Note: Thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate it! And I'm glad you like it so far. It's getting hard to continue without revealing who the narrator is, so you'll find out who it is in this chapter, although I'm sure you have an idea. After this chapter the rating may change to M just to be safe, so you might want to look for it there if you want to keep reading. But anyway, I hope you like it, and thanks for the reviews.River
I stayed in this house with Mr. and Mrs. Mayer for almost six months, and I never spoke one word. It's not that I had nothing to say, it's that I couldn't find the words to say it. And I didn't want to upset them, because I wasn't sure how they'd react.
In the months I lived there they never hit me, never locked me out of the house, never even raised their voices at me. I saw James occasionally. He'd come over and ask me questions, never really expecting an answer, then he'd ask the Mayers questions too. How was I behaving? Did I have any new injuries? Did I speak to them?
On my seventh birthday I was scared out of my mind. Birthdays were never a good thing around my father, and I dreaded having to live through another one. I woke up that morning and quietly made my way downstairs. They Mayers were sitting at the kitchen table, breakfast sitting on plates in front of them. I took my place across from Mrs. Mayer, my eyes not leaving the floor. There was a strange silence surrounding us, and I felt their eyes on me.
"Happy birthday, Jack," Mrs. Mayer said, her voice filled with false cheer. I shuddered, remembering how anytime someone said those words it was followed by a painful punishment, my punishment for being born.
"Jack?" Mr. Mayer said, concern in his voice. I flicked my eyes up to look at him, but they quickly returned to the floor. "Are you okay?" I silently nodded my head 'yes', trying to hold back the tears that were trying to push out of my eyes.
"We need to talk about something," Mrs. Mayer said softly. No, here it comes!
"Please don't hurt me," I said, barley above a whisper. The Mayers exchanged glances, shocked at these first words I'd spoken in six months. Mrs. Mayer reached her hand across the table, and I flinched, quickly pulling my knees up to my chest and burying my face in them.
"Jack, of course we're not going to hurt you," she spoke softly, and I glanced up, noticing tears in her eyes.
"James is coming over this afternoon," Mr. Mayer said. "He's going to take you to a different home. I'm sorry it didn't work out here for you." With that, they stood up and walked away. I jumped as soon as they left and ran to my room, happy to be alone once again.
I sat on my bed later that day, thinking about how screwed up my life was, and I was barley seven. Why did it happen to me? Why was I born into that family? I knew I deserved it, but I didn't understand. And why did my mom have to die? Why did I have to kill her? No, I didn't pull the trigger, but maybe if I hadn't let my father have me that night she'd still be alive. God, why didn't I fight! I could have saved her but no, I was too afraid to stop him. And now here I was in a warm house with people who didn't hurt me, and I was being sent away.
I was brought out of my thoughts as James came through the wooden door, motioning for me to come. I stood up and grabbed my backpack, which contained my clothes, and silently followed him. He spoke to the Mayers briefly on the way out, thanking them for taking care of me. They said goodbye to me, but I backed away as Mrs. Mayer tried to hug me. She looked hurt and I felt bad, but didn't she understand that I didn't want to be touched? Ever again.
"I've found a place for you, but it's only temporary until I can find a more permanent place," James said as we pulled out of the driveway in his car. We drove for a while to the outskirts of Detroit and pulled up to a small house. Two people immediately came out of the house to greet us. We got out of the car and I stood behind James as the two, a man and woman, rushed towards me.
James held his hand out to stop them. "Jack's been through a lot, so you'll need to be patient with him," he said calmly, and I was grateful for his protection. After a brief discussion and silence from me, James left, leaving me scared and alone with this new family.
Their names were Brad and Chelsea, they told me to call them by their first names. They had two kids of their own, Ruby and Kyle, and Jessi was a foster kid like me, but she was on the verge of being adopted by Brad and Chelsea. They gave me a quick tour of the house, then we all sat down to eat dinner. Chelsea pilled some food onto my plate and I starred at it as everyone else began eating.
"Everything okay, Jack?" Chelsea asked, her voice was kind and sounded concerned. I silently nodded my head and picked up my fork.
"Hey, she asked you a question," Brad said roughly, causing me to jump. "Answer her."
"It's okay, honey. He did," Chelsea stepped in.
"I want him to answer you with words. As long as he's here I expect him to show some respect," Brad snapped back. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible as I began to shake, fear running up and down my spine.
"Brad," Chelsea said calmly, "He's scared. I'll take care of it." She stood up. "Come with me, Jack." I got up, not wanting to make anyone angry, and followed her to a room on the other side of the house. "You'll be sharing a room with Kyle. And don't worry about Brad, okay? He's just not used to have so many kids at the same time." I sat down on the bed as she walked towards the door. "Night Jack," she said, walking out of the room.
The next few days went by slowly and I felt like I was surrounded by a monster that was about to attack any time. Little did I know how right I was. I was sitting in the living room watching TV with Ruby one day when Brad came storming in.
"What the hell is this, Jack?" he yelled, holding up the pack of cigarettes I'd stolen from him a few nights ago. Shit! He walked over to me and grabbed me by the arm. I went limp immediately; things hurt less when you don't struggle. I allowed him to pull me up off the couch and shove me against the wall.
"Answer me! You think you can just come in here and steal my things?" He lifted his hand and smacked me in the mouth. "Answer me!" he screamed again. When I remained silent, he attacked again, hitting and punching me over and over. He let go of my arm and I fell to the ground as he continued to hit me. Blood began dripping from my nose, but I still didn't make a sound. "Speak!" he shrieked, loud enough to wake the dead. I slowly lifted me head and looked him dead in the eyes.
"Fuck you," I whispered. Brad took a step back, obviously shocked, and I seized the opportunity. I jumped to me feet and ran, bursting through the front door and dashing down the street. I heard Brad yelling from behind me, but my fear and adrenaline kicked in and I ran for blocks, not once looking back.