PROPERTY OF A. KENDRICK

Entry 68

November 24, Early

I woke with an awful feeling in my gut. Looking at the clock, I saw it was only 2am. I heard shouting coming from another part of the house, so I went to investigate.

"Out! Go out already!" Then splashing.

A sick shock went through me, and then I was standing in the bathroom. My mind took barely a second to register the scene—that woman kneeling next to the tub, thrashing feet and flailing arms, water everywhere—before I was pulling her off him, hauling him up out of the frigid water.

Liota coughed and vomited up water. I wrapped him in a towel and cradled him to me.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" I screamed at the woman who was pulling herself up from the ground. She held her hand to the side of her head and staggered toward us.

"Helping... my baby." She reached toward me with a sickeningly tender look on her face, and I slapped her hand away. She looked at me with confusion on her face and I just wanted to punch it away.

"Get out." When she made no move to follow my command, I got up and left myself, carrying Liota with me and slamming the door behind me. It sounded like something broke, but I didn't turn to look. I went to Liota's room to grab some dry clothes, and carried him with me since he wouldn't let go. He buried his face in my neck, his skinny arms wrapped so tightly around me that I had a little trouble breathing. But I didn't say anything.

We were both silent as I dried him off and dressed him in warm clothes. He didn't move at all, and his expression was vacant, like he'd shut all of himself up behind his eyes and left me with only the body.

Me, on the other hand—my hands were shaking so much I could barely hold the towel. Adrenaline coursed through me. I twisted the towel in my hands, trying to vent my anger on something other than the walls that had already borne so much of it.

The towel ripped. I stared at it, panic mixing with anger.

My mother had just tried to kill my little brother.

But I didn't have time to panic. So I pushed all of my emotions to the back of my mind, leaving only rational thought to deal with what was in front of me.

"Stay here," I told Liota on the bed. He didn't give any indication whatsoever that he'd heard me. I crept back out of my room, closing the door carefully behind me. The woman was now passed out on the floor in the bathroom, so I had my chance. I got the phone and brought it back to my bedroom.

My finger hovered over the "9" button. I didn't know what to do.

It was clear that Liota couldn't stay here anymore. He would be in constant danger, and on top of that, he still wouldn't be able to go to school. If I called the authorities, I'd likely have to leave as well, and that would mean leaving Vinni and Henry and my whole familiar life behind. Not to mention, with Liota's luck, he'd end up with the meanest, nastiest foster parent of the bunch, one who wouldn't give him any chance to get away.

Another number came to mind, one that I hadn't thought of for several months. But it was worth a shot.

I dialed the numbers from memory, waiting with a pounding heart as it rang. It was two in the morning, but that only helped our cause. If he was upset we'd woken him, then he wasn't a good person to turn to anyway.

The phone rang out and I hung up immediately. But I couldn't let just one try determine Liota's future. He was old, after all. Maybe he couldn't get to the phone right away. So I called again.

After two rings, he picked up.

I almost hung up again.

"Hello?" Said the voice on the other end. I was surprised to find that it wasn't gruff or scary. It sounded kind.