by Shade, S. M.
The sound of a few voices in the living room is out of the ordinary. We rarely have company. My feet hit the floor at the same time there’s a tap on my door. Helena enters with tears in her eyes, her face red and angry.
Regret and sorrow clog her voice. “Darcy, CPS is here.”
“What?” Fear nails me in place. ‘You’re sending me away?”
“No!” She rushes over and pulls me into a hug. “Never, do you hear me? I’d adopt you if I weren’t too old for them to consider it. I’m going to do everything I can to have you placed back with me.”
Stepping back, I look over her shoulder to see two women standing in the doorway. My file lists me as a problem child. Of course they sent back up. “Why?” I ask, my voice flat and hoarse.
“Someone reported me. All medical procedures have to be approved by a judge. I didn’t do that.”
Anger threatens to send me through the wall. “You’ve got to be kidding me! It was my choice! A judge doesn’t get to decide if I have a baby or not.” I glare at the women in the doorway. “The government doesn’t fucking own me or my life. I didn’t want a baby. I chose to have an abortion. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry. No judge in our county would’ve allowed it so I signed the papers as your mother,” Helena confesses.
The enormity of it hits me. Not only am I losing her, she won’t be able to foster again. “You’ve been the best mother.” We both cry while I hug her.
“They won’t allow any contact.”
“I age out in three years. The bastards can’t stop me then.”
The expressions on the faces of the social workers watching us never change from a fake smile and few of their words register. I could scream and fight, but it’d only end the same. Within an hour, I’m a town away, with nothing but a suitcase of my stuff, given to me by Helena, being delivered to a new home.
The social workers give up trying to convince me how lucky I am that I’m being moved to an upper class family. Money doesn’t mean anything. It never has. My eyes rake over the lavish house as if it’s a dumpy trailer on the westside.
My new foster parents, The Millers, say all the right things when we’re introduced but there’s something wrong about them. My unease and sense of foreboding grows while they show me around the house with the social workers in tow. It won’t do any good to try to talk to them about it. My feelings and what I want don’t matter. I’m being placed here regardless. I’m left in my new bedroom while they walk the social workers out to their car.
It only takes a day after I’m left there with the Millers to find out my instincts are right. The perfect, successful couple with a beautiful house is nothing but a façade.
Mrs. Miller, who was all smiles for the social workers, leaves the next day for a two week spa vacation without a word to me. The Millers don’t have any other children, and my guard is instantly up at being left alone with Mr. Miller. The fact that he’s a judge only makes it worse. His type know they can do whatever they want.
The bedroom they give me to stay in is on the first floor. There’s no lock on the door, and the first night, I plan an escape route in case I need it, leaving my window unlocked. My backpack is packed with a few things I’ll need if I have to run. That’s the last resort.
A few hours after Mrs. Miller leaves, I creep down the hall. Nothing has been stated as being off limits to me, but there’s a very recognizable feeling when you’re living in a place where you aren’t wanted. I’m alert for whatever trouble this guy might throw my way for daring to raid the fridge for a sandwich.
Fortunately, the kitchen’s empty. Bright and shiny, you’d think a meal has never been cooked here. There’s turkey in the fridge, and I quickly make a sandwich, then grab a bottle of water. When I turn around, Mr. Miller stands there, watching me.
We stare at each other. I’m not going to be the first to speak. Finally, he breaks the silence. “After you eat, I need you to shower and look presentable. I have company coming. I want to introduce you.”
It’s terrifying to be left with new people and have no idea what they’re capable of or what their intentions are. “Okay,” I mumble, and he nods, satisfied. On my way back to my room, I try to reason with myself. He probably wants to show me to his friends or associates. The whole parade the foster child I’ve taken in out of the goodness of my heart so everyone can see what a great person I am thing isn’t out of the ordinary.
