Pulling into the gravel driveway of our old, victorian style home, Carol decides to drop a bomb on me.
"Camber, you know how Jerry and I have been looking into adopting another kid. Well, we found one. He's moving in next week, and due to lack of space, we would like it if you would share your room with him." I know Carol means well, deep down in her overstretched heart, but right now, in the heat of the moment, I can't see that. My brown eyes grow wide, and I have to wipe my palms on my jeans repeatedly to get them to stop sweating. Without having to talk, Carol gets the message.
"Oh please, Camber. He can't stay with Bex because we don't know what gender she will chose. Ivori and Mckenna are already sharing a room, along with Arejay and Channing. I don't want to put him with Lzzy because you know her, you know how she is, that she'll screw anybody she can get her hands on, guy or girl. That leaves you, Camber. You don't have to be welcoming, just let him sleep in there for right now." She tries pleading with me, but all that I can think of is this guy taking advantage of me in the middle of the night, when I'm vulnerable. I give a jerky nod, and she sighs. Again. Damn lady got a breathing problem?
"If you share a room with him, I won't schedule a therapy session, and I won't take you to any more doctors about your problem." She's got to be desperate by now. Carol loves fixing people. She views Bex and I as her charity cases becasue we are 'different.' For Carol to give that up, and let me stay broken, is a huge step for her. In the three years I've been living with Jery and her, I've been to about 15 different doctors, six therapists, and two psych wards. It'd be nice for her to leave me alone for once. Giving up, I shake my head, my hood falling off in the process.
"Oh, honey, thank you so much!." Without thinking, she reaches over to hug me, and I narrowly avoid her by stumbling out of the car, and running up the front porch steps, where Jerry is standing, arms crossed, leaning casually against the railing. I like Jerry-he gets it. He gets that you can't change me, that I'm broken beyond repair.
"Hey kiddo, how was doctor what's-his-name?" A grin is playing along the corner of his lips. Despite myself, I give him a close-mouthed smile, along with a roll of my eyes. His grin is there now, probably because he knows he's one of the only people that's ever seen me smile.
"That bad? Hey I'm sorry about them though. But you can't change Carol. That lady is crazy, she defies human law y'know. But I guess I love her, crazy and all." His smile is genuine, causing his eyes to wrinkle. I hope, one day, in the future, that I can say that about my spouse. But I doubt it. Who would want someone you can't even touch without her freaking?
"Our houseguest will be moving in in two weeks. You have the biggest room. It makes sense. Don't worry about it. I'll make sure he doesn't mess with you." Jerry pats my shoulder assuringly, making sure his touch doesn't linger. I allow Jerry to touch me, I don't freak with him. He's like a big teddy bear. It's impossible to hate him.
Walking past him, and into the house, I'm greeted by the awful smell of burning water. I didn't even think it was possible to burn water, until I met Lzzy, possibly the worst cook ever. Sadly, I'm not exaagirating.
Not bothering to check on what she was trying to cook, I head up the stairs, wanting to reach my room before anybody asks me to do something.
Bex's door is closed, a Do Not Enter sign on the knob. Knowing her, she was probably doing science expirements, that border evil genius.
I reach my room peacefully, and close the door behind me. Everything is where I left it, which is a good sign. Going to lay on my bed, I grab my iPod out of its dock, and slip the earbuds in. The first song that plays is I Write Sins, Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco; one of my favorite songs.
As I let Brendon's sexy voice take me to another world, I pull out my laptop that I keep hidden from my foster siblings. Logging on, I search what I always search. Convicted Sex Offenders.
Scrolling through mugshots of thousands of sex offenders around the world. Not once, out of all of those photos, do I see the person I'm looking for. Not once do I see those eyes. Those eyes that haunt me at night. Those eyes that I draw. Those eyes. Those cold, heartless, souless eyes.
As long as I don't see those eyes, I know that he is on the loose, that he could come and get me at any moment.. And that's what terrifies me most in the midst of the night, when I'm left alone with my thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Silently Screaming
Teen Fiction"So that brings me back to the dream. I was there again, but this time, I was him. Beating some little kid, wasted out of my mind. I think the dream has to do with when I came home from that party, drunk. It scared the hell out of me, Camber. I don'...
