In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

  “Car’s all packed.”

  When I walked past him, he stopped me. His eyes searched mine, wanting a more elaborate answer.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked with a hint of desperation.

  I nodded, giving my best convincing smile. “I’m gonna go say bye to Trish. I think she’s still asleep. I’ll meet you down in the car.”

  As soon as I heard the front door close, I ran into the bathroom and cried. This’s going to be great. I’m going to have a good time. I repeated the mantra to myself over and over again. My pep talk wasn’t doing any good; the tears kept on coming. With Wren’s confession, those three words chipped away most of the cement that had been protecting my heart. In the last two days, I’d cried more than I had in years. It was going to take all I had to make it through this vacation without breaking down. I allowed the last few tears to trail down my cheeks and then, with a tissue, removed all evidence. I took one long, deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

  I lightly knocked on Trish’s bedroom door before opening it. I heard her come in early this morning from her overnight shift, so understood why she was still in bed.

  “Trish,” I lightly shook her shoulder. “Trish?”

  “Hmm...” she murmured.

  “I’m leaving for the Hamptons,” I whispered. I kissed the top of her head and started walking away.

  “Kingsley?” her delicate voice called after me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have a good time, and be safe.” Trish sat up slowly and smiled. “I love you.”

  “Thanks, me too.”

  Wren was parked in front of the apartments. The car windows were all down, and his music was blaring from the speakers.

  “Mind not waking up my neighbors?” I nagged as I got into the car.

  “Mind not waking up my neighbors?” he mocked.

  I flipped him off and put on my seatbelt. I’d say that someone in this car was going to die on this road trip, but I didn’t know how to drive a stick.

  Two days had passed and the bruises on my body were still visible: four splattered on my wrists where he held me down and two on my right hip where he grabbed it to keep me in place. Yesterday, after it had happened, I ate my breakfast on the kitchen floor, as far as I could get from him. While Mr. and Mrs. Henderson sat at the dining table and talked about their money issues, I focused on the oatmeal in my bowl. I felt sick being in the same room as him, but I wasn’t allowed to eat anywhere else in the house. It was impossible to act like nothing had happened.

  “Kingsley, why are you eating on the floor? The kids are still in bed,” Mrs. Henderson said as she waved her fingers, demanding I sit at the table.

  I looked at the remnants in my bowl, making a split second decision to finish the last two bites quickly, so I would have an excuse to leave the room.

  “I’m finished anyway. I think I’ll just go down to my room.” I carried my bowl to the sink, placing it on top of the dirty pans. The faint smell of old milk and plates with last night’s dinner stuck to them made me queasy.

  I don’t think there has ever been a time that this sink has been empty. I’d offered many times to wash the dishes, but Mrs. Henderson would tell me I was too careless to wash them and I’d end up breaking everything. The only chore she trusted me with was taking the garbage bins to the end of the driveway.

  “You’ve been in your room an awful lot lately. It’s summer now, and you should probably be thinking about what you’re going to do with all of this extra time on your hands. Me and Frank will be at work during the day and you know you aren’t allowed in this house when we’re not here.”

  I peeked at Mr. Henderson. He was focused on what his wife was saying, his eyes never straying toward me. I was thankful for that. I didn’t want his eyes on me ever again.

  “Maybe I can babysit the kids instead of Jenny? I can—”

  “Absolutely not!” Mrs. Henderson slammed her fist on the table. “Jenny will be the one watching the children. You think I trust you to watch my kids all day?”

  It was a rhetorical question. I was tempted to answer it, but knew if I did, another part of my body would end up hurting. I was too tired to keep fighting off the pain. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered. “I’ll ask Mrs. Hall from down the street if she has anything I can help her with.” I stared at the ground as I spoke, afraid of looking up and finding Mr. Henderson’s eyes on me.

  “Good.”

