Derek trumped down the stairs, mumbling to himself. Rolling her eyes to him, Casey frowned upon seeing his disgruntled form.
"Something wrong?" she questioned, trying to remember if anything significant was supposed to happen. Oh. Yeah. He went up to talk to her mother about...well, them. Her mom wanted to talk to him privately after spilling the truth to her. "Ah! What happened? Did she hurt you?"
Getting up, Casey inspected for any wounds. Flicking her hands away, the hockey player dropped into his favorite chair he had been missing so much. Coming down for Christmas break was such a bad idea. Why didn't he listen to Casey? Nothing good comes from that.
"Your mom basically told me if I lay a finger on you in her presence, she won't hesitate to use the kitchen knives," he answered, turning on the TV. "But other than that, I think it was okay."
Casey sighed, relieved. So that meant there was some acceptance. Some. They decided they would start with the mellower person of their parents: Casey's mom. So if they told her, maybe she'd stick up for them when George would go on a rampage.
"That's good. I thought she would have called the police department."
He shot her an alarmed look. Frowning, she tilted her head to the side.
"What?"
"...She got on the phone right after I left the room."
Paling, Casey stood up and gripped his wrist, yanking him up. "Quick! Get the keys and start the car. I'll get our stuff."
They ran in separate directions, intent on leaving the house as soon as possible. Casey began hyperventilating. Why did she listen to Derek? "Wait until Christmas break to tell them!" Yeah, right. She'd better start recording their conversations just to make him realize she's not always to blame for this crap.