Nathaniel

Chapter 4 [Edited]

Aidan

Please don't shout. Please, oh god please don't shout. I'm still not ready to face you.

My dad had lost his temper again last night and 11 hours feels like nowhere near enough time for him to have cooled off. I don't even know what he'd got angry about. One minute I was cooking him dinner, only feeling the awkward tension between us, and the next minute me and the pan of stir fry were slung across the room.

Normally it was something small they made my father angry, but yesterday he just snapped. I don't know why. I had let my guard down because he didn't seem to be in a bad mood for days, and I payed for it. Hard.

Now I was lying in my bed, not daring to move and see the blood staining the sheets or feel the bruises littering my body. Not moving meant my body was numb, and when my body was numb so was my mind. It was better this way.

"Get your fat ass down here now." My father yelled from downstairs, most likely from his study. He barely ever left that room. And I only entered when he wanted something. And on occasion when he was out and I was in too much pain to go to school, I snuck in to use his computer.

Nothing had ever changed- bar getting worse- and nothing ever will. I'd lost all hope 6 months ago when my step-mum died. It was a tragic time because some drunk driver didn't stop at a red light, slamming his big truck into the back of her polo, killing her almost instantly. She died cold and alone on the way to pick me up from school. That was a massive turning point with my dad. Before, he'd been able to control some of his anger, but now he didn't have his wife to guide him, there was no stopping him. Not only did he lose his new wife, but he lost all his rationale. And I'd lost my lifeline.

"I said now!"
I wasn't ready. But I didn't have a choice anymore.

I was only in a pair of boxers, but when my dad wanted something, he got it, whether I was ready or not- not that he cared what I looked like. I pulled back my blanket getting out of bed and slumped my way down the stairs towards my impending doom, wincing as I went. This was not going to end well. It never did. No matter how well I completed a job, my father would find some way to punish me. It just wasn't fair. Life just wasn't fair.

Nate

I've not stopped since Rob had the phone call. We weren't prepared for another child to come in since a young girl, Abbie, joined us a week ago whist her parents spend 2 years in prison for fraud. I felt sorry for her as she was split from her sister who went into a foster placement elsewhere.
At the best of times, I still couldn't bear to be apart from Lewis. I thought of him every day. I thought of him when I poured a bowl of his favourite cereal- Cheerios. I thought of him when I walked past the park and saw lots of school children laughing and playing together. And he was my last thought when I went to bed. I'd lived without him for years, but no amount of time could stitch up my heart from when my mother had tugged Lewis out of my life, ripping my heart in the process.

Everyone here had their fair share of stories to tell, none of them particularly joyful. We were all dragged here kicking and screaming, away from our old lives. It didn't matter how bad our lives were, none of us really wanted to leave our version of normality behind.

I'd been neglected by my mum since we moved back here from America. She used to be carefree and adventurous, not giving a damn what I did.
As soon as Lewis came into her life, she changed dramatically. She turned into a cold hearted witch.
And I hated it.
She changed into a woman with standards so high, I couldn't reach it with stilts on.
She used to abuse me, too. It may not have been the worst forms of abuse imaginable but it hurt nonetheless. Both me and my father and my social worker agreed it was best for me to live in care so that my mum would try and calm down but so far it's not worked. I don't think she'll ever let me be.

Picking up a now full box of random clothes and toys, I moved it into the other spare room we had- along with the other 17 boxes of stuff. It had taken a couple hours but now the new kid's room was useable. There was only a bed and a wardrobe but it would do them for now.

Rob had wanted everyone out the way for the first few hours or so, just so the kid didn't get bombarded with questions and shouting. That obviously failed. I was happily minding my business, cleaning part of the motorbike I've been fixing for when I'm older, when hell broke loose in the living room. I could hear degrading shouts about the new guy until Rob sauntering into the kitchen and sat down next to me, his cheek bleeding slightly from a scratch mark.
"Where is he?"
"He's run away. He must've heard that lot cause he looked so upset when he left. I've got Carol on the case. He doesn't trust me yet. I think he needs some time to think alone. He's had a hard day."
"I knew I needed it when I came here." I laughed. I'd done the exact same thing the day I first came here.

Carol was an elderly lady who lived down the road. She was unable to have children on her own so often volunteered here when Rob needed extra cover. She'd do anything to be with children in her free time and we all loved her. Secretly, I think it's because she gave us sweets when Rob wasn't looking.

I hope the poor guys okay.