Broken Identity

by Ashley Williams

  “I won’t.”

  Andrew bit the inside of his cheek. “You have to eat something.”

  “I have a lot more to worry about than filling my stomach right now.”

  “It’s your decision if you choose to keep it inside, Drake. I can’t make you want my help.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “How do you know? We haven’t had a friendly conversation ever since we got back yesterday.”

  “Gee, wonder why?” Drake said, not restraining any bit of his sarcasm.

  “Then why are you mad at me? Just talk to me about whatever it is that’s eating you up, and I’ll help you.”

  “I said I don’t need your help,” Drake said, not knowing how he could possibly stress that statement more.

  Andrew folded his arms, on the verge of letting his frustration loose. “So what are you gonna do? Sit up here and mope for the rest of your life? Refuse to eat? I don’t know why I’m suddenly taking the blame for all that took place yesterday, but it’s not fair to me to be treated this way, Drake.”

  “Oh, I know. It’s my fault again just like everything else that goes wrong in my life.”

  “That’s the problem! The biggest part of forgiveness is admitting that you’re wrong and learning to drop the issue. Instead, you wanna keep bringing it up without ever telling me the real reason for your anger. You’re angry with yourself, you’re angry with the people around you…I don’t want that life for you and neither does God. You’ll never heal with that kind of attitude.”

  “I don’t expect to heal. And I certainly don’t expect church-lovers like you to make my life perfect. That’s a joke.”

  “You hate church that badly, don’t you?”

  Drake saw his mom in his head, just as clear and unblemished this time as if deep creases had never scarred the picture he carried of her. “No, I hate God.” He sounded just like his dad when he said that. “I hate the kind of life He dumped on me. I hate Him for coming into my family and ripping it apart. We were happy and normal before He ever came in.”

  Andrew listened quietly before saying, “Are you sure it’s God you hate and not your real enemy? If a family is sick, Drake, whose fault is it? The doctor’s or sickness’s?”

  “The doctor’s, because a real doctor—if that’s your way of talking about God—should never let them get sick in the first place.”

  “But the people still have to open their door to the Doctor. He won’t force Himself in.”

  Drake gritted his teeth and felt a burning sensation flare up in his chest. “He sure forced Himself into mine. If there is a God, then I’ve got a lot of questions for Him, starting with this one, ‘Why did You give me such a miserable life?’ Where’s that at in your Bible? Oh, yeah, I forgot. All you people care about is yourselves.”

  “Whoa. When did I ever say—?”

  “Outside of your little circle, everyone else is just dirt to you. Filthy little sinners who are going straight to hell. I’m not good enough for Heaven, and I know it. I’m not exactly looking forward to hell either, but it’s what I deserve and I’m not going to try to get myself out of it.” He stopped and breathed deeply as Andrew stood there, watching him rant in his anger. “Just give me some time alone,” he said quietly. “That’s the best way you can help me right now.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Mom,” Andrew said over the phone that afternoon. “Nothing works anymore.”

  “I thought you told me everything was fine,” Kara said, concerned.

  Andrew straightened a few scattered items on his computer desk as he talked. “That was just because I didn’t want to go into it all yesterday. Truth is, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve never been a father before. I feel like I’m doing the best I can for Ronnie, but he’s easy to get along with. A frustrated teenager who clams up at the slightest remark is an entirely different story. I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing at first, but I can tell his heart’s far from this place.”

  “What about Ronnie? How is he handling this?”

  Andrew opened a drawer and tossed a handful of pencils inside. “That’s another thing I can’t understand. Even though Drake’s eighteen and Ronnie’s seven, Ronnie seems to love the fact that there’s someone a little closer to his age he can talk to. You outta hear the way he talks about Drake.”

  “Does Drake talk back, or does he ignore him?”

  “Sometimes I think Ronnie gets on his nerves, but he’s talked to him. In fact, Ronnie is the only reason Drake came to church.”

