Page 56 of Freestyle
“If I’m a monster, then so are you.”
Before I can say anything else, the door creaks open and his mom walks in. She pauses, taking in the scene before her. Horror is written across her face when she sees the game we are playing.
“What the hell is going on here?
“This isn’t what it looks like. I was just trying to help her learn to ride her pony,” he says, giving me a look that tells me not to say a word.
She yanks her son away from me. “You will never touch her again, Albert Mitchell! I’m calling the police.”
“Please, Mom, don’t!” he pleads. “I didn’t mean anything by it. We were just playing.”
“You know exactly what you were doing to that poor child. You’re thirteen years old, for fuck’s sake.” She drops her arm from Albie and rushes to me, a crumpled mess on the cold concrete floor.
“Sweetie, I’m going to take care of this. Are you hurt?” All I can do is nod as I look up to Albie’s angered face. “You’ve got marks on your neck!” His mother pulls me into her arms, my body shaking. She takes out her phone and a flurry of questions are asked, and I answer them the best I can. Some I don’t understand, and others make me extremely uncomfortable.
People begin swarming the place looking for Albie because he ran from the garage when his mother turned her back.
A whirlwind of chaos ensues, and I’m thrust into the middle of it.
“I’ll take her out and you can deal with him,” the social worker says.
“No, “ I cry out.
“It’s okay.It will only take a minute. Why don’t you show me your room?” the social worker asks, ushering me away.
“Where are you taking him?” I ask, a sob caught in my throat.
“He’s going to a special place, sweetie. A place where they’ll take good care of him and help him get better. It’s going to be okay.”
I watch through the window as they load him into the car, his arms and legs restrained.
That’s the last time I ever saw him. I was put in a new house the next day.
He was so angry when he was taken away.Is that what all of this is about? Does he blame me for what happened?Fear claws at my stomach, thinking of what this could mean.
I swore I would never be the victim again,but it’s that exactly where I’ve landed myself?
“Row, are you home?” Lynds calls from the door, softly knocking. My fear jumps into my throat until I realize it’s my roommate and not the nightmare that’s following me.
“Y-yeah, come in.” I take a shuddering breath, trying to reign in my fear so she doesn’t see it.
The door opens and Lynds steps inside, a bright burst of normalcy against the storm still lashing through my thoughts.
She has a half-eaten granola bar in one hand and a tote bag sliding off her shoulder. Her brows furrow the second she sees me.
“You okay?” she asks, voice gentler now. “You look like you’ve seen—” She stops herself. Smart girl. She’s learned not to finish that sentence around me. Lyndsy knows some of the scars from my past that still linger in my chest.
I force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Just tired.”
She doesn’t buy it, but she doesn’t push either. Instead, she crosses the room and drops her bag on my bed with a soft thud. The quiet stretches, just long enough to let my heartbeat slow, just long enough for the panic to shrink back into its corner.
But it doesn’t leave.
Because even with her here, even with the safety of familiar walls, the words won’t stop circling my head.
He was so angry when they took him.
He blames you.
