Perfect Storm

• Perfect Storm • | 38 |

April 18

*Flashback: 17 Years Ago*

"Hey, you ready?" J asks in a hushed tone to not wake our father who is slumped against the couch.

We were invited to a pool party. It was some kid's birthday and he insists on befriending us so he told us to stop by if it was possible.

"Yea, you know he's going to flip if he finds out we're sneaking out." he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, he can go fuck himself. We never do anything and quite frankly, I'm tired of listening to his commands," he says nonchalantly and throws his black JanSport backpack over his shoulder. Inside the bag are swim trunks for both of us, 2 water bottles, and a few bucks he took from Keith's wallet.

"Yea, but we both know that the dude is batshit crazy. What if-" he cuts me off with his hand on my shoulder.

"Lil brother, if we get caught I'll make sure he doesn't touch you. But this is our childhood soon it'll be gone and...and I just don't want him to take something so precious away from us, away from you." his voice is softer yet still no louder than a whisper.

I nod and shrug on my windbreaker before we both leave the small house we've never called home.

"Do you know the address? We've never gone to this kid's house." I ask. As many times as Andrew invited us over and we've said no, he never gave up. I mean the kid is ambitious I'll give him that much. He's J's age, 15, a freshman in high school. Maybe he shows interest because he can see the many bruises, new and old on our bodies.

Maybe it's because he likes our personality. I don't know but he's drawn to us like a moth to a lamp.

"No duh, of course I have the address, why else would we be walking down the street?"

"I don't know, we could be going to the liquor store at the end of the block." we don't drink, but we've had to get beers for Keith before and they have really good snacks. The guy who mans the counter lets us leave with 2 things each every time we come. He's pretty cool, I'd say he definitely knows what happens at home.

Hell, anyone who has eyes could tell what goes on behind closed doors. Although not everyone is willing to do anything about it. Most people just walk by as if they didn't just see two kids who look like they've been run over by a bus and dress like shit.

It is what it is but I do wish things had turned out differently.

"No need to be a smart ass." I roll my eyes as we walk down the long concrete sidewalk toward the more stable-looking houses.