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I make it to the landing and turn the silver knob to the room I’m told is mine and I hear Mrs. Murray’s voice before I close the door with a thud. “It’s Caroline.”
I call them Mr. and Mrs. Murray out of respect, but mostly because it’s formal, and I don’t consider them my parents or guardians, to be honest. I don’t have parents. I never did. I gave up on that notion when I was eleven.
Sixteen was the age I realized I was truly alone and had no family. My mother was still in jail for drug use, possession, child neglect, and child abuse from when social services took me away at eleven. My stepfather was tried for the same, but his sentence was a lot worse.
I look at the soft white comforter I had used as a makeshift bed the night before that still remains in the closet. I look at the mattress like it is the first time I laid eyes on it. The mattress looks soft, and it’s a full size, not like the hard twin mattresses I was used to, but when you are accustomed to hiding while you sleep, it’s a hard habit to break.
I open the two wooden doors the rest of the way to the wall-to-wall closet. It only has my school uniforms hanging inside, and the black trash bag I keep my other clothes in, and push it to the side to make some more space. I adjust the comforter on the floor to prepare to go to bed after I take a hot shower.
I started sleeping in the closet when I was nine. It was so my stepfather wouldn’t easily find me when he was high on whatever the drug of choice was at the time. When he was in that condition and couldn’t see me in the bed, he usually left me alone. The closet was my haven. Hiding would also give me time to get away if someone was looking for me, or give me time to sneak out the window. Sneaking out of the window was relatively easy. I would always make sure to leave the latch unlocked just in case. Being abused practically all your life leaves lasting effects. It makes you realize how alone and helpless you are in a room full of people. You never know which monster around you is more evil than the other.
In this house, I’m not so sure about the monsters, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve learned not to trust anyone, even If they say you are their daughter. I have had plenty of wannabe fathers in my life so far. Tyler is also two doors down from my room, and I don’t trust him either. He didn’t waste any time letting everyone know how unwanted I am in his life at school.
Stephen Murray doesn’t know me, and he doesn’t care. If he did, I wouldn’t be so fucked up. I wouldn’t have people look at me like I’m a disease that is invading their perfect little lives. I wouldn’t have been left with a mother who only cared about her next hit of meth with anything she could sell or find.
After a hot shower, I hear a knock on my door. “Yeah.” I call out.
“My mother says dinner is ready.” I hear Tyler’s muffled voice through the door.
I sigh and turn the knob as I open the door with more force than necessary. He stands at the threshold and lowers his chin to his chest.
“Are you going to tell them what happened?”
“Why? So you can add that I’m a snitch to the list of crap you have already told everyone about me?”
I cried in the shower. I couldn’t help it. It’s been an emotionally exhausting day. My eyes must be red and puffy, but I don’t care. I just want to leave. Not be stuck in a never-ending system. A cycle of lies and neglect.
I want to have friends, get a job, maybe a boyfriend. Someone who likes the real me and can see past my history. I didn’t ask for a meth-addicted mother who hated the fact that I was born, or a father who could not have cared less about me. Or even a half-brother who sees me like a threat to his existence.
I didn’t cry and pity myself because of what Tyler said about me, though. I cried because I held on to an image of a boy who turned out to be someone I don’t recognize. The love I had for him is what kept me going. I never reached out or looked for him because what would be the use? I was stuck in a government system and too young to do anything about it. We had a pact. A bond. At least that was what I thought we had. I guess I was lying to myself. Maybe it was best that I had to leave so I didn’t see how he became the person he is now, a person I don’t recognize. A guy who hates me. He could never love a girl like me. My beautiful boy has turned into a monster. One thing about being around monsters is, you don’t run from them, you face them when the time is right. At eleven years old, it wasn’t the time.
“Look, what happened today was not me. It was Ky and Nicole. She has this thing with him since they––” He trails off when he looks up.
Shit. He probably sees my eyes and could tell I was crying. What he almost said was since they fucked. I’m sure Ky has hooked up with most of the girls at school. I wouldn’t be surprised with how good-looking he is. I get it. I’ve seen it from where I’m from. Except where I’m from, guys don’t come from money and have nothing to lose except their freedom. They end up in gangs and sell drugs to make up for the lack of direction they never had. The gangs become their family…selling drugs their career. When you have a record, there aren’t many options when you become an adult.
“Fucked,” I finish for him, and he blinks. “You mean to say since they fucked. Good to know I have to watch some chick with a hard-on for Ky trying to go after me when he’s around. She’s lucky I didn’t break her face.”
He raises his brows. I must sound like I’m jealous, but I’m not. I can’t be jealous of someone who thinks a girl like that is even attractive. A girl who is attractive and has a great personality would be a girl like Chris’ sister, Abby. The one who secretly glanced at Tyler with longing. The one Tyler obviously fails to notice, but that is not my problem. I don’t know them, and maybe I’m reading it all wrong.
“You didn’t hear me say that. I really meant what I said. I didn’t send Ky over to you or Nicole. That was all him, and I told him to leave you alone.”
I believe him because Ky has kept a secret of his own. A secret I’m sure he doesn’t want out. The one that says we met as kids. That we spent every week together for a year when we were eleven years old. That we were best friends and shared things. Things like my first kiss. It was a peck on the lips, but still a kiss. A kiss I remember. The one kiss that was better than any of the forced ones I received in a group home when I was a teenager from boys who don’t know how to take no for an answer.
“Can we go downstairs and act like nothing happened. Please.” He raises his eyes, pleading for me to go along with it. “For my mother.” He swallows. “She’s fragile, and I’m not sure how she is taking all of this. I’ll tell my father you had an accident in the cafeteria, and after school you got a ride from a friend after they loaned you a shirt from lost and found. It’s not a total lie.”
If he means his mother is fragile, that can only mean one thing, she suffers from depression. That is what rich snobs call being fragile. I know that much watching TV. Caroline Murray most likely suffers from depression. I’m curious.
“Why is your mother fragile?”
He averts his eyes and slides his hands inside the pockets of his gray sweats. “She couldn’t have children after having me,” he says in a low tone.
Damn. That means she must not want me here, or the fact that I exist must bother her. She plays it off well though. Caroline has been very nice and has only shown kindness since I showed up. He is probably telling me so that I can be on my best behavior.
“Alright, I’ll go along with it. I’m not here to disrupt your perfect little life or your mother’s, and my plan is to leave after I graduate. I don’t want a brother, and I’m not here to take your daddy away from you.”
“Then why are you here? The truth.”
I give him a side grin. “I don’t know. I told your father to leave me with social services, but he refused. I never wanted to come.” I lower my voice and he watches me as I speak slowly. “I… don’t… want… to… be… here. Totally out of my control.”
