Page 54 of Race to Me

“Stop!” I scream, and the motion feels as if it rips my vocal cords. I’m unable to allow this to continue any further. I walk down the stairs carefully, still weak. Foster doesn’t look at me; he’s still looking at my father. His eyes are narrowed, and if my father’s words hurt him in any way, he doesn’t show it.

“Sky,” Foster says my name sweetly, still not looking at me. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I lie, but I really want him to take me away.

Dad cuts his harsh gaze to me, sneering. “Go to your room.”

I step forward a little. “Go to bed, Dad. Let me talk to him.” My tone is calm and respectful. By no means does it constitute the snide reply I get from him.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me, Skyler.” he snaps.

With every passing second, the rhythmic movement of Foster’s chest speeds up.

This is the first-time Dad’s ever spoken to me that way in front of anyone; he’s always been in fear of what his influential friends may think. What makes my blood boil is that he’s doing this because he thinks Foster isn’t important enough to censor himself.

Foster walks in the house, directly in front of my father, realization dawning on his face. “It wasn’t fucking Brett. It was you!” Before I can stop him, his fist collides on my father’s jaw.

Crack.

An all too familiar sound that makes me hug my body.

He staggers back, clenching onto his face. “You think you can get away with that?” Dad’s voice booms through the house. “I’m sure you don’t want the police called on you!”

“Do it. Call an ambulance while you’re at it,” Foster threatens, his bark venomous. “Or better yet, dial the fucking coroner.” With that, I tug on his hand, unable to control the tremble that overpowers my body. He cuts his sharp jaw towards me and his eyes instantly soften.

Mom rushes in the living room, wrapping a silk robe around herself.

Foster leans down, not talking in a whisper. “Go upstairs and get your things.”

My mother scoffs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “She will most certainly not get anything! You need to leave.” she states, completely unaware of the conversation and immediately siding with my father.

Foster shakes his head, a smile creeping up his face. He looks sinister. “Either the two of you step out of our way, or everyone in this fucked up neighborhood will know how you beat the fuck out of your daughter. Do you understand?”

They look to each other, wanting to tell him off but also noticing the obvious rage that’s building inside of him. Foster’s hand gently holds mine when they part, and he guides me up the stairs to my wing of the house.

The moment he shuts my door, he turns to me and holds my shoulders. “I’m very sorry if I freaked you out, okay?” Everything is happening so quickly; I almost feel as though I’m in shock. I nod, and he continues with a smooth, melodic voice. “Sit on the bed, and I’ll gather your things.”

I obey and curl my hands underneath my legs trying to figure out what went so wrong and how.

Then, my father’s voice echoes through the hall. I guess they don’t care about Foster’s threats. “I don’t give a shit! Who will the police believe? Me!” he yells to my mother.

Foster’s long legs stop in front of me, and I look up to him. He peels my fingers from the side of my face and the chaotic sounds grow louder. I didn’t even know I was clamping my hands over my ears to drown them out.

He bends down and places his headphones in my ears and presses a button on his phone. Music starts playing, but it isn’t loud enough.

“I’m sorry.” I tell him, unsure what else to say.

Even with everything crashing around us, the moment his eyes lock into mine, the world shifts into a safer place.A better place.

He plucks the headphones out, his obsidian eyes boring into me in every direction.

Down every dark corner I hide in.

He searches.

Ignoring the madness that surrounds us.

He looks around me, to me, through me.

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