  I waited a few seconds, making sure she was done talking to me, before practically running down the steps to the basement. This place was no longer my sanctuary. I looked down at the stray mattress on the ground. After it happened, I slept on the concrete with just my top sheet covering me. I didn’t want anything he touched near me. Just looking at my bed made me wish he had killed me instead. It was supposed to be a place of comfort—my bed was the only thing that was able to lull me into a peaceful sleep each night—but it could never be that again. The sheets were a reminder of that nightmarish night and I couldn’t bear the thought of them tainting my body more than it already was.

  I looked at my watch; it was time for my shower. Each day, I showered last, only leaving a smidgen of warm water. I needed more than ten minutes today. I needed to be the first person in line so that I could have the hottest water to wash away the grime left over from Mr. Henderson. I squirted more soap than usual into my hands and scrubbed my skin to the point where it began to ache. I shampooed my scalp twice, watching as the soapy, semi-warm water ran down the drain. I knew I could never again be clean, but the soap helped in washing away his filthy fingerprints.

  After showering, I threw on a t-shirt and shorts and put on my gym shoes. I decided to leave my hair down, allowing the curls to cascade just past my shoulders. I couldn’t sit in this house anymore without feeling like I was going insane. I’d seen countless children fall apart due to heartbreak and lost hope, and I didn’t want to be one of them.

  The first time I was admitted to a children’s shelter, I was only three. After seven years of being in someone’s care, I was re-admitted, coincidentally on my tenth birthday. In a sea of terrified eyes, I was lucky number twelve. I spent every day watching children break down. We all clung to the dream of being adopted, of leaving this place and never returning.

  The children that were skipped over each day as if they were damaged pit bulls in a cage started believing that they weren’t good enough to live. There wasn’t a day that passed where I didn’t hear their cries for help. I’d have to listen as they called for their fictitious mothers and fathers, begging for them to take them home. Over time, I began covering my head with a pillow, only keeping out some of the screams. The nuisance children, which is what the staff workers called them, were locked in smaller rooms than the rest of us, where the only thing that kept them calm were the tiny windows above their beds, shedding just enough light to give them the smallest bit of hope that they could escape.

  I remember hoping I wouldn’t turn out like them, so when I was told that I was chosen to live with the Hendersons, I went from terrified to excited. When I first met them, I felt like I was the luckiest girl on the planet—or at least luckier than the kids who were still at the shelter. I walked into the front door of this house believing that it would be my safe haven. I was thrilled that there were other kids in the household. Tommy, Brian, and Ashley each shook my hand and told me how excited they were to have me there. Andrew, the youngest and the Hendersons’ only biological child, smiled up at me as he squeezed my legs in a bear hug. I was so excited to finally have brothers and sisters. I felt like I’d be protected no matter what. I was like the brand new toy that everyone wanted to play with. The kids would fight over me, pulling me in different directions. Come play in my room! No, it’s my turn. I want to show Kingsley something!

  After six months, I became the old doll thrown into the corner once there was something better to be had. The Hendersons came home with triplets: Ava, David, and Daniel. I was no longer the second person
to shower in the mornings; now I was tenth. I learned to wash my hair and body within four minutes, because that’s how long I had before the water would turn frigid. If it wasn’t for the extra bowl set out each morning at breakfast, I would have started to believe I was invisible.

  Three years had passed since that day, and here I am, wishing I could run from the place I thought would be my safe haven. I quietly walked downstairs, and saw that Andrew was sitting at the coffee table coloring by himself.

  “Hey, Bear, what are you coloring?” I asked, taking a seat next to him on the carpet.

  “Just some dinosaurs,” he replied.

  “It’s looking really good.” I grabbed a green crayon and began coloring the opposite page. “Where are your mom and dad?”

  “They’re getting ready for work.”

  Andrew’s lips jutted out as he concentrated on staying in the lines. He looked nothing like a Henderson. While both Mr. and Mrs. Henderson’s eyes were brown, his were bright green. His face was sprinkled with freckles and his smile was so angelic, it even melted his ruthless parents’ hearts.

