The man looked a bit more welcoming with round cheeks and a stomach that stuck out a few inches from his form. HIs eyes were a deep brown. But other than that, the boy I knew who was near panicking didn’t look much like them.
“Welcome,” I greeted, keeping my anger out of my voice as much as I could. “I’m Ryker.”
“Why am I not surprised?” The woman, Mrs. Matthews sniffed. “Where’s my son? I want him now.”
“Before I allow you in, you must understand that he isn’t the same person you knew from before. He’s an adult, and he can make his own choices. He’s been abused severely, and certain words or moving too suddenly can cause him to panic.”
“He’ll be fine,” the man coughed.
Clamping my lips together, I stepped out of the way and let them enter the house.
Scarlett stood, greeting them and making introductions. Mrs. Matthews didn’t seem pleased, even though I had told her the conditions over the phone just hours before.
“And you are?” I could hear the disgust in Mr. Matthews’ tone.
“Enzo.” Simple and to the point.
Walking around the furniture, I took a stance where I could see Emery. At least it seemed like the meds had kicked in, as the panic wasn’t covering his face so much. It was still there but managed. For now.
“They were held together. Because of that, they’re close friends.” Scarlett supplied just enough information without outing exactly who they were together.
I couldn’t see Emery’s parents' expressions at all from where I stood.
“So,” Mr. Matthews cleared his throat. “How much more therapy before he’s back to normal?”
“To be frank,” Scarlett said, leaning forward. “It will take years. This isn’t something that a few days of talking will fix. Emery will never be the boy you knew. He’s been through things you won’t be able to wrap your mind around.”
“I thought he was an adult,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Why isn’t he answering himself?”
“I asked her to answer for me.” Emery’s voice was shaky. He swallowed before going on. “It’s easier for me.”
“You never could just answer things, could you,” his mother huffed. “You’re still the same. You’ll never grow up.”
“Mom—”
“Mrs. Mathews,” I said, louder than intended. “Emery has had a hard enough time trying to find his voice as it is. Can you please not be so crass?”
“Why are you still even here?” she asked, turning to face me. Her eyes looked me up and down, as if I were the cause of her son’s problems.
“He’s my friend.” Emery answered before I could. “If it weren’t for him, you’d be burying my body instead of seeing me here today.”
Mrs. Matthews huffed, turning around to face Emery again. “I think it’s time we go. Come, Emery.”
“No.” Emery’s head shook back and forth, panic creeping back in again. I watched as Enzo placed a hand on his knee.
“What do you plan after that?” Scarlett asked, keeping calm. The fire in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. “What will you do when the panic and anxiety hits in the middle of night, leaving Emery to fight each breath as he heaves and pukes? What do you plan to do when he can’t eat because his thoughts refuse to let his body get what it needs to keep living? And, may I ask, what the hell do you plan to do when he runs off because everything he knows had been taken away, again?”
“There’s a camp that will put him back together. They help his kind.” Mrs. Matthews said, as if it was as simple as that.
“Pickles.”
I didn’t even think as I crossed the room. Enzo was already there, pulling Emery up by the hand, murmuring soft words to him. I took his other hand, wrapping him into my side.
Ignoring his parents, who kept asking questions about what was going on, I led Emery from the house. All the while, Emery kept repeating his safe word over and over, tears falling and breathing sharp in his chest.
All too soon, Emery sagged against me, head hung low.
“Shit.” Enzo’s word barely registered as I lifted him into my arms, cradling him against my chest.
