Page 95 of Major Penalty

“One day, she left our little apartment and just…didn’t come back.” My voice cracks slightly, but I press through. “I don’t remember how long it was. Time didn’t mean anything back then. But I know by the third time I woke up, my stomach felt like it was eating itself. I was so fucking hungry.”

My throat tightens.

“I ended up digging through the trash. Found some apple rinds that were brown and rotten and ate them anyway.”

I close my eyes. That memory still feels like it’s stitched to my skin. Every time I’m hungry, even now, I remember thattaste.

Her plate is untouched, and her body is turned toward me in her chair like nothing else matters. I close my eyes for a second. It takes everything in me not to let that memory drag me under.

That’s when I feel her hands. Both of them wrap around my left hand, gentle but firm, grounding.

I open my eyes. She’s still looking at me. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t push or rush me. She just waits.

I swallow hard, squeeze her hands back, and keep going.

“After that, things get fuzzy. I remember strangers walking into the house and taking me away. I was crying and so fucking scared. I didn’t know where they were taking me. I just wanted to wait for her to come back.”

I clench my jaw hard.

“They put me in a house with other kids. Told me I’d be living there from now on. I kept thinking my mom was going to show up any minute and ask where I was. That she’d come find me.”

I glance down at our joined hands.

“She didn’t.”

The silence stretches, but she’s still there. Still holding on.

“I found out later,” I say, my voice hollow, “that she didn’t go far. Just went to a friend’s house to get high again. And while she was out getting fucked up…she forgot I existed.”

Irene’s eyes glisten, her face stricken.

I push on.

“They put me in a group home first. Bunk beds. Cold food. Other kids with worse scars. I didn’t understand why I was there. All I knew was…I wasn’t wanted.”

I glance down and force a breath through the lump in my throat.

“I grew up in the system. Got passed around from one foster home to another. The first time someone said a family wanted me, I was…happy.”

I laugh under my breath. It’s bitter and cold.

“I packed the little suitcase they gave me, wore my best clothes, and smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. I said please and thank you. I ate all my food. I just wanted them to like me and keep me. I tried so hard to be good.”

I swallow again. My chest tightens like it’s being crushed from the inside.

“But after a while…they sent me back.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t interrupt. She just keeps holding my hand like it’s keepingmefrom falling apart.

“I thought I did something wrong. I was heartbroken.” I pause again, the memory slamming into me like a wave. “A man used to visit the orphanage every two weeks. Played sports with us, made me laugh. Gave me something to look forward to.”

My voice drops.

“Then one day, he didn’t come back either.”

Irene lets out a tiny breath, almost like a sob she’s holding back for me.

“The second family came. I smiled. Ate my food. Played with their kids. They sent me back after two months.”

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