Page 3 of Bound For You

She gives me a small smile and guilt rise in my guts. “I don’t have to talk to them again if you don’t want me to, Mama.”

She chuckles lightly. “I would never ask you to do that. I think you three will become close, like brothers. And you’ll probably follow in their footsteps, even though I pray you won’t. I’ve always told you to live your life to the fullest ,and I’m not going to stop now,moy syn. You are your own person, and deserve to be whoever and whatever you want to be.”

I smile at her. “I’ll make you proud, Mama; you’re my whole world.” She smiles widely at me, then puts the car back into drive and takes us home. I couldn’t imagine a life without my mama in it, she’s all I need.

Four years later, though, the cancer took her, and I felt pain like no other. The Volkovs took in a teenage boy, struggling with grief, and they became my family.

one

Avery – Nine Years Old

I sitin the pantry of the old house, hiding in between the cupboards. I have my hands over my ears, tears streaming down my face, and I can feel the blood mixing with my tears.

Since entering foster care five years ago, I have been moved to eight different foster homes, all only wanting me for the government paycheck or for other certain activities. My father never did claim me, and I have had to suffer because of him. Each home I was placed in has been worse than the other, I ran away from three of them. The first two, they sent me back to the children’s home when I stopped being useful to them or stopped being a certain age, and the last three, I was hit more times than I can count, and starved every day. Each time I ran, I was found and taken back to the children’s home, with the foster parents stating I was unruly, and violent. And the social workers believed them.

The home I’m currently in is one of the worst; my foster father Ben is a mean drunk. I walked in from the school bus, and he was already drinking while sitting on the filthy sofa,watching the hockey game. His team lost, and I stepped into the living area at the wrong time. I became his target, and to make it worse, the game was a month old. He likes to re-watch it for reasons I don’t know.

Last month, he hit me with a bat on my side and cracked three ribs, but told the doctor I fell down the stairs. This time, though, he hit me on the side of my head. I blacked out and, when I woke up…. I shake my head, more tears falling down my face, not wanting to think about what he was trying to do. I’ve been in enough homes to know what he wanted. I could see his bat next to my head and I quickly grabbed it, hitting him on his head. He dropped beside me, and I scrambled to my feet, running to the pantry where my secret hiding place is, in between the cupboards. And I here wait for Hannah, my foster mother, to arrive home. She’s nasty, likes to slap me across the face a lot, but as soon as she’s home, I can make a run for it. They’ll start to argue, and that’s my chance. I’d rather live on the streets than any foster home again.

I don’t know how long I sit here but I start to feel dizzy, I blink my eyes and gently press on the side of my face. There’s a big lump there. I hear a bang, making me jump, and I look toward the pantry door. It doesn’t open, though. Then I hear the screaming, and I breathe in a sigh of relief.

Hannah’s back from her day job.

I quickly but quietly sneak out and head toward the backdoor when their arguments start; it’s my only chance, so it’s now or never.

As I open the door, I hear her yell, “What do you mean you hit her with the bat again? They’ll get fucking suspicious, then we’ll lose a big portion of our fucking income, you moron! The Romanians are offering thousands for her!”

I don’t wait to hear his reply, realizing she’s talking about selling me, and I run as fast as I can out the backdoor whichleads into an alleyway, and I turn right. As soon as I get to the end, I run right into a policeman.

He grabs a hold of my arms. “Whoa there, sweetheart.”

I kick out, screaming, “No, let me go, I won’t go back, I won’t.”

He frowns then gets a good look at my head, his eyes hardening.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I shake my head again as my tears fall from my eyes, then I hear my name being angrily screamed.

“Avery!”

I still in the policeman’s arms, and he looks at me with understanding.

“They your parents?” he asks gently.

I shake my head and whisper, “Foster.” He nods and gently guides me toward his cop car.

“Let’s go get you checked out, okay?”

I look at him, surprised that he’s not taking me back to them, that he’s breaking protocol, but I keep quiet, and I nod as he helps me into his car. I look to my right and see Ben standing at the mouth of the alleyway, his hands behind the back of his head, face red, fuming that I got away. He’s looking up and down the street for me, not realizing I’m in the cop car. I turn my head, not wanting to look at him ever again, as the nice man drives off.

An hour later, I’m sitting in a curtained off room at the hospital when the curtain opens, and Mrs. Reeves comes in. I look down. Unlike when we first met, she hasn’t been the nicest as the years went on; she thinks I’m to blame for everything. The one time I tried to tell her what was happening, she told me to stop making up stories, that they have been really good foster parents before I came into their home, so now I just keep my mouth shut.

“What have you done now, Avery?” she asks with a sigh, but I don’t look up or answer her, even when the nice officer enters the room.

“You must be with Child Protective Services?”

Mrs. Reeves shakes his hand. “Yes, I am. I’ve known Avery here since she was four years old, and she’s been having difficulties in the homes she’s been placed in. When I got your phone call, I contacted her foster parents, who are sick with worry. She tripped on the bottom stair and slammed her head into the wall, then ran away because she thought she’d get in trouble.” She shakes her head, and I stiffen. It’s a good lie, but I won’t go back, I’ll run when they aren’t looking!

The police officer looks skeptical, and hope builds in my chest while he clears his throat.

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