Chapter 2.
After Liam left her room, Callie lay in silence. Covered in cold sweat, she shook in fear. As soon as she was sure her foster brother was really gone, she crept out of bed. Her legs felt like jelly. She locked her bedroom door, then went back to her bed and wrapped herself in her comforter. She lay awake until the sun started to rise.
When the first rays of morning sun came through her window, she stood up. She looked down at her bed. A pinkish bloodstain marred her bed sheet, a sign of her lost innocence. She stared at the stain as if it had slapped her in the face, then she put on her bathrobe, unlocked the door, and sneaked into the hall bathroom to shower away Liam's touch. While showering, she became aware of how much she hurt. She had a terrible ache, that she couldn't place anywhere in particular. Maybe it was her soul that hurt so bad? How could this happen to her? Hadn't she been through enough? She silently cried, letting the hot water wash away her tears.
After she got out of the shower, she hurried back to her room, praying she hadn't woke up her foster parents, who were sleeping upstairs. If only they knew who their precious son really was. She locked her door tight, then got into bed, hoping sleep would overcome her.
Later that morning, the Olmstead family was seated around the table, about to eat breakfast. Jude had just broken a juice glass, and Mr. Olmstead smacked him, so he sat in his chair, crying.
"Where the Hell is Callie? Mr. Olmstead growled.
"Probably still sleeping," Liam offered. "Should I go wake her up?"
"No," said Mrs. Olmstead. "You stay and eat your breakfast. I'll get her." She went to Callie's room and tried to open the door, but it was locked.
"Callie?" She called. "Get up and come to breakfast." There was no answer. "Unlock this door, Callie," she called louder. There was still no response, so she walked back down the hall to get her husband.
"She isn't answering me," she told him. "Her door is locked, too."
"I'll handle this," Mr. Olmstead said. He'd woken up in a terrible mood, and it just got worse. He stalked down the hall and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He pounded it, and yelled; "We don't lock doors in this family, Callie. You get yourself over here and unlock it now. I'm counting to five."
He began to slowly count, and when he got to four, he heard Callie's bed creak, and her bare feet move across the floor. Finally, he heard the lock click open.
Callie felt like hell as she followed her foster father to the kitchen.
"You sleep okay, Callie?" Liam asked.
Callie shot him a poisonous glare. "What do you care?" She asked, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
Cringing with pain, but trying her best to hide it, she sat down in the chair next to Jude. "You alright, Judie?" She asked. Jude pouted in his seat, but then Callie tousled his hair, and he seemed to let go of whatever had been bothering him. If only Callie could forget her troubles that easily.
To Be Continued