We both glomped James, almost knocking him to the ground.

"What the heck are you doing here!" I asked after I had gotten my wits about me enough to pull myself off him.

"I would expect you to be happy to see me." James replied, sounding a little hurt.

I looked him over, it had been a few years now, James was 14 years old. He had grown up a lot. He looked more like a man now than when he had left. "I—I am, but how are you here right now? Does dad know where you are?"

"All right, you two, hold off, let's go inside. We'll talk more then." Jessee interrupted.

Jessee pulled James into the house, calling for our mother while I returned Rapidash to her pokeball. When I came into the living room shortly before my mother did, who stared at James in disbelief, her dull eyes, her pale skin, her sunken cheeks…I had forgotten how sickly she had become.

James didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. He moved into her and wrapped his arms around her frail frame, hugging her tightly. He was as tall as she was now. She didn't say anything, hardly moved. Finally she pulled away a little. "James…w-what are you doing here…?" her voice was faint, hardly over a whisper.

"Mom…I'm home." James replied, still smiling, though her apathy toward his appearance was clear to have hurt him. He then went on to explain how he hated his life, how miserable it was living with our father and stepmother, how lonely and boring it all was, and how he had been planning this escape since the first day. We all listened silently, absorbing every word of his story. Finally James finished. He stared at us, but no one said a word. Finally my mother broke the silence. "You need to go back. I'm calling your father." She turned toward the kitchen, still not displaying a single emotion.

James grabbed her arm. "Mom, no! Didn't you hear what I said? I hate it there! I can't stand it! Please! I want to stay here with you!"

My mother pulled her arm away fiercely. "It doesn't matter what you want. It doesn't even matter what I want. Your father now has sole custody over you. And since you're a minor, you cannot be anywhere but under his care." She continued into the kitchen. James was on the verge of tears. He clenched his jaw and I could see his fists shaking at his sides. I dropped my gaze to the floor and bit my lip, in danger of crying myself. In my heart, I'd known it would come to this, but I'd hoped maybe there was a legal loophole I didn't know about. No. I had been right. James could never come back to us. I heard my mother talking to my father in the other room, then a click as she came back in.

"Your father is coming right now to pick you up. He is very upset, as am I. Don't go trying this again." Without any other word, she turned and went back up to her room.

James really was crying now. Tears streamed down his cheeks even though he was trying his best to remain manly. "I—I thought she would still love me…"

I steeled myself and moved in to wrap my arms around him. "She does….ever since you left she's never been the same. Something broke inside of her…you can't blame her for this…"

"But I DO!" James yelled back at me. "Do you know how much I had to go through to even get here in the first place?! I walked for miles to escape that place just to be told I would have to go right back not even an hour later! I can't take it there any more! I can't take it!"

"Really, James, how bad could it—"

"They are trying to force me to get married to my stepmom's niece!"

Both Jessee and I winced.

"Yes. Ever since the first day this has been going on. I have to wear all these tight itchy clothes, sit through hours of private tutoring sessions, and any free time I get, I'm forced to spend with that…psychopath!"

"Ok, James, relax, we get it." Jessee replied. "But there's really nothing we can do about it right now. At least not until we have a little more time to maybe come up with a plan."

"You don't have too much more time…" James retorted. "They plan on hitching me up with that witch on my 18th birthday. Then, I'll be screwed for sure!"

Just then we heard the screeching of brakes as a long limousine pulled up the dirt road in front of our house. Our dad stepped out of the back, climbed the steps and knocked on the front door calling out in a deep and frightening voice. "James Ivory, come out here this instant!"

James panicked. I grabbed hold of him to keep him from falling. "James, it's going to be ok. I promise you. We'll think of something. We'll get you out of there."

James took a hard breath an nodded, then pulled himself stiffly toward the front door casting a last frightened look back at us before opening the door and disappearing from our lives again.