  “But now you’re saying it’s different?”

  Andrew sat down slowly on the armrest of his chair and glanced at the picture of him and Ronnie on his desktop. It felt like he was looking at something that took place years ago, though it had only been days. “Very. Now he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He hasn’t left his room all day, and when I came to get his plate, I found he hadn’t even touched his food. Something’s wrong, but I can’t figure it out. It’s like that call from the police just set him off, and now he won’t listen to what I say anymore.”

  “Andrew, I admire you for what you’ve tried to do for Drake.”

  “But you think it’s a bad idea?”

  “I didn’t say that. But what you need to realize is that before you can expect him to trust you, you have to show that you trust him first. You have to remember, Andrew, that you don’t know his background or where he came from. He may just have a lot of stuff in his past that he’s ashamed of, so don’t try to figure it all out at once.”

  “You mean I should let him keep it inside?”

  “For now, yes. Otherwise, he’ll feel like you suspect him if you try to pry too much. Once he feels like he can trust you, then either you can bring it up gradually or he may willingly come to you.”

  Andrew didn’t know what to say. Show Drake that he trusted him? But he didn’t trust him, did he? How could he ever trust someone like that again after what he had done? Drake had betrayed his confidence in him. He hadn’t reported him to the police, but he could never find it in himself to completely put his faith in him again either. Hadn’t that been enough trust shown on his part already?

  “I don’t know if I can do that, Mom. Like you said, I don’t know anything about his past. How can you trust someone you hardly know anything about?”

  Kara was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Why don’t you try asking Ronnie?”

  That statement stunned him. “Oh, come on, Mom. That’s different and you know it. Ronnie’s family. He already knew me before I took him in, and I knew him.”

  “If anyone had to learn how to trust again, it was Ronnie. He had been hurt too, Andrew, just as I’m sure Drake has had his share of hurts. He may not have the same story as Ronnie, but I know from what you’ve told me about him that he needs you just as much as Ronnie needs you.”

  “He sure has a strange way of showing it.”

  Kara laughed. “Raising kids is never easy, Andrew, but I have to say, if anyone could take care of Drake best, it’s you.”

  Andrew tried to smile despite his fears. “Just pray for him, Mom. And me too.”

  “I will.”

  “No, I really mean it. I have a feeling he’s in a major battle right now.”

  “With you?”

  “No, with himself. That’s the worst kind.”

  Drake had never been one to formulate words easily, so he gave up before he even got started with the note and packed his things instead. I’ll just wait till he’s in the bathroom or something before I sneak out of here. Who cares if I give him an explanation or not? It’s not like he won’t know why I’ve left. That isn’t too hard to figure out.

  Drake heard the enormous grandfather clock downstairs strike four o’clock. Where had the time gone? If I’m gonna leave, I need to do it now. He wasn’t spending another night in a strange place without first scoping out the area—preferably one with no Ivans, drugs, or devious plans. With only five, maybe six more h
ours of daylight left, he knew he needed to leave now whether Andrew saw him or not.

  That familiar feeling of doubt settled in his gut as he wriggled his shoes on and flung his dirty duffel bag over one shoulder. It was goodbye easy living and hello street life again for him. Only this time, he wasn’t coming back. He would never make that mistake again.

  Andrew hung up the phone just as Drake was descending the stairs. “Where are you going?” he said, eyeing the single bag Drake was carrying and noticing his shoes were on.

  “Leaving.”

  “Leaving?”

  Drake stopped and stood there. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that? I thought you would’ve been expecting it.”

  “I had expected you to stay, not leave.”

  “Oh, well. You know now.”

  Andrew stepped in front of Drake just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “No one wants you to go.”

  “I do.”

  Stubbornness isn’t helping your case. “It’s raining hard outside now, so—”

  “I’ve walked in the rain before. I’ll get used to it.”

