T R A P P E D

Chapter 8

We don't talk the whole way back. Not even the lady tries to fill our silence with words of comfort. We were exposed. We are broken.

I don't look back when the HoverBus gets to my stop. But if I had I would have seen Will wave me goodbye. His pained face forced into a weak smile, staying strong for me. I would have seen the tear drip down his face when I was safe at home. I would have seen his insecurities. But I didn't.

Mother rushes to the door when I walk inside. "I'm so so sorry about our disagreement honey, I love you so much! Are you ok? You aren't hurt are you? I can't believe that happened, there's been no attacks in years!" All I can say is "I know."
"Do you need anything?"
I shake my head gently but not in response to her caring words. I want to shake the thoughts out of my damaged brain. I want to erase the painful memories etched clearly in permanent marker across my mind. So much blood.

I clutch the banister, turning my knuckles white. It feels solid, stable. I wish I felt the same way: secure and steady. But really, I could topple over from the impact of a feather- I'm pretty shaken up. Father looks down at me from the top of the stairs and stops himself from saying something. No more secrets. "What aren't you telling me? Mother, father? Please." They exchange a look before nodding in solemn agreement. "We really need to tell you something."
"And that is...?"
"I think you should sit down, let's go to the kitchen."
They walk through the hallway and take a seat at the kitchen table. "You- you're not- you aren't our child."
"What? What are you on about of course I'm your child!"
"No, honey, just listen. We adopted you."
"I'm adopted? But why? It's so rare to be adopted!"
"I know." My father soothes.
"Who are my parents?"
"They're in prison. They're- they're criminals."
"What? What are you- why am I? Why didn't you tell me? I-"
"We didn't know how to."
"What had they done?"
"They caused chaos and ruined our schedules, ruthless behaviour really."
"Is that so bad?" I can't stop the words of rebellion spilling off my lips like acid. I clamp my hands over my mouth but the damage is done. They look shocked, confused, hurt. But I don't take it back. I meant it. What's wrong with being a minute or two late every once in a while? We're humans, we're supposed to be flawed! How could poor timing and organisation harm us that much? "You don't know what you're talking about sweetie, you're upset and confused and still traumatised from earlier." Earlier. That feels like years ago now. Miss Grayson's body. So much blood. But this is now and I need to focus on the current situation. "No. I'm not some mental kid! Just because my parents are in prison, it doesn't mean I'm like them and ready to cause trouble at the slightest inconvenience! Not that what they did sounds that bad!"
"Violet please, you need time to think."
"I've spent my whole life thinking about these pathetic rules! Report me if you have to but I'm done!"
"Violet you don't mean that..."
"You don't understand, moth-" I quickly stop myself from finishing the word and I can almost see her heart shatter as the word lingers unspoken in the air. "Apologise to your mother right now!"
"She's not my mother and you aren't my father."

That's the last thing I say before storming out of the house and not turning back...