jdcartwright (jdcartwright) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-11-09 08:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | jd cartwright |
End of one 'career', beginning of another
Who: JD and his uncle
What: Flashback
When: March 1996
Where: Cemetery
Ratings Mention of accident, injury, death.
He took his frustration out on the wheelchair, angrily pushing at the steel handrail on the one side attempting to propel himself along the footpath leading back to the waiting cars. It was more than challenging with just the one arm, the other strapped to the brace that held it secured to his chest. His leg stuck out in front, a full length cast from hip to ankle in place to keep his knee stabilised while it healed.
The hearse had already departed, just the black cars provided for family were waiting now, and JD blinked furiously to clear the tears that were fogging his vision as tried to push his way toward the one they’d arrived in. He felt the pressure from behind as someone caught up and took a hold of the handles, now pushing him toward the vehicle.
“Hey there, lad, ease up,” came the familiar gravelly voice of his uncle. The man had taken over the propulsion and JD rested his hand in his lap, skin burning with the new blisters.
“Y’re allowed to be angry,” the voice said. “Just not at y’self. It’s the other driver who did the damage, not you, and y’ know she’d be gettin’ all sorts of cross with you… in fact I reckon she is, and y’know that’s never a good thing, right?”
JD shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to clear the tears and sniffing hard after wiping his fist across his face. His mother had had a fiery temper, his uncle, her brother, knew even better than most how fierce she could be.
They reached the car, the driver having seen them approaching and opening the door, heading to the other side of the vehicle to help JD into the back seat. It took some maneuvering, and the next port of call would be back to the hospital. The doctors had, under duress, allowed him to attend his mother’s funeral, which had been delayed until they had begrudgingly agreed he was able to go. So dosed up on painkillers and with a borrowed wheelchair, the car, driver, and his uncle and father had collected him that morning to take him to the church, then the cemetery.
“Just promise me one thing, Uncle,” he said as he withstood the ignominy of his uncle and the driver having to gently man-handle him across the seat until his leg was safely inside and the door could be closed. His uncle paused, one hand on the side of the car, the other arm on the top of the open door.
“What is it?” he asked, looking across the car at the tear-streaked, angry, face.
“That whoever did this? Pays.”
His uncle nodded slowly. He wasn’t about to give JD the statistics on the chances of finding who’d been behind the wheel of the stolen car, especially given the only fingerprints and DNA traces found belonged to the owner who’d reported it missing a couple of hours before the accident, and a man who’d been dead for four years.
“You know us Cartwrights, we always get the bad guys,” his uncle said, giving JD a wink and closing the car door. He straightened, grimaced, looked across the roof of the car and gave the driver a quick nod, then turned to return to the graveside and check on his brother-in-law, JD’s father, Jason Snr.