  “Well, I won’t, so you’re staying here until it passes, understand?” Andrew said edgily, wishing that every time he and Drake spoke it wouldn’t end up in a fight.

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “We’ll be eating supper soon and you’re welcome to a meal. After that, you can do whatever you like.”

  Drake sighed loudly and threw his duffel bag in a chair. “Fine.” He was actually glad Andrew had mentioned food, because by now he was starving. Plus, this may be the last decent meal he tasted in a long time, if ever again.

  Ivan remembered details. People were only pawns for getting the information he wanted, and Drake had been the perfect candidate because he was desperate. Their conversation had all been an act on Ivan’s part, a manipulation of words that was meant for his own gain. Using Drake was supposed to be easy, just another game of chess where he picked apart his opponents until they were forced to either forfeit or face the penalty—never a pretty sight from six feet under. The setup and kidnapping were flawless, and while the wallet contained little, Ivan’s plan promised cash. Everything was going smoothly until…

  Ivan cursed. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Drake. He could practically feel the money leaving his hands every time he imagined Drake conning him at his own game. Andrew Tavner may have slipped from his grasp once, but Ivan had a way of getting what he wanted, due to a little more information Drake had spilled without realizing its far-reaching consequences. But Ivan remembered. Oh, yes. He remembered well.

  “Was that the house?” Lomas said, turning in his seat to check the address on the mailbox they had just passed.

  “Missed it,” Ivan said, abandoning his thoughts to muse over some other time. “I’ll turn around.” He slowly drove past the mailbox again.

  “That’s the one,” Lomas said, unable to break his gaze from the antique white, Victorian-style home trimmed in chocolate brown and accented by a winding stone walkway. “Just look at that house. I’ll bet the inside’s filled with all sorts of expensive stuff.”

  Ivan ignored his drooling. “Lots of windows means most likely all alarm-protected. That goes for the doors as well.”

  Lomas tossed his cigarette out the window and faced Ivan. “Whadaya think? We never tried breakin’ into a house this big before. Could be more of a gamble than it’s worth.”

  “Nothing’s worth more than the money,” Ivan snarled. “Drake has a debt he owes us for standing us up.” He surveyed the area for any busybody neighbors who might be lurking behind the protection of their curtains, watching them. “Coast appears clear, but I still don’t want you actin’ suspicious. We’ll meet up behind the fence in his backyard. If we’re gonna get in, it’s gonna be through the back where there’s nothin’ but trees and thick brush. Is that clear?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. You go first. I’ll park the car and meet you in ten minutes.”

  For once, supper was dead silent. The only sound came from the occasional crackle of garlic bread; too bad spaghetti noodles could be eaten noiselessly. Andrew could feel his body tensing up as he shot another glance at Drake, who stirred his food as if he were prepared to do so until he made pudding out of it.

  “What’s wrong with everybody?” Ronnie finally said, looking at them both.

  Andrew glanced up and caught Drake staring back at him. “Do you want to tell him, or would you rather I told him?”

  “Might as well get it over with now,” Drake said jadedly, slapping his fork down with a clang. “I’m leaving, Ronnie.”

  Ronnie furrowed his eyebrows. “What? But you can’t—”

  “I’m not staying here anymore. My mind’s made up.”

  Ronnie’s eyes fell to the table. “So you don’t like us anymore?”

  “Nothing personal. I just think it’s time I move on.”

  Ronnie bit his lip as his eyes blurred over with tears.

  Oh, no. Not the tears, Drake thought.

  Andrew reached over and rested a hand on Ronnie’s arm. “Ronnie, don’t get upset. It’s Drake’s decision.”

  Ronnie furiously shoved his chair away and darted from the room, blubbering words no one could understand. Drake heard the back door dramatically fling open, then bang shut. Knew I should have left a note.

  His appetite now completely lost, Andrew stood to go after him.

