Take Me On

“It’s not like it’s your fault. It’s what people do, they buy and they sell companies not caring that souls are involved. They only see profit margins and they never think about the families. I often wonder how much my family and the other families were worth. I mean, are we different from animals on an auction block?”


The heater clicks on again and part of me wishes West never brought up my family. I’m tired of being angry. I wish he was still holding my hand, but then again, that would mean me falling for a fighter and that can’t happen.

Flipping to my side, I turn away from West and try to create space between us. I told him I trusted him. I do, but I obviously shouldn’t trust myself.

“Haley...” He hesitates.

Silences seem longer in darkness. I think it’s because it’s harder to lie when the lights are off. There’s a rawness that only belongs to the night and the truth can’t help but be set free.

“Yes?”

“I hate to ask, but I need to know. What are the shelters like?”

I fold into myself, absolutely crushed. My dirty secret isn’t such a secret after all. “Did Jessica tell you?”

She knew because her mother had volunteered her to work the shelter’s kitchen one day as a punishment for stealing money out of her purse. I can’t begin to express the utter embarrassment and horror I felt the moment our eyes met over a tray of scalloped potatoes.

“Yes,” he admits.

“And you were going to tell me you knew when?”

“I’m telling you now.”

I bring my knees to my chest and tug the blanket to my face.

“What was it like?” he insists. “Staying there?”

“They separated us. Me, Mom and Maggie from Kaden and Dad. The three of us at the family shelter and Dad and Kaden had to go to the men’s.”

We had heard of family shelters and when we arrived, desperate for a place to stay, my mom broke down when they informed us men above the age of thirteen weren’t allowed to stay at the family shelter.

“But we’re a family,” my mom begged. Tears spilled down her face and Maggie sobbed with her arms wrapped tightly around my father’s leg.

“I wanted to puke, West. I wanted to find a bathroom and puke. I mean, we had just lost our house and we had nowhere to live and now we were being separated. I was terrified. It took everything I had not to grab on to my father and beg him to make it go away.”

The world became this tunnel-vision blur as my mom asked if an exception could be made and the person behind the counter kept telling her no.

Right as the tingling sensation in my head grew into a roaring, Dad grabbed me by my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. “You’ve got to be strong on this one, Hays. Do you hear me? I need you. Your mother and Maggie need you. I need you to do tonight and any other night what I can’t.”

“You stayed strong, didn’t you?” West says into the darkness and I jump, feeling a bit crazy as I wonder if I said the last part aloud. “Because you could protect your mom and sister.”

“Yes.” Tears well up in my eyes. I didn’t cry then and I won’t cry now.

I inch closer to the wall, not wanting his pity, but he parallels my movements. West doesn’t touch me. Instead, his body heats my back. His hand hovers near my shoulder and, after a second, his fingers comb through my hair. The gentle pull, the tenderness of the motion almost causes the tears to cascade down my face.

“What happened?” he asks.

I swallow to clear my throat. “We were fine, but things were rough for Dad and Kaden. The population at the men’s shelter was more...unstable. I found it impossible to sleep at night without knowing if Dad and Kaden were safe. My mom cried all the time and Maggie was starting to have night terrors.

“The shelter wouldn’t let Kaden in a few times because he had bruises on his face from training. They thought he was violent, so Dad and Kaden slept in the car or at the gym. One night, at the shelter, some guy tried to steal their stuff and Kaden hit the guy. All of them got thrown out. Then outside the shelter, Dad and Kaden were held up by a man with a gun. The next morning my mother went to my uncle and begged for him to take us in and here we are.”

My uncle demanded our car and she gave it to him. The bastard took the last thing my parents owned. If that hadn’t worked, then we would have lived on the mats in the gym: waking between three and four in the morning to be gone before classes began and not returning until well after eleven at night. It would have been the same as living out of the car.

“You saw where my grandfather lives,” I say. “There’s barely enough room for him and until my mother begged, my uncle wouldn’t take us in...”

The memories burn brightly in my brain and I wish they would fade. “I know what it’s like to be scared. To wonder if anything will feel normal again. There’s this hopelessness, a sadness that permeates through your pores, when you have no idea what home is or what the word means. I may be under somebody’s roof, but it’s not a home. I just want a home.”