Page 14 of Homecoming

I want to graduate and go to college, then have a simple and predictable future, but most of all, I want to be safe, and that is never going to happen if I don’t take risks in the first place. A dark part of me whispers that I could never really settle for a mundane life. I like punishing those who prey on innocents. The darkness inside me has grown over the years spent working for my father and being forced to do things that I would never have chosen to do. Instead of fearing the dark though, I welcome it, and if I am completely honest, I fucking revel in it.

No, the white picket fence life may not be for me, but I can punish those who deserve it on my terms. I can keep myself safe.

My resolve hardens as we pull up to the police station, and the cop lets me out of the car. As he is escorting me inside, he remains respectful of my aversion to touch and keeps a respectable distance between us. He ensures we aren’t touching, but he is close enough to grab me if I decide to run. That small amount of respect that he gives me is more than I have been shown in a long time and solidifies my decision.

I turn to him.

“Was the raid just on my father’s place?”

He watches me cautiously but replies, “No.”

Nodding, I state firmly as I bend the truth slightly. “I will tell you everything, his associates, the drop-off points. I will tell you everything I know. I will even testify, but I want all charges against me dropped. I did nothing willingly.”

Chapter Nine

Ever

Iam reasonably sure they don’t know about my less than savoury activities that had nothing to do with my father. After all, if they did, he wouldn’t be showing me kindness right now, despite the reasons behind why I do what I do.

I will tell them everything, even if I have to go back to juvie for a while, but I figure it’s worth a shot to ask.

“There weren't going to be any charges held against you. We are well aware that you were not a willing participant.” He growls.

The strength of his reaction confirms my suspicion that they have been watching my father for a while. It also tells me that they aren’t aware of everything or my part in it. That is something I will not be sharing with them. I have a feeling that they would be less forgiving if they found out just how dangerous I really am.

Dear old Dad wasn’t shy when he dished out the beatings, only being cautious enough that the school wouldn’t notice anything was wrong. The people he surrounded himself with didn’t give a shit, and in the last week or so, he had struck me in front of them on multiple occasions. If the cops were watching him as closely as it seemed, then they would have seen it. It could even be why they made a move when they did. I know this is my life, and I have accepted it, but normal people don’t take kindly to grown men using their seventeen-year-old daughters as punching bags.

I nod as he leads me to an interrogation room with a woman officer and then takes my statement. It takes a while, but I tell them everything. They both look horrified at what my father has put me through, but then again, any decent human being would be. I give them my statement with a blank expression, keeping my emotions locked down. There is no room for them right now. This recount of my life should always be told with no emotion.

Emotions are a weakness, one I can’t afford to have and one that has been used against me before.

“Is that everything?” The woman cop asks softly.

She is a detective, and the guy in tactical gear who escorted me into the station is also a detective. Despite how uncomfortable he must be, still in full gear, he’s stayed throughout the whole process.

It’s become evident that they aren’t part of the local police either, but federal, which means my father was into a lot more shit than I knew. My suspicions were correct.

“Yes,” I say curtly.

There is a knock on the door before either of them can say anything, and a cop in uniform enters, glancing at me with pity that has my jaw clenching. He steps up to the woman detective and leans down, talking quietly in her ear. She nods once and then turns to me as the guy leaves, closing the heavy door of the interrogation room behind him.

“While you have been here, we have managed to get hold of some people mentioned in your mother’s will. As your father didn’t seem to have one, we had to do some digging.”

My heart clenches. No, please, God, no. Please don’t say it.

“They were more than happy to take you in and get all your school transcripts transferred to their local one. We will have to keep your previous school’s name out of the records due to the nature of this case.”

Fuck, please, don’t say it; I silently beg again.

I can't go back there; I am broken, damaged. They won't want me anymore, and they are my happy place. I can pretend that they would still want me right now, but I’m not stupid enough to think that would actually be the case if they saw the kind of person I have grown into. I live in the dark, and I don’t completely hate it. In fact, sometimes, I crave it. I may have said that I want a boring, predictable life, but I have already realized it’s not for me. I know myself better than that. I wanted to escape my father, sure, but I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from the temptation of the darkness. The adrenalin and thrill of the fight would have tempted me away far too easily, and the temptation to use the darkness in me to protect those who still have their light would have become almost overwhelming.

I can't have my happy place taken away from me; I won't survive it.

“Rob and Jenny Parker are who your mother mentioned. In fact, there were quite a few people mentioned in her will, all of them from the same town. We had several officers contacting each of the people mentioned, and all of them wanted to take you in. As far as I am aware, they ended up discussing it amongst themselves, and Rob and Jenny worked out the best. Do you remember them?”

Fuck!

Of course, I remember them. How could I forget? They are Trick’s parents. They are sending me back to the only place I have ever really considered my home.

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