Page 28 of The Prodigal

I’m not the same person Congressman Tooney raised and paraded in front of the cameras. I’m not that weak little boy anymore.

I’m not hisson.

Congressman Albrecht taught me the game of politics.

And I remember it well.

No one escapes punishment.

Eden may not know the monster she came from, but I do.

I am his end.

And this moment is the beginning of mine.

I’m not the hero in my story.

I am the villain.

Eden

Ihaven’t seen Remington all day.

Not that that isn’t a normal occurrence, but I don’t know. I thought maybe after last night we would… maybe… at least say good morning to each other.

But that’s not what happened.

Remington left just as I was clocking out and telling Bill about the broken frame and the upset customer we had overnight. I feel bad about lying to the man who gave me a job and doesn’t mind if I crash in one of the empty rooms every now and again, when I’m too tired to drive back to the dorms, but I thought if Bill knew that the unruly customer was my stepfather, he might fire me, and I can’t have that. I need this job more than anything. I might have a loan that pays my tuition, but it doesn’t pay for everything. More importantly, though, this job allows me to stash away the money I need in case Gerald’s threats turn into something more substantial.

I wasn’t lying when I told Remington my mom is up for parole. Like Gerald, she isn’t my biggest fan. Worse, she blames me for her being in prison in the first place. My testimony, apparently, had the biggest influence on the judge. The bad thing is, I can’t even remember what I said. I don’t remember a lot from that time in my life, only that a man broke the window of the car and pulled me out.

After that, it was a whirlwind of bouncing around from foster home to foster home. I barely remember the trial, but I do remember staring at my mother as she sat at the table with her lawyer. There were no tears, not like the defendants I see in my crime shows. She didn’t even try to fake remorse. She simply stared me down like I was a stranger.

She blamed me for my father leaving when she was pregnant.

Although she never spoke of him, she never let me forget that I was the reason he left. He didn’t want me, and clearly, neither did she. What she thought would result in a happily ever after, left her broke and alone. She never wanted to be a mother, and when she met Gerald, she thought she had found a way out.

I’ve never had a family.

I’m used to taking care of myself.

So, Remington helping, by simply standing up for me, stirs a new emotion inside me. I owe him a thank-you or at least a good morning.

But since it’s late in the afternoon, and I didn’t see him at school or in the cafeteria, I took it upon myself to do the world a favor and get the man some food. If I’ve learned anything from my time with Remington, it’s that he is a lot more temperamental when he’s hungry.

I rap my fist against the door, but he doesn’t answer.

Again, that’s not unusual. Calling him works the same way. He likes to play hard to get.

“I know you’re in there,” I say loudly. “Your car is here.”

I might have been a little stalker-y today.

“I have all night to knock on this door. You might as well open it.”

I bang again.

“Don’t make me resort to calling. You know I will. I have a twelve-hour shift with nothing better to do but dial your number over and over.”

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