“What happened to him afterward?”
“He’s older than the other two. Fewer people want to adopt older children, and rarely a group of siblings. They were eventually separated, and Arkin stayed in a children’s group home for a while.” She shrugs, squinting up at the clear sky above. “But he’s eighteen now.”
Elbows on my knees, I bury my head in my hands. “So, you took him in?”
“He needs a safe home until he can find his feet. A bright kid like him, on the cusp of adulthood, just needs the right support.” She puts her small hand on my shoulder. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to hear it from us. Arkin will tell you himself one day. That’s what we’re hoping for.”
“What about his siblings?”
“They were adopted a few years back. That’s where Arkin and your dad are now. Visiting his brother and sister.”
I lift my head, eyes wide. “Dad said he was taking Arkin to the garden center.”
Mum strokes my hair affectionately. “They’re dropping by B&Q on the way back.”
My chest tightens. I’m the biggest arse to have ever existed. Arkin was abused for years and unable to protect his siblings from a fucking monster. Now, his regular nightmares and the way he sometimes flinches at sudden movement make a whole lot of sense.
What do I do with this information? What happened between us last night felt right, but now I feel awful for treating him like shit, for taking advantage of him full stop.
“I wish you would have told me,” I say to Mum as I stand on shaky legs. “You should have said something.”
“I’m sorry.” She squints up at me with a regretful smile. “You’re right, Zachary. We should have prepared you better.”
My head spins as I cross the lawn and enter the house. Once I’m out of sight, I slump against the nearest wall. What the fuck have I done? There’s all this shame and regret swirling low in my gut, but there’s also toxic rage simmering at the thought of his sick uncle hurting him. I should have asked my mum what happened to the uncle.
He's rotting in jail, right? Fuck, I hope so. I hope they beat him fucking senseless for laying his hands on kids.
I fist my hands and slide down the wall. There are so many questions I want to ask, but the only man I want answers from won’t talk to me. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
My chest throbs with a deep-seated ache. Roots buried so deep that I can’t pull them out. Not this time.
Crouched, I let it all out with a roar that burns my lungs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Arkin
Idon’t like college. The people here are not nice, and I’m too different, but my psychologist assured me that I was ready and that it was in my best interest to be around other people. The world is a big, scary place.
I miss my siblings. They’re in a good place now, and happy, which is all that matters. Still, I miss them and feel responsible for their well-being. It used to tear me up inside when our uncle would hurt them. Back then, I felt so helpless and alone.
My breaths grow shallow as I lean up against the wall in the busy hallway.They’re safe,I think, readjusting my bag. I saved them.
I breathe in and out, fighting off the dizzying panic. Maybe I should have been honest with my psychologist and told her I didn’t feel ready for college. But no, I need to stay strong for them. I’m finally free and not chained up in that house, or stuck in a group home. I’m free. I can come and go as I please. Maybe one day, my siblings can stay with me, but that won’t happenunless I show their caseworker and the court that I’m capable. This is where I need to be for that to happen.
A different voice slithers into my head, one I have come to dread. I shake my head before dropping my bag to the floor and digging my palms into my eyes.
The reeking dog food slides from the can into the bowl at my feet with a wet plop. Uncle Chester crouches in his creased boxers and slides it closer with one of his sick smiles. “Here, doggy, doggy. Dinner is served.”
I’ve been handcuffed to the radiator for three days. Before that, I was down in the basement with my sister.
His wife cackles in the doorway, cigarette dangling from her bottom lip. “You know he thinks he’s too good to eat that.”
“Not if he’s hungry enough,” Chester says, showcasing his smoke-stained teeth. “He’ll soon gobble it up like it’s fine dining. Ain’t that right?” He pats my cheek with his meaty fingers, and I jerk my face away.
It pisses him off.
He backhands me hard before tipping the bowl’s content over my head. Big, wet clumps slide down the sides of my face, but he’s not happy until he’s squished it all into my mouth and nose with his sweaty hand. “Fucking prick. You should have died with my useless brother.”
