A Lover To Him

Chapter Twenty-eight, He found me

October 20th, seven years ago

Caine Williams, Seventeen years old at the time

"I'm going out, I'm not sure when I'll be home," I said, peeking my head around the corner of the door of the living room, looking at Jessie and Lucas. Jessie looks up from her magazine, smiling softly as she nods at me. Lucas didn't pay attention to what I said, too focused on the latest news on the tv. 

"Don't come home too late," Jessie says before shifting her attention back to her magazine. She always said the same thing whenever I went out after dinner, but we both knew that I would do what I was told. I would end up coming home late, reaching my bed around three in the morning. It sort of became a habit, but Jessie nor Lucas cared to give me a speech about it. They always went with the same saying, a woman in the evening, a woman in the morning. Afterward, they would joke that it also applied to men. 

I could hear Willow and Sadie scream upstairs, scared by some horror movie they were watching. I knew they would end up getting no sleep tonight, too scared of the dark by the movie to close an eye. Yet, the nightmares and sleepless nights never got them to stop watching those movies together, and sometimes, I thought they actually liked to be scared at night because they saw some scary movie hours before. 

I remembered the day I met them like yesterday, it's almost two years ago today. I had decided to live with Jessie and Lucas, and I had just arrived with all of my things when two dashing energetic girls ran through the hallway, screaming at each other about a piece of clothing Willow stole from Sadie or the other way around. Having the exact same size always made sure to cause a fight between those two. Even when they both had a closet filled with so many clothes it almost didn't fit anymore. No wonder all their clothes were scattered around their bedrooms, lying in every other place except for their closet. 

Even though I loved this, having a loving, amazing family around me, caring for me like I was their actual family instead of a stranger, I had to get out of this house. I had to get away from the loving family, only for a little bit. I could feel it creep inside me at times, wanting to be released at any cost. It was something I have never known before, but now, never actually left me. It was silenced when I released it, but it wasn't gone. I had stopped trying to get rid of it a long time ago, nothing seemed to work. 

There was nothing wrong at home, my new home. The Collins had taken me into their home and welcomed me with open arms. I was grateful I had gotten a chance to get away from foster care, living with people who actually cared for me. I felt at home with them, a feeling I thought I had lost forever when my dad passed, but there it was, that feeling of being at home. I knew they would never replace my dad, they couldn't, but they were becoming my new family. I had gotten a chance at a second family, and I had taken it with both hands. 

Oh, they weren't the problem. 

 They weren't the reason behind all the frustration. There was something else that caused my frustration and anger that crept under my skin like a monster, screaming to be released. I knew the cause of those feelings was bottled deep inside of me. I was angry at the world, frustrated at how unfair life could be. My dad was healthy, and yet, he had passed away. 

Some would say that I had not coped with my father's passing, bottling all the sadness and grief deep inside of me to make sure I didn't feel it, and then, I turned all the sadness and grief into anger because it was the only emotion I could easily express. I had learned a long time ago that it was easier to be angry than to feel sad and helpless. So, every time I felt something I couldn't comprehend or express I turned it into anger and frustration. 

It was like a switch inside of me, I turned it on to feel nothing except for anger. I turned it on to become cold and unreadable, it was a favor that I could turn on the switch. I was used to feeling either nothing at all or only such an anger that I could explode at any minute, like a ticking time bomb filled with anger and violence. Sometimes, it even scared me to see how much anger I held, but I couldn't get it to go away without releasing it.