  “Wait,” Drake said. “I caused this. I’ll go find him.” He wandered through the living room, past the piano and all the beautiful things he knew he would soon miss, and opened the back door slowly. “Ronnie, c’mon, man. Don’t do this.” As tough as he was trying to be, it hurt him deeply to see the kid cry, especially after knowing he was the one who had caused it. “Ronnie?” he said louder. He shook his head and stepped out onto the porch.

  “Help!” someone shrieked.

  Drake searched the yard but didn’t see anyone. That sounded like…a stick snapped. He jerked his head in the direction of the noise.

  In a flash, Drake saw Ivan clamp a hand over Ronnie’s mouth just before he shot out of sight.

  Chapter

  14

  KIDNAPPED!

  Drake Pearson rushed through the door, nearly knocking Andrew over. “Ronnie’s been kidnapped!” he blurted, out of breath.

  Andrew’s face turned ashen. “What?!”

  “No time to explain!” Drake pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time.

  Andrew wanted to follow him, but ran outside instead and searched the streets. There wasn’t a single car on the road. No, God, he pleaded, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him. God, not Ronnie. Anyone but him.

  Drake yanked open Andrew’s dresser drawers and hysterically searched for his car keys. Stamps, no. Envelopes, no, not there either. Good grief, what was this, the post office? Hurry up! Hurry up! He heard Andrew sprinting up the stairs and yelling, “Who are they, Drake? Where are they taking Ronnie?”

  Drake ignored him and tried another drawer. Bingo. He snatched up the keys in a numb fist and turned to leave.

  Andrew appeared in the doorway like a pale phantom, eyes wide and frenzied with panic. “Tell me, Drake!” he demanded. “Tell me where they’ve taken him!”

  Drake wanted to scream. His mind was playing games with him again, confronting him with an evil he wasn’t ready to face. He knew he was to blame for this disaster; was his mind resolute on beating him down with that truth until he fell apart in self-destruction? A guy could only take so much pressure before—

  “Drake!”

  Drake shook in anger. He could kill Ivan for this. “Call 911 and tell ’em he’s probably been taken to a shack behind some diner called Miller’s!”

  “Where’s that?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t take notes about the place! That’s all I remember!”

  “Well, show me! Drive me there…do something!”

  Reminded of every wasted second by the r
apid pumping of his heartbeat, Drake rammed past Andrew. “I’m going to get him!”

  Andrew spun. “Drake, you’re not leaving without me!”

  “I’m going alone!” Drake hollered back, racing down the stairs.

  Andrew tried to catch up, but Drake was out the door before he reached the bottom stair. “Drake! Drake, do you hear me?!” he screamed.

  An engine started. Andrew looked out the window just in time to see Drake peel out of the driveway and accelerate down the street. Dear God…Don’t let them hurt Ronnie.

  Drake was flying through the streets with the hazard lights on, trying desperately to remember exactly where it was he had been yesterday. He had taken so many side streets and cut through countless back yards that more than once he had to back up and retrace his steps. Some things looked familiar, but every time he thought he was on the right track, he came to an intersection, forcing him to rely on what little information he had stored in his memory. Everything had taken place in one huge blur yesterday as he ran down lonely alleys and sidewalks that he was surprised he could remember anything.

  Drake could feel something stirring inside him, and even though he was angry and frustrated with himself, he found himself crying out to the only one who could help him now.

  God.

  “Oh, God…” he started, his bottom lip quivering with fear as he felt warm acid creeping up his throat. “God, if You’re real…if You can even hear this…I promise I’ll go back to church if You’ll only protect Ronnie. I’ll even get a Bible to read. I’ll go to church every week and get my life right if You just promise me that You won’t let them hurt Ronnie. I promise I’ll change. Just give me another chance.”

  “Say something, you stupid brat! Where’s Drake?” Ivan yelled, slapping Ronnie hard across the cheek for the fifth time.

  By now, Ronnie was so much in tears that he could barely speak. “Please don’t hit me again,” he whined.