Chapter 4:

Jane's staring at me. She's looking right at me like daggers. I can almost hear her saying, Come on, Jare. You said you'd take this to the grave. Don't make and ass of yourself. I know that I should keep the secret, but Detective Banks needs to know this. I say, ignoring Jane, "Kyle is dangerous. You don't mess with Kyle. At least not the Kyle I know."

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I grew up in foster homes. So did Jane. We met at the home, and we always saw each other in between new houses, new "homes." My mother was a drug addict, and my father traveled so much that if I didn't see him in six months, I didn't really notice. I mean, I did, but it wasn't unusual. Jane was weird for a foster kid. She expected that her father would get over his drinking and would show up and they'd live happily ever after. That hasn't happened, at least not yet. She also expected a lot out of every set of foster parents, and she was usually pretty sad when it didn't work out. That all stopped the minute we were sent to the Carstens'.

They were this small family- a dad, a mom, and their only child. Once mommy had the kid, she had to be sewed up for some reason, so they took in foster kids. One year when I was fifteen and Jane fourteen, this couple in their thirties came to the home, asking to foster two kids, about their son's age- a guy and a girl. Guess who fit that exact description? Yep, it was Jane and me. Their home was actually pretty cozy, and when we first got there, we never wanted to leave. It seemed like the perfect foster home. Jane was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, I don't think she would have been able to survive getting kicked out without being plopped in the wacky shack.

So Jane and I made a pact. We'd try our hardest ever to stay here. They were good to us, and the contract worked out pretty well, until probably the year Jane turned fifteen. That's when it all started, or at least when she says it started. I think it was probably going on longer, but I can't be sure. She can be so stubborn sometimes.

Mr. Carstens had always wanted a little girl. You could tell he really loved Jane. He'd hug her and tell her what a pretty girl she was. She'd just nod, wide eyed and silent until he'd turn away and lose interest. The night of her birthday, Jane says that he came into her bedroom. He kissed her goodnight, and then she says things got out of hand. She says he didn't do anything that night, except touch her, but I don't think so. She says she lost her virginity two weeks later- to Mr. Carstens.

I demanded that she tell the police, that we escape, but she refused. She said that he loved her. I think she was sort of trying to re-do her childhood- the one when she was happy and camping with her father. Jane sort of went down hill after that. She decided that since she'd already lost it, what could she lose with a bunch of other guys? She was the undercover school slut. She'd catch them late at night at drunken parties, and she'd never tell them her name. They were always too wasted to identify her. She was the perfect student, and she seemed to be the perfect child, at least to the untrained eye.

I didn't even know all this until the winter before her sixteenth birthday. We had a book report due the next day, and I had forgotten to read the book. So it was really late when I finished it- like 2 or 3 A.M. I figured I could just slide in and out of her room without waking her up, and the book would be safe and sound on the bookshelf when she'd wake up the next morning.

I remember what happened after that all too easily. To this day it still gives me nightmares- the sight of his spongy body on top of hers, jerking and growling. She was crying silently. Her tears shined in the moonlight. She was shaking her head back and forth, trying to deny what was happening to her. I closed the door and ran back to my room in shocked silence. The next morning when I came to return the book, there was still dried blood on the sheets. I confronted her about it, and she broke down, crying about how I couldn't tell anyone.

And I didn't. I don't know why, but I still regret it to this day. Maybe I hoped that if I ignored it, it'd go away. Maybe I hoped it was just a one time thing. Maybe I hoped it was some perverted nightmare. I don't know.

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I told this aloud, only in a more condensed version. "You know how Jane was a foster kid? Yeah, her foster dad raped her. Kyle Carstens- that's his name. The bastard stole every piece of innocence she ever had. She's only told me, and now I'm telling you. Fortunately, he was locked up for some insurance scandal after our graduation, so we've never heard from him again. He might be back. This could possibly be him."

Jane was huddling in her chair, thick black hair concealing her face. I knew that when she'd emerge, her eyes would be pink with dry tears. This proved true when she lifted her head and glared at me. One word passed between her full lips:

"Asshole."

Then she collapsed, head rolled back against the chair and arms limp.