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He studied me for a second, probably trying to decide how much he wanted to reveal. Hell, he just needed to tell me everything. I was quite sure I would be good with not having any more of my past in this house coming back to me.
“Your dad was in and out of jobs. There were police reports that detailed constant calls to your house. Sometimes CPS would be called, reports from your school coming in that you seemed hungry, and you were sneaking food in the cafeteria.”
A tear slid down my cheek. I stared at the long white scar on my palm. I guess I knew where that had come from.
“My mother was addicted to prescription drugs. She would go into her room and leave me alone all day. One day, I hurt myself pretty bad, and she’d overdosed that same day,” I said in a blank voice as my gaze trailed along the scratched cabinets, all done in that yellow-oak color that was so popular back in the day.
This house hadn’t been considered on trend even when I was growing up here.
It would have to be gutted by whoever ended up buying it if they didn’t want a relic from the 90s.
“My dad stitched up my hand himself and then made me hide in my room while the paramedics came to get my mom so that they wouldn’t know something had happened to me.” I glanced at Greyson again with a sad smile. “I guess that tracks with those CPS visits if that was happening all the time.” Greyson’s face was angry looking, like he was offended on behalf of my little kid self.
“You say the word and we’re gone, sweetheart,” Carter growled. His lips were also curled in animosity as he stared around the kitchen.
“I guess we might as well keep going,” I said with a sigh. I strode out of the kitchen and across the living room, to where I now remembered my parents’ bedroom was located. It was a funny thing, but walking into the room without knocking, it felt like something I wasn’t supposed to do.
I took a few steps in and stopped, rubbing at my chest, and then my head, because the flood of memories was almost too much.
“Fucking look at this,” Mom screamed as I listened through the door. I’d snuck out of my bed again when I’d heard them yelling. This had been happening more and more often lately.I think I’d been woken up every night for the past two weeks. “We’re going to be out on the streets!”
There was a crashing sound. “Would your life even change? You spend every day passed the fuck out anyway. You can just do it in the street.”
My mother made a screaming sound, and I plastered myself against the wall behind me, fear clattering around in my chest.
“Stop!” she yelled in a weird, garbled sounding voice.
I ran away, back up the stairs and into my room where I threw the covers over my head. “Please, stop. Please, stop. Please, stop,” I whispered, hoping that if I said it enough, that they would.
A loud bang sounded from downstairs and I flinched. Shivering more when my mom screamed again. Over and over until I didn’t think that I would ever get the sound of it out of my head.
“This was where my dad killed himself,” I whispered softly.
“He kept losing jobs and the bills were stacking up, and my mom was drugging herself to death. I remember…” My words faded as a memory came of a rainy day, where I’d dressed all in black and cried at my father’s grave. Because he’d been the only one who loved me. “I remember my mother once told me when she was high how he’d pointed it at her before pointing it at himself and squeezing the trigger.” I glanced up at Sebastian who was watching me with wide, sympathetic eyes. “I don’t think he meant to do it. I think he was just feeling overwhelmed. I think he would have stayed.”
It was a big thing to say considering I only had bits and pieces of memories, but it felt like the truth. From the memories that I’d had, I don’t think my dad had wanted to leave me like that.
I walked out of the bedroom and took a deep breath before heading up the stairs to where my bedroom had been.
Walking in, the room seemed much smaller than it had been in my memories.
“Pack your stuff up and put it in a box, Kennedy,” Mother snapped as she appeared in the doorway, looking way more dressed up than she usually did. Her brown hair was brushed and shiny, and she had some pink lipstick on that made her look really pretty. She wasn’t wearing a bathrobe either. Mom had on clothes that looked brand new.
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking up from the doll I was playing with. Or staring at—that was a better way for me to describe what I was doing.
“We’re moving in with your new father,” she said brightly, a smile on her face as if that was an everyday thing to announce.
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What?”
Her smile faded. “Are you talking back to me?”
“No, Mom,” I said quickly, not wanting to make her angry when she seemed like she was in a good mood for once. “Who exactly are you talking about?” I’d noticed that she’d been disappearing at night lately. And a few times I’d woken up for school, and she still hadn’t been home.
But that wasn’t much different than her staying in her room all the time, so I hadn’t thought much of it honestly.
“I met a wonderful man. He’s going to take care of us. Frank can’t wait to meet you!”
Frank. I didn’t like that name.
