Chapter 4: Jayden’s Past Reality
Jayden Cross's life had never been on the up. Not now, not last week, not ever. If there was a highlight reel for misery, he'd probably narrate the whole damn thing with a mic and a whiskey glass.
By the time he was five, he'd already forgotten what happiness tasted like.
Maybe it was strawberry pancakes on a Saturday morning. Maybe it was warm socks and cartoons before bed. Either way, whatever "happy" was, it packed up and left without leaving a note.
His parents? Walking red flags wrapped in bad decisions and overdue bills. They didn't just split until he was seven, but let's be honest—their love expired long before the paperwork showed up. Their nightly arguments were like free horror podcasts: loud, depressing, and wildly inappropriate for children.
Every single night, Jayden would hold his baby sister in his arms like a damn human soundproof blanket, pressing her head into his chest and whispering; "Don't listen, baby. It's just noise. They're just tired, okay?"
He knew she heard every word anyway.
She always did.
For two years, that was the nightly routine. Cry. Cuss. Break a few plates. Threaten to leave. Stay. Repeat.
Then came the final blowout—the grand finale in their slow-burning apocalypse.
And of course, Jayden wasn't even home for it.
Because why would he be?