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08: Why I Run

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08: Why I Run

His voice sounded so genuine, I almost flinched. His first priority.

I felt honored.

And guilty. But I focused more on the honor. "I..." I began to speak, but I realized I didn't have anything to say. He'd presented me with a valid reason, and stupid me had told him that was all he needed to know more about my life.

R.I.P. Idiot of the century, you will be missed.

Or kidnapped. It was whatever.

Letting out a reluctant breath, I began cautiously, "You have to know what you're going to find out with this, Emmett." He shrugged impatiently. "I'm not kidding. This isn't some lalaloopsy little 'I once accidentally broke someone's nail' crap. You're getting yourself into stuff."

"I don't care," he stated stubbornly. "I want to know what's going on with you. I told you, best friend you could ever have had. I can't be that until you let me know what's happening in your life," he said.

Biting my lip, I nodded and gestured to the courtyard. "Let's go in there so we can sit on something that's not the ground." He nodded and let me into the luscious gardens with the tables sitting under a canopy of leaves.

Once we were seated and he was looking at me expectantly, I took in a breath and said, "Ask away."

"Why don't you want to be known?" he asked immediately, as if he'd planned his questions.

He probably had.

"Because it's dangerous. Besides, it would make it hard to leave if people knew me. Without being known, no disturbance is caused when I move away. If I have to, that is," I explained simply.

"Why would you have to leave?" he asked.

"That answer comes with a bigger story," I rejected.

"You said anything," he pressed.

"No, I said you could know more about me," I corrected. "I didn't say I'd give you my life's story."

He let out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Why do you have such a hatred for being in the foster care system?"

I sucked in a breath, having known this would be asked yet still unprepared for the moment. "I..." Biting my lip, I began from the beginning. "There was one man who took in foster children. At one point, I was the only one. I was around fifteen or sixteen.

"He had one kid already, that was his. We were never friends, but we got along okay. She was thirteen."

"Was," he repeated unsurely, as if he was realizing how big this was.

"Right," I said. "His name was Pete or something. I don't even remember. I had to call him Mr. Walsh. He got really mad because he only let his daughter call him dad."

Emmett's eyes flashed with sadness slightly, but I continued before he could say something. "Long story short, Mr. Walsh is after me. He's searching so hard. He's relentless," I said.

My cheeks were slightly wet as I thought about what had happened. "Why is he after you?" Emmett asked, his voice slightly upset.

"I don't want to talk about it. Anything else?" I asked, quickly wiping the moisture off my face.

"What places can you not go?" he asked.

"I can't go to Pennsylvania," I said automatically. "That's why I'm scared to go to UPenn." He seemed to automatically understand and I continued, "I can't go to Ohio. That's where I lived with him. I can't go in Indiana or a few places in Kentucky. I just avoid that one all together."