Original publication date September 8, 2015
A/N: I want to post all the chapters leading up to Brielle’s birthday before September 14th so that I can post the chapter with her birthday on her actual birthday. Please forgive the quickly-releasing chapters over the next week. I’ll wait for a while after the 14th before I post again to give everyone a chance to catch up later.
Brielle
Mr. and Mrs. Goth have become my legal guardians. I’ve been living with them for a week.
I sit here and think about how that happened:
I’d set up another campsite, this one much, much deeper into the woods. I did just fine hiding for three days, living off berries that I’d harvest and lay out to dry in the sun and fish I caught myself. I didn’t have the luxury of having a tent this time. I’d built a lean-to out of tree limbs, sticks, and leaves. Then, a search party found me and took me, kicking and screaming, straight to the police station. I got examined from head to toe, got to go wash myself up, and got taken to family services. They managed to officially take custody of me away from my parents. They tried to take Logan from my mom, but they couldn’t get enough on her to claim neglect or abuse. After a visit with a psychiatrist, they decided that Mom wasn’t the problem. With Dad in jail, at least for now, she got put on a probation thing. My sister wasn’t granted legal custody of me either, and I’m glad. I can’t trust her anymore to keep me safe. When I last saw her, she looked awful, horribly guilty for bringing Fred into ‘our’ home. Fred’s in jail. He can rot there are far as I’m concerned.
Graham was there -in the background- a lot of the time. I could never decide whether or not I wanted to run up to him and, I don’t know, something, maybe just rest my head on his chest and have him tell me everything would be okay. When he actually did get a moment with me, I remember the look of horror on his face as he held mine in his hands. He reflected back to me all my fear and devastation, and I could do nothing but cry before being shuffled off to somewhere else. After a few days, I stopped seeing him, having had no explanation why he disappeared. Where was I to go? The Goths offered to be my guardians, and with knowing the right people in the right places, they managed it. I notice they didn’t outright adopt me.
Alex’s mom asked me to call her Bella and call her husband Mortimer. I’m on a first-name basis with Alex’s parents?
I look over at her, trusting no one. She and Alex sit and talk about things like novels they’ve both read. Mr. Goth is at work. I stay quiet in my ‘new’ dress. It used to belong to Cassandra before she grew out of it. Bella plans on taking me shopping tomorrow. Shopping with Mrs. Goth…yeah. That’ll be an experience.
“What do you think, Brielle?” Alex asks happily.
“Sorry. What?” I’d not been listening to their conversation.
“About the ending,” Alex explains. Then, seeing my expression, he says, “Animal Farm.”
“Oh,” I say flatly. I remember getting a copy of it from my teacher and taking it to Nyla’s to read. I was happy we were finally off a book of poems. I don’t have my copy anymore. They’ll charge me for it. I look around. The Goths can afford it. “I didn’t finish it. I think my copy is at my sister’s.”
“You can borrow my copy,” he offers with a smile.
Alex is being weird, weirder than normal. He’s too…happy. I don’t like how I think that’s weird, but it’s not like him. One time when we were kids, I took some crayons and drew a picture of him. He had a cloud over his head. I don’t think it’s because he’s happy about what happened to me. I can’t figure out why.
“Oh my. I’m sorry if we gave it away!” Bella says and leans forward, giving Alex a wide-eyed look.
“It’s no big deal. I was thinking about stuff anyway,” I tell her. The room gets awkwardly quiet. I know what they’re thinking. They know I’ve been thinking about the past few weeks. How can I not? This is too much. “I think I’m going to go take a nap,” I tell them, and I head upstairs without waiting for their approval. The memories are attacking me again, and I don’t want anyone to see me as I remember Fred shoving my face in the mattress, holding me down with his body and… and I won’t let The Maker type the rest. I didn’t even know what he did to me was possible.
Before going to sleep, I let myself cry some. Yesterday and today, I’ve tried to work on keeping myself from doing it constantly. I’ve spent most of the week in this room crying. All it does is leave me exhausted and even more miserable than when I started.
Tomorrow, I’m going back to school…again. I’m supposed to be a senior, but they’re making me repeat a grade. It’s stupid. I’m going to study up and take the test and tell high school to kiss off.
I miss Graham. How can I miss him when at the same time I don’t want anything to do with anybody? I’m so confused! I threw my phone away somewhere in the woods, and after just hitting his name in my contacts list or recent calls so many times, I’ve forgotten his phone number. I think I keep switching two or three numbers. Mr. Goth got me a new phone, and I wish I’d backed up my contacts list.
“But I will,” he said, I remind myself, remembering when he said he’d wait for me to turn eighteen. He wouldn’t touch me that night. I recall how badly I’d wanted to wrap my arms around him. Now, I don’t want anyone to touch me. I get nauseated when they do.
What will I do when I see Grayson again?
I haven’t seen or heard from Grayson since before I ran away. I think he’s been scared off. He said nothing I could tell him would make him hate me. Well, maybe I’ve gone too far, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. What bothers me most is that I don’t care as much as I should, and that just confuses me again.
I need to officially break up with him, set him free. I cry from thinking about how that might hurt him. Maybe he sees it coming. I’ve not been the greatest girlfriend ever since hearing Graham was waiting for me.
Tonight, we all sit and have grilled cheese for dinner since the game gave the Goths low, if any, cooking skill. This is the first time I’ve decided to eat dinner with everyone else.
“I’m really glad you’re living here now,” Alex tells me quietly while his parents discuss politics. “I know the circumstances aren’t perfect, but you’re safer here.” He rests his hand on the table, and I think it resembles a large, white spider.
I merely look at him, dead inside. He finally starts fidgeting before I decide to speak. “Safe. Hm. I thought that once before. Turns out I was wrong then.”
“I just wanted to let you know that you are safe with us. We won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” The large, white spider moves across the table and squeezes my hand.
I quickly jerk my hand back. “Please don’t touch me,” I tell him quietly, wanting to scream it.
He pulls his hand back towards him and picks up his sandwich. “Sorry,” he whispers, his feelings hurt.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Alex didn’t mean anything by that. He was just trying to show emotional support. I hear him chewing and wonder if he’s staring at me. When I open my eyes, I see him looking at his plate.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, remaining quiet. “I just-“
“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known better,” he quickly tells me, interrupting. He clears his throat. “Mom wants to know whether or not you want to redecorate your room.
“I… We just want to make you feel comfortable, make you feel at home,” he continues, stressing the word home.
My eyes watch him, and he doesn’t look back at me. “Her room is just fine. I don’t need anything.”
“It’s not her room anymore. It’s yours,” he reminds me, glancing up at me for a second.
Not wanting to argue the point, I tell him, “I like it the way it is.” Honestly, I don’t care what the room looks like. I don’t really see it. It’s a room that has a dresser and a bed, and the door locks.
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