Those eyes.
They pierced my soul.
But not in the bad way. Looking down quickly, my eyes get a glimpse of his body. He seems to be approximately five foot eleven, and skinny. Too skinny. My eyes go back to my shoes, ignoring the feeling that he has something wrong with him.
Just because you're screwed up, doesn't mean he is. My conscious chastise me, and I know it's right. Just because he's in a foster home doesn't mean there's anything medically wrong with him.
"How old are you, Josh?" Lzzy asks flirtatiously, touching his arm.
"Um, I'll be eighteen in four months, in January." Joshua replies hesitantly, re-shouldering one of his duffel bags.
"Damn, you're closer to Camber's age then mine. Lucky bitch." I know she means it playfully, but everyone gets awkwardly silent.
"Well, uh, are you hungry Josh? I know the airplanes don't have very good food." Jerry tries to break the awkwardness, by bringing food into the conversation. So typical.
"Not really." He mumbles uncomfortably. That's weird. Most guys are always up for free food.
"Well, okay then. I guess we'll just head back to the house, and get you settled in. You can ride in my truck, if you want." Jerry offers, all to nice. Jerry is nice to everyone. If he ran into a serial killer on the streets, he would ask how his day was going before calling the police.
"Yeah, sure whatever works."
The drive home is awkward, with Josh and Jerry chatting amicably the whole way, while Channing and I are quiet in the backseat. We arrive home before Carol, due to the fact that she took the kids out to McDonald's.
We gather his stuff, or rather Channing and Jerry gather his stuff while Josh and I just stand there, unsure of what to do with ourselves.
They carry the bags in, and drop them onto the landing. His stuff will go up to my room later, or rather our room now. Over the past week, I was given the task of clearing half of the room, and just yesterday, his bed was put in.
"So, I guess we're going to be room ates." I shrug my shoulders, still not looking at him. I haven't looked at him since the airport. He makes me feel on edge, nervous.
"That's cool. I've never really had a room for myself. Or a proper bed for that matter." The last fact surprises me a little. Who hasn't ever had a proper bed, or even a mattress? Him, apparently.
Something in my stance must've given away my curiosity, because he keeps on talking.
"Yeah, well I lived with my uncle since the age of two, and he, um, he abused me, and didn't really take care of me. I fended for myself basically until I was 12, and social services found out. I've been in shitty foster homes ever since."
Wow.
More than I've been through.
I can't believe he's still standing.
Still strong.
But I can't help the feeling that there's something more behind his back story.
I don't know what it is.
But I will find out.
*Sorry this chapter is shorter, it's more of a filler one, but I hoped you liked it all the same! The song on the side is awesome :3 I listened to it three times typing this
TheNowhereKid
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'...
