"I never asked to be here.", I spat.
"Well I don't really give a shit Quinn. We didn't have anywhere else for you to go.", Matt snapped.
"There are hundreds of foster homes and group homes."
"None of them could handle your fucking bullshit."
"Oh and you can?"
"I have for two months. Thought you might back down by now but I guess not."
"Backing down isn't my specialty."
"I'm aware. Sit." I huffed but sat across the table from him, pulling a slice of pizza onto my plate. Every Friday, Matt and I sat down and had an hour long dinner at least. We always got takeout and it was an hour where we could ask each other any questions we wanted. It was one thing I liked about living with my parole officer. "I have a question I've wanted to ask for a long time."
"Okay."
"Why did you call the cops that first time? When you were twelve?" I froze,
"Greg."
"The first boyfriend?" I nodded,
"He... He came into my room when I was sleeping and grabbed me. Mom called me a lying bitch and he tried to fucking choke me so I ran off and called the cops. Then mom beat the shit out of me for lying."
"I know you weren't lying." I forced a small smiled,
"Thanks."
"And I'm sorry your mom is a psycho whore who takes in toxic men."
"Yeah. Me too." I sighed, "Why'd you drop out of college?"
"What? I-I didn't."
"Fucking liar. Your study has a shit ton of college textbooks and every award or certification you've ever gotten is on your wall. If you had a college diploma, it'd be up there. So you didn't finish. Why?"
"Fucking smart kids.", he muttered, sighing, "I-I just wasn't cut out for it. None of the adults in my life supported me and I fell behind in classes and couldn't catch back up. So I gave up. Became a cop instead and when I realized how fucked up and corrupted that all was, I switched to a parole officer to try and help kids."
"You help me.", I muttered.
"Oh, I'm sorry what? Was that almost a compliment?"
"Shut the fuck up. This is why I don't say nice things to you.", I laughed, "I think you should go back. Just because people didn't support you then doesn't mean you can't do it."
"I don't know. I might."
"I know you didn't ask, but can I tell you something?"
"Of course you can dummy."
"Derek, boyfriend number four, he raped me. At least he was the first. When it happened, my mom told me I was a slut and it was because of how I dressed. It just kinda followed your question a little I guess." I paused, "That was the first time I got put in a home. I went back and forth three times before I just said fuck it and got arrested. I was in juvie for longer than a foster home."
"I'm sorry kiddo. Your mom was a shitty person who dated shittier people and you didn't deserve any of that. You're a good kid, you just put up these defensive walls to protect yourself and they turn you into a disrespectful bitch."
"I don't think you're supposed to call me that.", I laughed.
"Yeah we don't really have a professional relationship Q."