The shower request which might sound strange makes a certain amount of sense. The last few days I’ve been recovering and haven’t had much use for hygiene. My hair hangs lank and oily. I wouldn’t want to meet people like this anyway. No matter how angry I am, or how much I miss Helena, I’m aware that I have to try to make the best of it here. It could be my home for a long time whether I like it or not.
The shower is lavish with multiple sprayers that hit my whole body at once. As I scrub my hair and skin, all I can think about is Helena and what she’s doing right now. We’d usually be finishing dinner and watching Jeopardy together. We keep a weekly score to see who can answer the most questions. The thought of her watching it alone is hard to take.
Biting back the loneliness, I dress in a pair of jeans and a sweater. There’s a blow dryer under the sink, and I quickly dry my hair and put it in a French braid where it won’t look so wild. I’m due for a haircut. Helena taught me to French braid. Another gift she left for me. The last thing I do is tuck the small knife I always carry into my pocket. Long ago, I learned the power of a weapon. I won’t be caught without one again.
Once I’m “presentable” I’m not sure what to do with myself. The urge to write pulls at me, but there isn’t enough time. Once I start, I won’t want to stop. It’ll have to wait until later. Hopefully, Mr. Miller will introduce me then let me go back to my room. Experience has shown me they don’t want to get to know me or have me around, just give their friends a look at their new charity project.
From my window, I watch a car pull in, but it parks too close to the house for me to see who gets out of it. Only a few minutes later, my door opens. “Darcy, come with me. My guest is waiting.”
Dutifully, I follow him, hoping to answer a few inane questions about my favorite school subjects or something similar. If he’s told his friends about my past, the questions will be infuriating but predictable. It’s amazing how many people want to hear details of the gory slaughter of my family.
He leads me to his office at the end of a long hall. My heart bounds into my chest when we walk in to see just one man waiting. I expected a couple or even a family. “Darcy, this is Trevor. “
The fat, middle aged man’s eyes sweep over me, putting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Beautiful,” he comments.
Alarms blare in my head, and I retreat toward the door. Mr. Miller’s hands clamp onto my shoulders. It’s the first time he’s touched me and it makes my skin crawl almost as much as his words. “I want you to think about the life you can have here. New clothes, a car when you turn sixteen, a fully paid college education. You won’t be the poor kid at school anymore. You can be a success. Remember that, and do whatever my friend asks you to do.”
With that, he shoves me forward, and Trevor grabs my arm. Mr. Miller pauses in the doorway. “You have an hour. Don’t leave any marks.” With that, he exits and the lock clicks behind him.
Shit. I’m in trouble. Deep trouble. It happened so fast. After two years of safety with Helena, I got soft and let my guard down. I forgot what lives in some people.
I jerk my arm out of his grasp, and he laughs. “Now, don’t be that way. You heard what your new daddy said. Besides, I won’t hurt you. You’ll like it. My girls always get off too.”
“Get the fuck away from me!”
My words do nothing. He may be out of shape, but he’s bigger, and I have no chance if he gets a hold of me. He sneers. “Or what. Are you going to tell?”
His words remind me how alone I am. Even if I could get to a phone, cops
won’t believe me. The caseworker sure as hell won’t. There’s no help for people like me. We have to take care of ourselves.
He lunges forward and grabs me, his flabby arm wrapping around my waist from behind. There’s no mistaking what’s poking against my ass. No. This can’t happen.
I won’t let it.
He’s too busy rubbing himself against me to notice my hand slide into my pocket. The knife is a comforting weight in my palm. He shoves me forward against a desk, unfastening his pants. It gives me an opportunity to open the knife, and when he reaches around to unbutton my jeans, I drive it as hard as I can into the back of his hand.
He squeals like the pig he is and lets go of me. There isn’t a second to waste. Turning to face him, I thrust the knife forward into his gut. It slides in like I’m piercing butter, and the sensation makes me shiver. Blood pours over my hand, and I have to swallow back the urge to puke.
No panicking, Darcy. You’ve done it now. Think. Save yourself.
