun down his throat and squeezed until it all went black."
Three years in, and the music still unsettled him. Three years in, and he still couldn’t bring himself to be amused by the Wolf Boy or the Human Torso. He was the Man Who Couldn’t Die, the crowning attraction in this circus he called his home. Night after night, he shoved a gun down his throat and squeezed until it all went black. It wasn’t much of a life.
Jack didn’t know when he decided to waste his life in a useless novelty sideshow, but it brought in a little money and put a roof over his head. The pain of waking up after each shot left something to be desired, but what was he going to do? As far as he knew, he had an eternity of suicide in front of him. The sick part of his mind got off on it; what better way to punish himself for all his past wrong-doings? It was his atonement. For what? He wasn’t exactly sure.
This traveling company couldn’t claim to be a major festival in any sense; it had been on the verge of being shut down by rather apathetic officials several times, but no one could bring themselves to care enough. They let the freaks get on with their ways so long as they didn’t disturb the peace. It was 1930. The American depression wasn’t an isolated experience - the fall of the market had hit the entire world. There was no money for the entertainment business, not even one that made people feel better about their own lives.
At least, Jack thought, their pathetic lives will end one day.
A thousand lifetimes and Jack would still be there picking himself up, cleaning up his own blood. Getting ready for his 10 o’clock show. People pointing and laughing at him. Fucking perfect.
When the barrel of a gun was pushing out his cheeks, Jack used that split second to think about everything he was missing. Black leather. Blonde hair. Jack was missing but not missed. He pulled the trigger.