On Our Own

Chapter 8

I finally made it home and snuck inside, hoping that everyone was asleep. I walked right into the kitchen where Monica and Jess were clearly waiting for me.

"Where have you been?" Jess asked as soon as she saw me. Just from her voice I could tell she was trying to stay calm but was actually furious.

"Out," I mumbled.

"When I specifically told you that you were not allowed to go out anymore?"

"Technically you told me that I couldn't drive anywhere," I corrected.

Jess did not look happy.

"What? It was to see Carter, how is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"Because Leah, I specifically told you not to do something and you did it," Jess argued.

"For Carter," I emphasized. "Does he not matter to you anymore?"

"Carter is a sweet kid, but assuming he doesn't get arrested he will be sent to another foster home."

"What? Are you guys crazy?" I protested. "You can't do that, he's family!"

"Leah," Monica sighed. "We have toddlers living here, it just isn't safe. We can't take him back, okay? Our hands are tied."

"It's not safe?" I asked in a mocking tone. "Is it because he's black?"

"Of course not," Monica said immediately.

"Careful, Leah," Jess said in a warning tone.

I glared at her.

"Leah we don't want you talking to Carter anymore."

"You can't tell me what to do," I fought back.

"Under our roof we can, you're still our responsibility," Jess said angrily.

"This is so unfair," I complained.

"Stop acting like a child," Jess said.

"I am not, I am an adult," I replied angrily.

"Act like one!" Jess yelled back.

I glared at her. I furiously stormed away, past all the people who had been listening in from the hall, and to my room. After locking the door, I went up into the top bunk and cried. I cried and cried and cried.

This was so unfair. I was old enough to drive, work, and watch the kids, yet somehow I was not old enough to make my own decisions. Why did Jess have to treat me like a child? At least Monica treated me like a teenager.

When I finally stopped crying, I got up and looked in the mirror on the back of my door. My face had tear streaks running down it. My damned blue eyes were telling me to fall back into old habits. I had to get it together.

I quietly started to clean my room, it was therapeutic, it gave my hands something to do while my brain exploded. I folded the laundry that had been sitting in a basket for over a week, I put my shoes in the closet, I organized the random assortment of things on the bottom bunk.

After my entire room was organized, I sat down on the bottom bunk which was now completely clean. I never had blankets or pillows on this bunk, it was basically used as a couch. I continued to lay there, wondering where everything went wrong.

I felt horrible, after looking around at my small, clean room, I started crying again. I don't even know why. It wasn't the sobbing kind of crying either. I was just sad, sad that I was stuck in this situation, sad I couldn't help Carter, sad I couldn't figure my life out, sad that I was sad.

I checked the clock and noticed it was almost two in the morning. I realized I really needed to sleep. I put in my earbuds and I turned on Arctic Monkeys with the volume all the way up. I decided if the music was loud enough, it wouldn't let my brain work and eventually I would just fall asleep. Thankfully it worked, but soon I woke up to someone banging on my door. I groaned and checked my phone, it was seven in the morning.