Escape

Chapter Two

He doesn't say anything when he gets in the van, but after ten minutes of driving, I get curious and ask. It doesn't really make sense. Why am I living with my cousin now? I don't have to have a room to myself. I can continue to share with Aiden.

"They want me to take you because they thought you might like it better than being in a small home crammed with six people. Your sister graduates next year, and you're not quite graduating yet. You're just on vacation right now," he says glancing in my direction with sympathetic brown eyes.

Biting my lip, I look out the window with my eyebrows knitted downward. I don't mind being in a crowded home. I'm fifteen years old, and I still have this year and three more years.

I'll have to live with him for that long and maybe longer since I'll have to earn money to leave. I'll miss all of them too. I might not get to visit them.
Why did I get in so quickly then? I guess I have a primal need to do what I'm told.

"I think you'll like living with me," he says trying to make me feel better.

Releasing my lip, I give him a small smile and glance at him.
Landon is a mystery to me. My parents never let me really talk to him, and when I did it was ackward since I didn't really know him. I would mostly just point out something I see in the yard and house and talk about that.

He was always nice as far as I can remember. My parents just never let me talk to him since a couple years ago when I turned thirteen years old.
I remember that day well. It was after the birthday party we had where he was invited. I was too distracted by opening gifts and cake to notice him talking with my parents privately.

After my party I noticed he was here, and I wanted to say hi to him. My parents told me he had to leave, and I just listened to what they said. I didn't try to ask him to stay longer or question why he had to leave.

Ever since my parents had tried to find ways to distract me from him. They figured out I could fetch them this and that till he had to leave. Sometimes they looked like they were really talking, but other times they didn't. I never really minded since he didn't come too often.

Now that I'm living with him, I wish I had tried harder to talk to him. I have nothing to talk to him about. I have no idea what he likes and dislikes. I just know he's a nice person, and I think he said he likes the color black. He's not really too talkative if I remember correctly.

I scan his body for something to comment on, but the only thing I can think of is the tattoos. Tattoos are permanent. I wonder why he would get something so permanent. What if it's personal, and he doesn't want to remember it? I guess I won't know unless I ask.

"Why do you have tattoos," I ask looking to his face to gauge his reaction.

He glances over at me for a second, but he doesn't seemed bothered by my question. I didn't want to trigger him or anything by the question, and since he isn't I'm curious what they are. It just seems like random numbers. Why would you want something random especially a tattoo?

"I like the way they look."

A slight frown appears on my face as I realize I never really asked what they mean, just why he has them. I open my mouth to ask what they mean when we pull into a driveway. I didn't realize we were here. My green eyes glance out the window at the house. Well something bigger than that but not a mansion.

It's made of red bricks that are cracked and broken with ivy growing along the sides. The roof is plain black shingles without a chimney or weather vane on top. A long concrete sidewalk from the edge of the driveway leads up to the stone steps and up to a dark wood door. Lush grass grows on the lawn around the sidewalk and house. No one else lives around here. It's just road both ways you look.