  I finished coloring the dinosaur’s back just as I heard Mrs. Henderson’s voice from upstairs. “All right, Drew, I’m gonna go, but I’ll be back tonight.”

  I stood up and brushed off my knees.

  “Where are you going?” He finally looked up at me, a big smile forming on his cheeks.

  I smiled back. “I have to help Mrs. Hall, the older lady down the street.”

  “Oh, okay! Can I come with?” He threw the crayon on the table and stood up excitedly.

  “Bear, you have to stay here,” I said, grabbing hold of his hand. “But I’ll see you tonight. I promise.”

  His smile fell. He sat back down on the carpet and picked up where he left off.

  “Bear?” I nudged him with my toe, hoping to produce a smile.

  “You never play with me anymore. You’re always in your room,” he whined.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else I could say. I wished I could tell him the truth about his parents and all of the things they’d done to me, but he didn’t need to know those things. I wanted him to keep his innocence for as long as possible.

  Andrew didn’t reply, he just continued coloring. When I heard the bedroom door open, I knew I had to go and fast. I kissed Drew on the cheek and slipped outside. The wind whipped through my hair as I walked down the sidewalk. Mrs. Hall lived a block away and every now and then I’d help her around her house. She was old. I don’t know how old because when I asked her, she plopped me on the head and told me I was never supposed to ask a lady that question. I assumed she was at least eighty because her skin was sort of saggy and her hands were pretty much see-through.

  “Kingsley,” Mrs. Hall greeted, opening her door halfway.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hall. I was wondering if you needed any help with anything today?”

  “Oh.” Worry filled her face. She opened her door and stepped out. “Sorry, Kingsley, my son came by this past weekend and cleaned up the house for me. Maybe come by in a few days? I’m sure I’ll have something for you then.” She patted my head, stepped back into her home, and shut the door.

  I didn’t have any options after Mrs. Hall, so I decided to walk around. After all, I did live in New York. There were lots of things I could do to pass the time...or so I thought.

  After thirty minutes of gazing up at the clouds and trying to pick out what each one resembled, I became excruciatingly bored. I looked at the watch Ms. Cole had given me and watched the tiny ballerina shoe move past the number nine. When Ms. Cole gave me the watch, she told me it was because I was her best student. It was the most beautiful thing I owned. The light pink band wrapped perfectly around my wrist and I was fascinated as I watched the pointe shoes on each hand move past the numbers. Other than the few outfits I had, this watch was my most prized possession.

  I didn’t realize how far I had walked until I looked up at the shop sign. I was outside of Cafe Grumpy. Before I lost my courage, I pulled open the door handle and tiptoed inside.

  I stood by the door, staring wide-eyed at all of the people in the shop. There was a long line—at least ten people waiting to order. The workers behind the counter moved so quickly from one machine to the next, I could have sworn they were racing each other to see who could serve the fastest. I looked down at my watch. The Hendersons were just now leaving the house, which meant Jenny, Andrew, Ava, David, and Daniel were left at home. Ashley, Brian, and Tommy were older than me and all had jobs summer jobs of their own. I didn’t understand why Mrs. Henderson trusted Jenny with the younger kids more than me. Jenny was irresponsible. She only cared about herself. One thing she was good at though was tricking everyone into believing she was a perfect little angel. Only I knew the truth.

  I debated going back to the house and sneaking in to hide in the basement until the Hendersons returned home. I could sneak back out of the house and walk in ten minutes later, claiming I just got back from Mrs. Hall’s. The Hendersons didn’t care enough to consider if it was a lie or not. Just as I turned and grabbed onto the door handle to leave, I heard a voice I would have recognized in a crowd of a thousand people.

  Porter was sitting at a cafe table with an older man I assumed was his dad. He was laughing so hard that he was clutching his stomach with one hand and banging on the table with the other. A smile instantly materialized on my face.

  “Excuse me.” A woman pushed on the door handle, causing my arm to drop to my side.

