Page 18 of We Are Yours
* * *
Everything changed so fast.
Overnight, my world turned upside down.
All because of the girl with cinnamon-colored freckles and bright red hair.
She’d been living at our house for the past month, leaving behind whatever shitty life she’d become accustomed to. It was crazy the things she wasn’t used to. Simple stuff like having her favorite drinks in the fridge or the snacks she seemed to enjoy in the pantry. Her eyes would light up every time she found something new. It was only after I insisted that she could eat whatever she wanted.
When I asked her for a list of her favorite foods and drinks, I quickly realized she was easy to please. Her list consisted of only three things: water, crackers, and peanut butter.
All cheap.
All filling.
No fuss to cook.
Which came in handy when you didn’t know where you’d be getting your next meal.
Those little things made me feel crazy, as if I already knew so much about her without her having to say a word to me. She still hadn’t spoken. The last thing I wanted to do was push her until she was ready, unlike Kraven.
Any chance he got, he’d openly show his disdain for her. He was never one to hold back, and she seemed to bring out the worst in him, or maybe he was just trying to piss me off and was well aware he could do it through acting out.
He was skipping school again. When he did happen to show up, he was acting up in class and getting detention for talking back. He was staying out until all hours of the night and not telling me where he’d be or who he was with. As it was, he barely answered my texts. Constantly throwing out that I wasn’t his parent, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.
If it wasn’t for me dragging him to perform on the streets a few nights a week, I wouldn’t see him at all, and that was always the first sign he was up to no good. I was exhausted and barely sleeping, so that didn’t help.
Now, with another mouth to feed, I had to work extra hours. Not to mention, the property taxes were due, and I was late on the mortgage. I was working overtime, and something had to give before I stumbled flat on my face.
I resorted to what I’d always done to survive in moments like these, completely hating myself in the process.
Luckily, one less thing to worry about was that she was enrolled in an online program for school and only left the house to use the computer at the library for her classes. Kraven had been on my ass to let him join one for the last two years, but he didn’t have the discipline she did. I joined her one afternoon, immediately noticing her 3.9 GPA on the screen. I wasn’t surprised in the least that she was smart.
Thankfully, the cops hadn’t come looking for her. Nobody had. Every day that went by didn’t lessen the anxiety and worry I still felt for her. Especially when I only knew her first name. It was the only thing she had shared with me.
I even kept the piece of paper on which she wrote it. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I guess you could say I was a sentimental schmuck like that. And from our family photos she unexpectedly found in the kitchen drawer that evening, it simply proved my point.
Turning left at the light on my street bike, I remembered it as if it were yesterday and not three weeks ago.
“Whoa!” I jolted, chuckling as she came up behind me. “I’m going to need to put a bell on you or something. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”
She hid back a shy smile I’d gotten used to as her cheeks lightly flushed with the prettiest shade of pink, mixed with a bit of red that crept on her nose, enticing me with those damn cinnamon-colored freckles of hers.
Despite her vibrant, copper-red hair and striking green eyes, they were the only bursts of color against her pale skin. She was always dressed in black or gray clothing, with dark eye makeup accentuating her vivid, intense gaze.
You could definitely see her from a mile away; her gothic appearance was such a stark contrast to her delicate, natural features, making it hard to look away. Which was interesting, considering she didn’t notice the effect she had on people. How she’d govern a room by simply walking into it. All eyes would gravitate toward her. Her presence was electric, charging the air around me when I was near her, but maybe it was because it was the only part of her I had since I still hadn’t heard her speak.
Nodding to the drawer next to her, I asked, “Can you get me a pen?” I needed to pay some more bills.
She reached for the drawer, opening it at the same time that I exclaimed, “No! Not that?—”
It was too late.
She opened it.
There, in front of our eyes, was our past. A past I could no longer hide.
The pictures were from before our mother left. They were all scattered around in the drawer. However, the one I focused on was from the last Christmas we spent together. My parents stared proudly into the camera as they held us in their arms.
