I could hear them talking outside my room. Their voices were low. They are tight and angry. Angry men were never good. Angry usually meant shouting. It meant things breaking. It meant someone getting hurt.
But these voices were different. They were trying to stay quiet. It was like they didn't want to scare me. I didn't know what to do with that. I curled onto my side and clutched the blanket with both hands. My eyes still burned from crying. My chest hurt. My ribs hurt. Everything hurt.
But I listened anyway.
"None of them will see the outside of our basement," the man—my father—said.
My father. The word still felt strange in my head.
"I promise you that," he finished.
The word basement and promise resinated in my head. Those words should scare me. But somehow… they didn't.
I breathed slowly through my nose, trying to hear everything. Every footstep. Every shift in the hallway. I didn't really know these men. At least, not yet.
I barely knew their names, but the scary part wasn't them. It was the things they kept talking about.
Death Riders.
Stepdad.
Crime scene.
Words that made my skin crawl because I knew exactly how bad bad people could be. I turned my head and peeked toward the door. The big one, I think his name is Tank, was standing there. He was blocking the doorway. I couldn't run away even if I wanted to. He didn't move when nurses walked by. He didn't look bored or annoyed. He just stood there.
Watching.
Guarding.
Protecting.
No one had ever done that for me before.
"Then we're leaving," my father said outside the room. "Now. Before anyone else shows up."
Leaving, leaving sounded good. But where would I be leaving to. I just didn't want anymore flashing lights sirens, and cold exam tables and bright lights in my eyes.
Leaving meant I didn't have to see any of them again.
Maybe.
Just maybe…
Leaving meant I could breathe. My fingers moved to the little silver teddy bear around my neck. The metal was smooth and warm from my skin. It was the only thing that made it out with me. I wrapped my hand around it and closed my eyes. I didn't know if I could trust them. I didn't know if promises meant anything in this family.
But for the first time in a long time…I hoped they did.
Then the thought came. They started quiet, but then turned mean and familiar. What if I ruin it? I ruin everything. That's what Mom always said. She told me that every day. Long before the bruises started showing up.
"No one wanted you."
"I didn't want you."
She said it like it was a fact, like gravity.
Like the weather, and school proved she was right. Kids can tell when you're unwanted. They knew my parents didn't care. That made me an easy target. Sometimes I only got ten minutes in the shower all week. Sometimes not even that. Kids noticed. They always noticed.
"Trash."
"Rotten."
"Gross."
No one ever wanted to sit near me. They acted like it might spread if they got too close. Stepdad made everything worse. Even when he didn't say anything. He was best friends with the principal. Which meant I had nowhere to go.
No one to tell.
Every time I saw Mr. Myers leaning against his office door with that fake smile… Something cold crawled up my back. Even thinking about him now made me shiver. What if I ruin this place too? What if I ruin this chance?
These people keep saying I'm safe.
But what if they look at me long enough…
And see what everyone else did?
Too much trouble.
Too broken.
Too everything.
My stomach twisted. My chest felt tight again.Wanting something hurt. It hurt more than being numb. But a tiny voice inside me whispered anyway.
Soft.
Scared.
Stubborn.
I want better.
I'm just…
terrified to reach for it.