“The state gives us money to help raise you! To buy you clothes and feed you!”
“And to fund your liquor addiction!” I yelled back. That deep breath hadn’t helped at all, and I could feel myself shaking.
“We took you in when your mother threw you away!”
“Roger! For God’s sake! Stop!” Pam screamed at him.
I kept my mouth tightly closed so I didn’t say anything else, and so I could keep somewhat of a grip on my quivering jaw. I remembered Atlas’ words about how my mother cared enough to at least put me in hands that would care for me rather than leave me for dead.Atlaswas the one who told me that. Why didn’t these people ever try to help me not feel so hated and as though my mother tossed me out?
I took as deep of a breath as I could and exhaled slowly.
“I’m not going back to the community college next semester. I’m going to Omnia Academy.”
Roger laughed and shook his head at me. “You’re going to go to that fly-by-night school to learn to be an assistant to someone?”
Fly-by-night school… He was so clueless.Despite the aches I was already feeling from our bout of fists, I stood up straight and pulled my shoulders back.
“No. I’m going to Omnia Academy to be someone.”
“Is that a fact?” Roger asked.
I nodded. I could tell that I’d pissed him off even more. He’d wanted me gone anyhow, and now I’d made my own decision to leave rather than him getting to throw me out. His face was red, and his hands were balled into fists.
“Don’t act surprised, Roger. You wanted me out so it’ll free up space for some other kid who you’ll fuck up.”
“Get out now!”
I narrowed my eyes at him seconds before he reached for an empty can of beer and hurled it at my head. I dodged the can, and as Pam screamed, Roger started picking up anything within reach on the counter and threw it at me. I held my ground until he pulled a knife out of the oak knife block. I pulled a chair out to block his path to me as I bolted from the kitchen. I ran through the vacated living room and had almost reached the hallway that led to my room when Roger tackled me. I was face down on the cold tile that led from the entryway to the hallway and living room.
“Roger! Put that down!” Pam screeched from behind us.
The weight of Roger’s body was on me as he pressed the cool blade of the knife against the back of my neck. While he pounded on my back or punched my side, I remained as still as I could because the knife at my neck could cut me. I felt the blade nick my skin, and I flipped out and moved my neck away from him as best as I could.
“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled.
“I think you were headed in the wrong direction, Ryder.”
“Leave me alone! I was going to my room!”
“You don’t have a room here anymore. Get out now!”
“Gladly! Just fucking get off me!”
Roger punched my back a few more times, causing my head to bang against the tile. I pushed myself off the floor and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. I wiped the back of my neck with a few fingertips and looked at them.Blood. Pam stood in the living room with one hand over her chest and one in her hair.
“Ryder, please go to your room for the night,” Pam said.
“No! Get out!” Roger yelled as he pointed to the door with the knife.
I pushed myself away from the wall and stormed to the front door. I walked out and slammed it shut. From behind me, I could hear Pam and Roger yelling. I swallowed hard and forced my feet forward. I didn’t allow myself to look over my shoulder at the house. I needed to be away from it. Before I reached the end of the driveway, I reached around to my back pocket to make sure I had my wallet. I felt my cell phone in my front pocket, and sighed in relief, knowing I could at least function since I at least had those two items.
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans to combat the chill in the damp December air. Though I walked in the direction of the grocery store, I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I reached it. I didn’t want anyone I worked with to see me like this.
After I’d walked for a while, I sat on a bench at a bus stop. I leaned back and pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and stared at it. No missed calls. No missed texts. It was a little after nine thirty on a Thursday night.What the fuck was I going to do?
Over the course of two hours, I’d opened the text string with Atlas probably half a dozen times. Unsure of what to say to him, I closed the thread each time without typing a word.
I’d been eyeing a thin man who kept scratching his arm on the sidewalk. He tried talking to two guys who’d come out of a bar. They’d ignored him and kept walking. The man looked at the gutters and studied the sidewalk as he meandered toward me. It was after midnight when he approached me.
