Don't Hold Your Breath

Chapter 5

The wind blew my hair from my face as it streamed in through the cracked window, allowing for some air circulation. I glanced over at Zeke momentarily to find him looking oddly relaxed. For the first hour we had left the house, he had seemed twitchy and on constant vigilance as if he expected someone to pop out of a car with a gun at any time. Now he was the picture of ease.

"Bingo." He suddenly said, reaching over to gently knock my shoulder with his fist.

I looked over at him in surprise, my mouth dropped open. "Hey! You can't suddenly do that, you have to say we're playing Bingo!"

"Bingo!" he said again, knocking my shoulder for a second time as a taxi passed us.

"Jerk." I muttered, shooting him a scowl.

"It's not my fault you suck at this game." He shrugged.

"I don't, I'm usually pretty good at it when I play it with my foster brother." I pouted.

He glanced over at me with a contemplative look.

"What's your foster family like?"

I pursed my lips, unsure how to answer that. Nobody had ever asked me that before.

"Loud." I finally responded after a moment's thought, laughing at my own conclusion. "They're always talking over each other, but nobody ever minds. They're very happy and welcoming people."

"Did they take you in when you were 8?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, it wasn't until I was 14 that I met them."

Zeke's brow furrowed as he briefly glanced over at me before looking back at the road. "Who did you stay with for those six years?"

My mouth formed into a wry grin. "Other foster homes briefly. And an orphanage in between the foster homes."

"Why briefly?" Zeke asked.

"Why all the questions." I shifted uncomfortably.

"Curiosity." He shrugged. "I want to know more about you."

I bit my cheek slightly before answering him. "The other families I stayed with before the Anderson's weren't very accommodating of my... handicaps. They took me in and all I would hear was how amazing my eyes are and then they would get frustrated when I didn't respond. They gave me pity and attention and expected that this would miraculously help me recover. When they got tired of me, they would send me back."

Zeke didn't respond for a moment, the only indication I had that he had heard me was how tense his hands were on the steering wheel.

"How were you handicapped?" Zeke finally asked.

I gave him a flat look. "My legs for a starter. It took a while for them to heal properly and then I had to go through the painful process of walking on them again. But then I also stopped talking. I don't know why, therapists said it was the trauma, but all of my foster parents thought it was a mental thing I could control. My second foster mother would cuff me upside the head every time I didn't respond to her, thinking that eventually I'd learn to speak out of fear of getting hit. It didn't help.

"For the longest time, I thought Paul and Diana were going to be the same. They already had a son and Diana was pregnant so I knew it was only a matter of time. I remember when the twins, Rachel and Regan, were born. I had been all prepared to pack up and leave, just like at the other homes I had been in. I was convinced that they would stop caring about me now that they had three children, their own flesh and blood, to worry about."