Wide, shocked eyes look into mine. “You whore.” He stumbles backward onto the small sofa and yells for Mr. Miller.
Time to get the fuck out of here. The window opens easily, and I have no trouble climbing out of it. I stabbed a man. He could die, and I could go to prison. I have to get out of here, but I’m not going without my bag. If I’m going to be on the streets, I’ll need clothes and the little money I’ve managed to save.
The manicured lawn is damp under my feet. I’m careful not to slip while I dart down to the window of what was my room for one night only. The raised voices of the two of them echo down the hall as I clamber inside. Snatching my bag, I throw it onto my shoulder, climb back out, and run like hell. I’ll stand out like a flashing light in this neighborhood, so I veer off into a commercial area filled with high end stores and boutiques. It’s not like I fit in here either, especially running through at night, but luckily no one sees me. When the houses grow smaller, and the yards more unkempt, I slow down and look for a place to hide.
I’ve been incredibly lucky that no one has noticed me. The blood drying on my hand stinks. When I pass a dark, rundown house with no car in the driveway, I cut through the yard to find the water faucet attached to the back. It sends out a rush of icy water when I turn it on. At least the blood didn’t get all over me. It didn’t spray everywhere the way it does in movies. Just sort of welled out of the wound and over my hand. Maybe the guy will survive. Not that I care for his life, but fifteen is a little young for a murder charge.
It isn’t until I rinse the blood away that pain sneaks through the adrenaline and the cuts on my hand become visible. One of my clean socks is going to have to be sacrificed. Kneeling down, I tie it around my hand, then drink my fill from the faucet. I’m officially a runway. Likely one wanted for assault and god knows what else after they report what I did. Not only do I have to hide, I have to find a way to survive. To eat and drink. For now, finding somewhere to sleep is my first task.
Shifting my pack on my back, I lean my head back and look at the stars.
Okay, I can do this.
Chapter Nine
“Open the door, woman!” Thea yells when I peek out to see who’s knocking. What the hell is she doing here?
The second we’re face to face, she grabs me in a hug. “Hey,” I exclaim, hugging her back. “Did you tell me you were coming?” I’ve been so preoccupied with a certain stalker lately that I easily could’ve forgotten.
“I would have, but you never pick up your phone. You told me to choose a weekend for us to visit so here we are.”
Us?
Two men come up behind her, carrying their bags. Thea beams at me and gestures to one of them. “This is Paul.”
Right. Paul the drummer. The guy she’s been seeing.
“And this is his friend, Dax.”
This is a set up. A hook Darcy up so she can be happy like me ambush. I’m going to kill her. It’s a good thing Reeve isn’t here. He hasn’t shown up since our day in the tunnel. It’s probably not healthy that I already miss him, but I’m not worried. This time I know he’ll come back. In the meantime, I don’t want to be rude to these guys even though they showed up unannounced. I’m well aware of Thea’s ability to influence and get her way.
“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in.”
The guys walk past me, and I let them get a bit ahead before hissing into Thea’s ear. “Cremation or burial, because I’m going to kill you.”
Her laughter rings out. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“So that’s not the guitarist friend you wanted to hook me up with?”
“Well, yes, but…” She pauses to grin at me. “He’s also the lead singer! And isn’t he cute!”
He is cute with light brown curls that reach his nape and dark brown eyes. He also looks about ten years younger than me. “He’s a fetus, but that’s not the point. I’m not interested.”
“Oh my god, he’s twenty-seven. It’s fine,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. “We’re all going to hang out and have fun. I’ve missed you!”
Her excitement is hard to resist, especially now that I’m feeling a little better. Maybe this will be fun, another thing I won’t know I need until afterward. “I missed you too.” The guys are waiting in the living room when we enter.
We chat for a few minutes, getting to know each other. Both of the guys seem nice enough, and I’m glad to see that Paul isn’t the bad boy type she usually goes for. The thought makes me bite back a smile. Yeah, I’m really one to judge.
