Take Me Home

The Sentence

  I had to borrow one of Cody's suits for the hearing. He had a few he could spare, since we were very close to the same size. With our lean, tall and thin structure, both of us looked a lot alike, except for the different hairstyles and colour. His hair was more of a chestnut brown, as it curled and swooped behind his ears a bit, and mine was rather golden blonde as it was rather straight as my bangs hung to the side of my face, which would force me to keep swooping my fingers through to make it not fall into my eyes. I did that rather often: I would run my fingers through the sides of my smooth hair, causing it to stay somewhat away from my face, but only for a little while.

Cody had about three different suits, which I really didn't understand why. He never seemed to wear them, as far as I could tell. He never went out somewhere that required a suit, so why did he have so many? Our father didn't even have that many, only one.

  Cody's reasoning was that something might come up, in which he needed a certain suit, in a certain colour. I didn't get it, but I also didn't feel like questioning it, so I let it go. My parents and I were supposed to get a suit for myself the week earlier, however we sort of forgot about the hearing coming up. Our minds were already set for the future, as we only thought about that damn trial.

  The hearing was scheduled a week after we had our visit with Bolton, my lawyer. However, I didn't have to talk during it. All my family and I had to do was show up, and listen to the pleading Martins had excepted and took on; guilty or not guilty. And what it sounded like, he was sticking to his not guilty plea, which angered me something huge.

  He was most certainly not innocent. He was guilty, guilty of a whole lot of things. Guilty of stealing me. Taking my childhood away. Ripping it away from a small child. Guilty of stealing a small child away from his family. Guilty of putting that child through so much pain, as he kept him for years in captivity, watching him grow and abusing him more. Guilty of putting my family through so much pain as well. And my friends. Guilty of ruining a life. More than one.

  Guilty of trying to do the same to another boy, however that was cut short as someone came along, the first boy who had been captured by him: me. And I had learned, the tiniest bit through these past few months, to be proud of myself for doing that. Proud of myself for helping Joey. For helping him escape, and for standing up to Martins when I saw something happening that was bad. Terrible. I did not take it, I couldn't just sit there and watch. That was just not possible in my mind, and I did something about it. Something others were proud of me for as well, especially Joey's parents themselves.

  A few weeks after Joey and I returned, his family had showed up to our door steps, and they handed me a check. It was the check, the reward for Joey's safe return home. The one that had been posted on all those missing posters they managed to make during those two days he was gone. I didn't realize how fast they came up with that award. Apparently they had come up with it the day after Joey went missing, something I didn't realize. I didn't even know there was an award, not until Joey, his two parents and his sister knocked on our door one afternoon, and handed me that check as his mom and dad had beaming faces, and shook my hand with honour and joy.

"I don't know how we can thank you enough for what you did," I remember his dad had spoken to me that day, as my family had gathered around behind me, sort of shocked at first, but then their face turned more warm, as my mom kept her hands on my shoulders, and leaned her face on top of them. And my parents faces beamed as well with those lightning smiles, and the joy of seeing the other little boy I rescued.

"Yes. I.....I can't think of any other words to say to you, other than thank you. Thank you for bringing Joey home to us. Thank you for being so brave, and fighting for him and saving him. You are truly a hero, you know that right Eric?" His mother has said to me next, as she remained holding onto Joey, who was standing right in front of her. I looked down at the little boy, who's hair had darkened from that light blonde he once had dyed, as he looked up at me as well, with a sort of smile. I didn't say anything back to her, I only gave them a slight smile, almost like that spoke for itself, as I meant to say 'thank you' as well. Thank you for the check, and for the nice words.