  I was tempted to grab back on to the handle, this time actually leaving, but I couldn’t. As scared as I was to approach Porter, I was more excited at the fact that we were in the same place at the same time. This was my chance to talk to him again. Over the noise of the cafe, I focused in on his conversation. I heard bits and pieces. “Baseball this weekend?” “No, I want to go to the beach.” Before I changed my mind, I hastily walked over to their table.

  “Porter...hi.” I smiled as big as I could, happy that I had worn my hair down. I almost felt pretty.

  “Kingsley!” Porter’s eyes shot up at me. “Hey!” He stood up and gave me a hug.

  It was the closest we’d ever been. His chest collided with mine. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and when he squeezed me, happiness spread through my whole body.

  “Dad,” Porter let go and turned toward his dad, “this is Kingsley. I go to school with her.”

  He sat back down and pointed to the empty seat at their table. Without letting myself overthink it, I sat down, nervously smiling at Porter and his father.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kingsley,” Mr. Henning said warmly, shaking my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Dad!” Porter exclaimed.

  His dad laughed and shook his head. “Kingsley, would you like something to drink?”

  “Oh!” My eyes darted to the menu above the registers. I scanned the prices, looking for anything that was less than two dollars. It’s all I had left after the five that Mrs. Hall had given me last week. “I’ll just have some warm milk, thank you.” I reached in my back pocket for the remaining money.

  “Oh, no way. It’s on me. Well, actually it’s on my dad,” Porter laughed. “And no way are you ordering warm milk! They have so many amazing drinks here. You have to choose something else.”

  Both Porter and his father stared at me, waiting for me to change my order. I felt panic rise in my chest. I had never had anything off of the menu, and I wasn’t sure what a hazelnut frappuccino or a vanilla latte even was.

  “I’m gonna get you my favorite drink,” Porter said decidedly, then stood up. Before walking away, his dad handed him his credit card.

  “So, you go to school with Porter?”

  “Yes, Mr. Henning.”

  “Please, call me Christopher.” He smiled warmly. Right as he opened his mouth to speak again, his phone began to ring. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”

  Mr. Henning walked out of the cafe, leaving me alone at the tab
le. I watched Porter hand the credit card to the cashier. His fingers smoothed through his hair as he patiently rocked back and forth on his heels. Porter looked back at me and smiled before grabbing the drink. I’d seen his smile so many times since I first laid eyes on him, yet every time the expression filled his face, it somehow gave me more joy than the last.

  “Here we go.” Porter sat a steaming oversized mug down on the table. “This is the greatest drink you’ll ever have.”

  I wished I could have told him that a cup full of watered down Kool-Aid would have made me happy. I bent down near the mug and breathed in the delicious scent. I’d never smelled anything so wonderful in my entire life. I inhaled it again, not able to get enough of the rich cocoa filling the air. “What is it?” I asked, feeling the warm mug against my fingertips.

  “Just try it. I promise, you’re gonna love it.”

  Not as much as I love you.

  “Okay.” I took a sip and sweetness flooded my mouth. My taste buds awoke from the dead, the delicious drink stimulating every inch of my tongue. I could feel the warm liquid move down my throat and into my stomach, leaving behind a satisfying chocolaty after taste.

  “What do you think?”

  I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes after taking my first sip. I was so mesmerized by the wonderful taste, I didn’t notice that Porter had been studying my face the whole time. Thankfully, I was too happy with the amazing drink to be too mortified.

  “I—” I took a deep breath, not wanting my excitement to embarrass me. Words failed me, so instead, I showed him. I moved my thumb over my middle finger and brought my hand to my lips.

  “You remember!” Porter praised.

  I wanted to tell him that I would never forget it. It was the first time he ever touched my skin, and I swore the spot on my wrist was still warm from the contact.

  “Hey, kids,” Mr. Henning returned to the table, but didn’t take his seat, “I just got called into the office. Porter, do you want me to drive you home, or do you want your mother to pick you up later this afternoon?”