“What?” Thea asks, noticing my expression.
“Nothing, I was just thinking we need to grab some groceries. And some alcohol, I’m guessing.”
“You guess right,” she says. “We came to get you to party with us.”
“Why don’t we go to Marion? We can grab all that stuff and have dinner.” And it’s a nice distance away where a certain man won’t show up and scare the shit out of you.
“Let’s do it,” she agrees, and we all pile into the SUV they drove down in. It must belong to Dax because he hops in the driver’s seat while Thea and Paul get in the back. Thea flashes me a satisfied grin when I open the passenger side door, then laughs at the subtle middle finger I manage to give her by scratching my cheek.
Thea and Paul are wrapped up in each other which leaves me talking to Dax. He follows my directions to the highway, then turns on some music. “So, Thea said you’re a writer.”
“I am, yeah.”
“That’s really cool. What do you write?”
“True crime and some horror.”
“I love horror. What have you written? Maybe I’ve read one of them.”
“Sorry.” I soften my reply with a smile. “I write under a pen name. I prefer to stay anonymous.”
“Ooh, mysterious. I like it.”
“You’re a musician?” I change the subject to him. “Thea mentioned that you’re a singer.”
“My main love is guitar, but I sing too.”
“Quit bragging, asshole,” Paul teases him from the backseat.
Dax shakes his head. “Don’t mind him. Do you know what you call a guy who hangs out with musicians?”
“What?” I ask.
“A drummer.”
Thea and I both crack up while Paul flicks Dax on the back of his head. “I’m the heartbeat of our band.”
“That’s why we need a pacemaker.”
It turns out not to be a bad drive at all. Dax is friendly and easy to talk to. We end up in a long discussion once we figure out we prefer the same kind of music. Once we reach Marion, Thea pulls herself away from Paul long enough to notice where we are.
“Let’s go to the mall. I want a pretzel.” She glances over at Paul. “Maybe they’ll have a lingerie store.”
Paul sits up straight. “Dax, we’re going to the mall. It’s important.”
Despite my initial surprise and concern about having them visit, I’m glad they came. This is fun. I haven’t been out with a group
like this in such a long time. We walk the mall, munching on pretzels. Dax and I browse through a bookstore while Thea and Paul shop for lingerie. He teases me by approaching with a horror book. “This is you, right? I figured it out.”
“You think I write under the name Alvin?” I giggle.
He frowns at the book. “Hmm…maybe not.”
We end up having dinner at a Mexican restaurant adjacent to the mall. As we’re leaving, Paul points to the theater across the street. “Want to catch a movie?”
“Nothing scary,” Thea insists.
“How are we friends?” I groan. “No romance.”
Finally, we settle on a silly comedy. The place is pretty empty for a Friday night. Maybe because it’s still a little early. I sit in an aisle seat with Dax beside me. Paul and Thea sit on his other side. This feels too much like a double date, but Dax doesn’t try to put his arm around me or make any other moves. With only thirty minutes or so left in the movie, I start to regret the large drink I had and head to the restroom.
My eyes try to adjust to the sudden attack of fluorescent lights while I relieve myself and wash my hands. The only other woman in the restroom leaves while I’m pulling a stiff brown paper towel from the holder. The sound of the door barely registers, but the hands that squeeze my shoulders sure do. They spin me around. Fierce eyes land on mine.
“Reeve.” My disbelief comes out as a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
My god, he followed me all this way? Around town was one thing but we’re nearly an hour away. “Some…friends showed up to visit unexpectedly.”
“Friends.”
It’s clear what he’s getting at. “Yes, friends. They’re staying until Sunday.”
He backs me up against the cold, white wall and runs his hand up my chest to wrap around my throat. He’s not using any pressure, but there’s warning in the action and reflected in his severe expression. “I should fuck you right here.” His mouth attacks mine with a kiss that makes my legs weak, and in the moment I know I’d let him.