Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

31. Coming to Light

I apologize in advance for any kind of emotional trauma this chapter may cause, but it's something that happens more often than we think, and I'm not writing this novel merely for the sake of writing. This novel is meant to tell someone's story, tell the truths that many teenagers live on a daily basis. Abuse is a real thing. Alcoholism and addiction are real issues. And I'm not going to butter them up.

That said, I made the choice to use TMK as a platform for young people around the world, where we can see the daily impact of global issues, hence Elliott's PTSD when it comes to the conflict in Syria (which btw, just hit 6 years. Tell me you see how messed up that is.) and Ryder's relationship with his mom and dad. I'm going to tell their stories, raw and uncut.

Because our silence equals our acceptance of the crap that's affecting all of us.

Hope you guys can understand.

-Mack.

"Wait a minute," said Will, a bottle of water in his hand. "Lemme get this straight. You mean to tell me that Charlotte wants you to sign up for some kind of counselling?"

Ryder huffed in frustration. It was the fifth time in the space of two hours that he'd had to explain his situation, and he was tired of repeating himself.

"That's what he said," commented Felicity.

"Solamente un mil veces," muttered Ryder under his breath. His aunt narrowed her eyes as she leaned back in the centre of the sofa, Dorothy on her left and their mother on her right.

The Tulesa-Joseph clan had took it upon themselves to call some sort of emergency family council to help decide Ryder's fate- well, at least as far as his job was concerned. It wasn't exactly an interrogation, but it sure felt like it.

"What kind of counselling?" Dorothy probed. "Are we talking sit-down one-on-one talks, or some kind of positive behavioural therapy?"

"It's anger management, Dorothy." Felicity filled in. "Charlotte's under the impression that Ryder here can't keep his moods in check."

His grandmother snorted.

"What?" Ryder asked defensively.

Miss Tulesa just shook her head. "Charlotte's right," she commented. "You're a ticking time bomb, and I'd rather not have you in this house when you blow up."

"Mom!"

"Alright, that's out of line, Mom-"

"Screw this," spat Ryder, standing up. "Screw all of this."

He made for the door when Jonathan shoved him in the chest, pushing him backwards. "You're not going anywhere."

"Did you just shove me?"

"Calm down, kid," said his usually quiet uncle firmly.

"Why did you touch me?!" demanded Ryder, shoving Jon back so he was against the wall. "Don't f*cking shove me, you freak. Don't you put your f*cking hands on me."

Uh oh, thought Felicity. Ryder was already on a short fuse. Now he was pissed, and things had the potential to get very, very ugly.

"Ryder, step away from your uncle. Now."

"Calláte."

Dorothy stood up, determined to stop this before it got physical.

"Ry, I need you to calm down," she said gently.

"I told you not to call me that," he shot back viciously. "I f*cking told you not to call me that!"

"Can you just step back for me, Ryder?" asked Felicity, trying a different approach. "Just a couple steps, I promise."