Chapter 2
"Okay, take a seat here Emma. Do you want some hot cocoa? Something to eat?" He asks. I look at him but don't respond. I haven't said a word again since I told him my name. It wasn't a good idea, what was I thinking? Now he can find out that I'm a two-time runaway… Oh god he could send me back… I can't go back. Not to them. I pick at my sleeves until he walks away. I watch him walk to the desk. He briefly talks to the other cop but I can't hear. I turn my attention to the door, where a two cops are dragging in a woman. She looks like shit, way too skinny, teeth decayed as she screams, hair dry and broken. She's wearing an oversized rain jacket and jeans. I've seen this before… too many times, too many foster parents. I watch the clock until he comes back. It feels like forever, but in reality, it's only 4 minutes. I watch him walk to me until he's standing right in front of me. He smiles at me gently but I know he's found out the reason I ran away the first time. Everyone gets that look, the pity look. I hate it. I don't want to be pitted. I am not that little girl anymore. I can defend myself now, fight back… and I know whose who know. I know not to trust any foster parents or the other kids. "Emma, come with me."
I follow him into the precinct, filled with cops, some on the phone, eating or talking to others. It's so familiar to me, too familiar. We walk past them all, until he stops in front of a woman and shakes her hand. "Hi, Eric Waller."
"Detective Donaldson." She responds before turning to me. "Emma, right? I'm Kristy-" She pauses showing me her badge. "-I would like to ask you some questions." Her voice turns softer when she speaks to me and she gives me a smile, it's not a smile I've seen often before but I know it when I see it… It's a mother's smile. "Lets go in here. Eric will be right outside" She leads me to a colorful room with a lot of toys, a couch and a small table with three chairs. I take the seat furthest away from her, holding my bag tightly. "So Emma, lets start with some basics. What's your last name?" I don't respond to her. "Okay, how about your date of birth? Emma, whatever, or whoever, you're running from, we're here to protect you but only if you let us."
I feel the warm tears build at the back of my eyes. I bite my bottom lip, praying they don't fall. I can't cry… I don't cry… But they fall. I quickly use my sleeve to wipe my eyes, even though I'm vaguely aware she's moved the tissues closer to me. "October 22nd… 1983."
"So you've just turned 15?" I nod, not looking at her. "Are you from New York City?" I shake my head, no. "Did you come here alone? Or did you to come with someone?"
"Alone." My voice is a horse whisper.
I hear her mumble an okay as she writes down something… Probably more than what I'm saying or it wouldn't take this long. "How long have you been here?" I shrug, a month? Maybe a little longer. "Has someone helped you? Maybe paid for you to stay in a hotel? Or for your food?" I feel my body tense up, even though I don't want it to. I stand up quickly, and walk to the window. I look down to the street. It's raining again. The light tapping of the raindrops in the glass calms me momentarily until I hear her ask something else. "I want to go!" I snap.
I hear her stand up and it makes me clutch my bag harder into my chest. "Okay. Let's take a break. I'll be back in a moment."
I don't respond, I just look out the window, I look at the busy city. I hear her leave. She must be talking to Eric. I hate talking about things because no one ever wants to know some of the good stuff… It's happened, just very rarely and it doesn't last but still… My days with Lily and Ingrid… those were happy times… kinda. I hear the door open again and I briefly glance over to see Eric and the detective coming in. "Emma-" He begins. "For now, I'm going to take you to a foster home. In the morning, you'll have to come back here and talk to Detective Donaldson again, okay?" I don't answer but I throw my backpack on my shoulder ready to go. Before we leave, they try to get more details out of me, but all they get is my last name. Eric and I get into a cop car and soon we're off. Back into the traffic. I sigh to myself. I hate this part. The unknowing of where I'm gonna end up, not even knowing where the bathroom is or what I need to be on the lookout for… The other kids? The adults? Or both?
Killian's POV
"Boy! Get out here!" I flinch when I hear him screaming for me. I quickly run above deck, wearing my tattered clothes. As I run up the stairs, I begin to smell the ocean air and I can see the stars twinkle in the night sky – I can't help but smile. That is until I see him and I can tell he's been drinking. I stop in front of him, standing up straight with my chin up but not looking him in the eye. "Ah! There you are!" He grabs me by my neck, dragging me forward. "Look at the sky my boy! You see there? North Star, you find her, you can go anywhere!" I look anywhere but the North Star, knowing the other stars in the sky are just as important. He continues rambling on about sextants and latitudes but I don't care. "Go get my Brandy." He demands, pushing me to the ground. His men just laugh as I grit my teeth. I can't fight back. I can't stop him... or any of them and they all know it, so they laugh. I pass it to him and wait for him to allow me to return below deck, accepting all the vile words he says about Liam and myself. All I do is grit my teeth, not fighting back. Liam says not to fight back, to wait until he can buy our way out. As I return, all the other boys look at me anxiously, waiting for me to tell them what we're facing tonight. "He's drinking." My voice is quiet but I see their reactions. In particular, the new boy, Elijah. He's small, only been here for a week but quickly become a favorite. I look away from him and curl up into my cot, closing my eyes tightly. One day, we'll be free. Free...
"Killian? Can you hear me?" I open my eyes and see concern in his eyes, he's sat upright and almost off his chair. "Are you alright? You didn't speak for almost 5 minutes." I nod in response. "You were telling me about Whitney? Did he let you go back to your room?" I stand up, walking to the window. "Aye." My voice is curt, not that he deserves it. "Killian, why don't we call it for today. I'll see you on Friday?" I don't respond. I just walk out, tense with my jaw clenched. I hate… therapy days, that's what they call them. I roll my eyes, people who call themselves doctors and want to hear everything bad that has happened to you… this world is bizarre.
