I can’t believe Officer Daniels touched Hadley like that. When he did, it was like all the anger I’ve been feeling about those pictures came to surface. I wanted to pound his face in, but something told me to hold back. This rage… this anger… it’s nothing I’ve ever felt before, and I hate it.
My dad is standing outside the police station when we pull up. I’m sure he didn’t expect this, but I don’t care right now. I want him to leave me alone. I wish I had the balls to tell him that I hate my life here and that I want out. That I don’t like the way he treats my mother. I don’t want to work in the mill. That I wish he were more of a dad, the kind that took time to teach me how to throw a baseball or toss a football. That he encouraged me to be more than he was.
Another officer opens the backdoor and pulls me out by my arm. My dad steps forward and touches my lip. I jerk my head away. Not only do I not want him touching me, but my lip hurts.
“You’re lucky he found you first, because if I did, you’d have more than a busted lip.”
I look at the officer holding onto my arm and ask, “Did you hear him?”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Officer Daniels replies in his hillbilly voice. Of course he didn’t. “Where is Mr. Ross?” I ask, but am met with silence.
I’m pushed into the station, taken to a room and thrown into the chair. I almost tip over, causing the officer and my dad to laugh. I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Mr. Ross,” I yell, but the door is slammed before my voice can carry out of the room. He’s always been friendly and nice to me, but now, here I am being treated like some common criminal. I need Mr. Ross. I need his help.
The officer leaves, leaving my dad in the room and no way to defend myself. Great, just what I need. My dad pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. He folds his hands, pressing his index fingers to his mouth. If he thinks I’m going to talk to him, he’s crazy.
“Where were you going?”
I look down at the table and count the specs of red mixed in and wonder if that’s blood. I should’ve asked Dylan a long time ago if her dad was a violent man.
“Who’s the girl?”
No answer.
He leans forward, pulling my chin up so that I’m looking him in the eye. I try to move away, but he’s pinching me, holding me in place.
“I suggest you answer, boy, because in case you’ve forgotten, you live under my roof.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I mumble. He releases my chin. I try to rub it on my shoulder to relieve the pressure, but it doesn’t do enough to ease the ache. I’m sure I’ll have a bruise there now, too. I wonder what my mom will say when she sees me. Probably nothing, I’m sure. She’ll sit on the floor and pray, asking God to forgive her son and all his sins. She’ll shut down, stare out the window and act like I don’t exist.
“Where were you going?”
“Nowhere.”
He slams his hand down on the table. I hope he broke it.
“Answer me.”
“I did.”
He rubs his face and sighs, though he hasn’t ever cared before. He makes things this complicated, it’s not like he’s ever sat down and asked me how I’m doing or paid a bit of attention to me. I’ve just been another mouth to feed and someone he’s had to put second-hand clothes on.
“I’ll ask you again. Who’s the girl?”
I shake my head. That’s one question I’m not willing to answer. If he wants to beat me, so be it, but he’s not getting any information about Hadley.
“You’re not going to tell me? You don’t think I already know about you and her. You don’t think I know that you’ve been sneaking out of your room at night since September, that you’ve spent the night with that whore?”
I look up when he calls her a whore; she’s anything but. “Go to hell. You don’t know shit about our relationship,” I say through gritted teeth.
He stands, his chair colliding with the wall. He leans over the table, his hands flat, arms spread out wide. He’s intending to scare me and I’m sure he would be if I weren’t so pissed off.
“You’re seventeen years old. She’s an adult. She’s a pedophile. She’s the type your mother and I have been protecting you from. Any adult who takes advantage of a young, innocent boy deserves to rot in the fires of hell.”
I bite my lip to keep from screaming out, but I can’t hold back. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. You don’t know shit about her I. She didn’t take advantage of me. She fought me every time I tried something with her. I want to be with her and she wants to be with me and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re so screwed up in your own world that you have no idea what life is like for me. I hate you. I hate that I’m seventeen years old and the first girl to show me any attention, the first one to see ME, you try to do all you can to ruin it.”
The door opens and in walks a lady dressed in a suit, carrying a briefcase. My dad eyes her up and down and shakes his head. He’s such a chauvinistic pig. I wonder how I didn’t turn out like him. Moreover, I wonder how my mother can stay married to someone like him.
“I didn’t hire a lawyer,” my dad spews.