Phantom Thunder

Chapter 2

That evening, after Mrs. Stanton had tucked Laura and Michael into bed, she sat me down on the living room couch.

I didn't want to be here. I felt restless in my own skin. Itching to escape. I could barely hold myself still. My spine was tense, my fists clenched. I sat on the edge of the pillow, fight or flight kicking in. At this point, it felt like both instincts raged to come loose and consume me. I was agitated.

The Stantons sat down across from me. Mr. Stanton has a stern face, but kind eyes, surrounded by wrinkles from smiling. If I didn't know, I wouldn't be able to tell how old he was. He was in his early sixties, but I wasn't sure if he looked older or younger. Mrs. Stanton was slightly shorter, and a bit on the plump side. She had greying hair, bright eyes and a friendly smile.

"Mackenzie, you can't keep running away like that. The Law is getting tired of chasing you around. It needs to stop."

"Then send me back. Lock me up. I'm sure the Law would be fine with that." My voice was bitter. Bitter was all I knew. Bitter protected me.

"That's not the solution to this problem!" Mrs. Staton protested.
"Maybe it is."

"Mackenzie, we respect your freedom, but the social service division of the Law is there for you. For your safety and well being. We need to work together. Stop fighting them. Stop fighting us." Mr. Stanton's voice was gentle, but it did nothing to calm the tense mood. Anger still boiled inside me. But the rage was merely pain and fear in disguise. And to protect that weakness, I instinctively lashed out.

"Then stop trying to control me!" I didn't realize that I'd raised my voice. "Did any of you ever stop and think 'why did she run away time after time?' Maybe because she wanted to! Maybe I like life on the streets! So you can stop waisting everyone's time, energy and money, and just let me do what I want! And if I don't survive, than that's my problem!"

"Don't talk like that" Mrs. Stanton pleaded.

"You said it's for my own good. Chaining me down. But it's because of this foster system I'm stuck in that I keep running away. I'm trying to escape. So let me!" My voice was on the verge of breaking. The anger fed on my pain like a fire feeds on dry twigs. Exploding, fuelled by fear. I could feel my eyes filling with tears, but I refused to let them spill, even if the water could extinguish the wild fire.

Let the wild fire rage. It's simply your shield.

"It's because we care about you that we are doing this" Mrs. Stanton tried to convince me.

"If you cared about me, you let me go! It's my life! It should be my choice!"

"We understand things are hard for you. We're here to help."

"Out of all of the three of us, who has been inside my mind, felt my pain, lived my experiences? Me. You think I'd know what I need!"

"Mackenzie-"

I stood up abruptly from the couch.

"Don't try to control me with your words!"

"You're better than this!" Mrs. Stanton pleased.

I scooped up my boots from the shoe rack. I was almost to the door. "Maybe I'm not."

I turned and wrenched the door open. I refrained from slamming it, as much as I wanted to take my anger out on the house. Laura and Michael were asleep, and it wasn't fair to wake them just because I was angry. Angry at everything. Angry at the Stantons, who didn't understand I didn't want their help. Angry at the Law for caging me. Angry at the world for being such a cruel place. But underneath it all there was anger at myself, always running. The broken, unfixable orphan. The useless, selfish, scared, pain filled orphan, who hid it all behind a wall of angry fire. That fire was burning my world.