Craving Ava

8.2 - Reasons Why

Ava

Panic.

The only thing I felt when Easton asked me to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family. Not because I didn't want to meet them, but because I didn't want to leave mine.

It was way too soon to talk about the things that tormented us. He shouldn't have to hear about this right now, but he deserved to know the reason.

"Ava." He called for me, pulling me from my thoughts. I had been silent for a while, staring at our hands, trying to find the words.

"Sorry." I said, sighing. "It's not exactly easy to talk about."

"I know." His finger traced reassuring circles in my palms. "But you can tell me anything."

I nodded and breathed in, counted to four, and exhaled slowly. I kept staring at our hands.

"I never met my father. He left my mom when he found out she was pregnant with me." I paused, adding. "I think I look like him. My mom is a brunette." A bitter chuckle escaped my lips.

He nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"She was only sixteen when she had me. Her parents kicked her out when they found out. For the first few months, she bounced around her friends' houses, but their parents got tired of hearing a baby cry very quickly. Eventually, she resorted to find older guys who let her crash in return for... favors." The last word came out as a whisper.

"When I was two, she found a boyfriend. He was very... Fond of me." A rogue tear fell from my eyes. "A few years later they were still living together, but he got fired from his job. So, my mom had to pick up extra shifts in the restaurant she was working at. That meant that he spent his days looking after me." I gulped. "About a year later my mom got fired, so she went home earlier than expected and found him on top of me." I felt his hand instantly close into a fist. I clenched it with both hands. "Turns out, he had a thing for little girls." More tears fell out.

"Did he -" I didn't let him finish. "No! Thankfully. He was, as he called it, teaching me how to kiss. But I felt his... thing on me the whole time. Luckily it didn't go past that, but looking back I'm sure it was coming."

He relaxed his hand a little, but it was still closed.

"Anyway, my mom grabbed me and tried to leave, but he didn't want to let her. He beat her up so hard, her right eye was closed off for months. But she managed to fight him off and ran away with me. All we had on us were the clothes on our backs." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "That's when we started sleeping on the street. Usually on the benches in the subway."

I was sobbing, but I managed to keep my voice steady.

"My mom would... sell herself, but the money she got was only enough to eat. We'd wash ourselves in public bathrooms, but our clothes were always filthy. She searched around for shelters, but they were all full. We lived like that for a year." I took a long breath before continuing. "Eventually she found a woman's shelter that accepted kids, and they took us in. We had to share a sleeping bag in a warehouse for a while, but it was the break we needed. We had food, a place to rest, a bathroom where we could shower. I remember being so happy, but so scared of having it taken away from me."

He finally relaxed his hand and held one of mine, gently caressing it with his fingers. I breathed in and looked at him. He used his other hand to wipe my tears away.

"There were other kids in the shelter. Most were abandoned there, which was the case of Tyler and Sydney. The shelter kept the kids for a while in case family wanted to claim them. We were the same age, and we became inseparable. Once my mom started working again, I hung out with them all day. We were enrolled in the same school and demanded to be in the same class. Eventually they were moved to foster homes, but we always had school."