Page 8 of Breaking Boston

I'm torn between what I've been promised, the life I deserve, and the life I've built for myself.

I lay there, my mind still clouded by doubt, as the effects of the sedative put me into another heavy slumber.

Seventeen more days until I'm free…

TWO

THE ESCAPE

BOSTON

17 DAYS LATER

Watching the sunrise doesn't hold the same charm as it once did. When Lux and Donovan were here, we used to gather on the roof every morning. We would drink coffee, share a badly rolled joint, and watch the sun rise on the horizon. It had a peaceful and calming vibe and brought us hope that ‘tomorrow' would be a better day. But it never was. It's no wonder they left me, considering how unbearable each day was for us.

I sip from the warm, steaming coffee mug and gaze at the sky, shivering slightly from the gentle gust of wind. While the coffee warms me, I can't help but smile at the sun's rays. They transform the sky into a stunning combination of pink and orange, creating a magical aura that envelops the whole city.

It's a beautiful day for graduation.

Listening to the symphony of impatient horns, gunfire, and angry screams echoing throughout the city, I'm brought out of the tranquil place in my mind, reminded quickly of where I am.Good old Lynn. I hum the city's motto as I stand up and make my way back inside.

Lynn, Lynn the city of sin. You never come out, the way you came in. You ask for water, but they give you gin. The girls say no, yet they always give in. If you're not bad, they won’t let you in. It’s the damndest city I’ve ever lived in. Lynn, Lynn the city of sin. You never come out, the way you came in.

Sneaking back in my window, I almost drop the mug of coffee in my hands when I see Bobby sitting on the edge of my bed, anger swirling in his drunken eyes.Fuck...

"Where the fuck were you?" he sneers, his words already slurred.

"Getting some air."

I try to stay as far away from him as I can, knowing what can happen if I let my guard down. Debbie enters my room, an evil glare on her face as she looks at me.

"How come you're not ready yet?" she asks, glancing between me and Bobby.

"I was about to get ready," I answered skeptically, wondering what her motive was. I know she isn't coming to my graduation, so there's another reason she and Bobby are in my room.

"Well, don't bother. I need you to watch the little kids while Bob and I run a few errands."

"Debbie, it's my graduation. I can't miss it."That's a lie. I can miss it, but I don't want to. I've been through hell and back and somehow managed to keep up my grades and graduate with high honors. Was I not allowed to have one thing to be proud of?

Enraged, she storms over to me and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling so hard it feels like she ripped it out of my scalp. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I manage to slip out of her grasp, but she's back in my face before I know it. I see her hand raise and I close my eyes, bracing myself for her slap; itechoes in my ears, making them ring and my cheek burn, feeling like it's on fire.

"Eighteen years old and still talking back," she bites angrily, slapping me again across my other cheek. "What the hell do you need a graduation for, Boston? You've already graduated. There's no need for a fucking celebration." She cocks her head to the side and spits at my feet. "You're following in your whore of a mother's footsteps, Boston. Watch it."

I grit my teeth and bite my tongue, holding back from unleashing on her; it'll only make the situation worse.

"Fine, I'll watch the kids."

She grins and walks out of my room just as quickly as she stormed in, a drunk Bobby following right behind her.

My face throbs with pain as I survey the damage she's caused, hating what I see in the mirror. But somehow, I manage to twist my lips into a smirk as I realize that their distracted departure means I have a chance to plan my escape.

They think they can treat me like nothing—like a servant—but when night falls, I'm leaving this fucking place behind me for good.

I had spentall day getting high, hearing car doors slam every few minutes, and peeking out the blinds to see if Debbie and Bobby were home. But every time I looked, all I saw was traffic from the dope house across the street. I had given up any hope of me attending my high school graduation, especially as night fell, and they still weren't home.

I had missed out on so many things growing up, I was hoping I'd get to experience this, but that couldn't happen. Debbie wouldn't allow me one fucking day of happiness; instead, she wanted me to wallow in misery, refusing to let me forget who was in control—who owned me. She knew I'd never put the kids in jeopardy, and that when push came to shove, I'd choose my foster siblings over anything—including myself—any day.

Debbie and Bobby were foster parents only for the check they got every month, not because they wanted to give a troubled kid a loving home. If they weren't forcing us on our hands and knees to scrub the floors with a toddler toothbrush, then they were chaining us to our beds while each one took turns beating us with whatever was in arms reach, burning us with lighters, matches, and cigarettes, and other countless, vile acts that drained every ounce of hope we'd ever had.

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