James washed his hands of me that night. Not so much as a call or visit. I was trialled as an adult. I wasn’t given bail because I was deemed a flight risk.
That was his doing.
I’m not stupid.
An idiot maybe. For losing control. For beating them until they were unconscious.
For leaving.
Do I regret it though?
No.
Not when they had done what they did—not that anyone believed me. The one person who could have spoken up was nowhere to be seen.
And that hurt.
But she couldn’t have known. Otherwise, she would have been there, telling her story, supporting me through it, getting me the fuck out.
Instead, I was left alone. To serve my time.
But I’m out now, and she’s eighteen. Which means we can leave.
Together.
I knock on the door; the sound vibrating through the quiet still night. Inside, my heart beats wildly.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Against my ribcage.
I feel sick.
I feel nervous.
I’m fucking scared.
A shadow moves around inside, the light distorted as the person approaches the front door.Please let it be her.
Maria opens the door, and her face is a picture of relief as she takes me in. Her hand goes to her mouth as she sucks in a shocked breath.
I’m taller, I’m stronger, I’m more determined than I’ve ever been.
“Owen,” she gasps. “Oh my God, Owen.” Her bottom lip quivers, her eyes fill with unshed tears as she throws herself at me. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. He wouldn’t let me come.” She grips my neck, and I hold her to me, smelling in her comforting smell; fresh linen and coffee. I bury my face in her neck, and I take a moment.
“Hello, Mum,” I say in a broken whisper. “Is she here?”
“Oh, Owen…she left.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
My heart beats even louder. Blood whooshes through my ears.
She left.
I pull back and rest my hands on her shoulder as Maria cries. “What do you mean,she left?”
“Ran away. Six weeks after you did.”
