Chapter 8 #4
The next morning, I was prodded awake by a girl wearing braces, waving a hockey stick at me.
The daughter of the house. She’d scolded me for creasing her new blue top, and I thought I was busted.
I remember how she held her finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet as she’d re-covered me with clothes.
I’d been terrified when I heard the voices of her parents.
Luckily, I remained hidden, safe for another day.
She said her name was Clara, and she brought me food, some of her little brothers’ joggers, and a fresh top.
I think I was there for around four days until their dog found me and alerted the parents. ”
“Then what happened?”
Reed’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “They called the authorities. At first, I was seen as a runaway. A kid who runs away from home during that developmental phase when children test boundaries set by their parents, or some bullshit like that. I read about that years later.
The cops came and took me back to social services.
I remember Clara was crying. I didn’t have any ID on me, and I wasn’t identified correctly.
I gave them a different name. There was no match on their system.
I then made up some tall story that they didn’t believe about being homeless, and eventually, I was logged in the system as Reid Mehari. I used Micah’s surname on purpose.
A few things happened then, none that I can explain, but I wasn’t sent back to the Palmers.
There was no record of a Reid Mehari ever having been there, so why would there be any connection?
I didn’t say anything about those fuckers or that house.
The social worker did tests and asked me questions about why I was so malnourished. I dealt them the homeless card again.
I never said anything about how I’d been treated, as I didn’t think they’d believe me.
I remember acting aggressively and yelling, refusing to eat one day, which wasn’t like me, having been starved before.
One of the child psychologists said it was common for eight-year-olds to run away from their parents.
I remember shouting at them that I had no parents, and of course, I wasn’t lying. ”
“How did you find out you were abandoned?”
“Once they’d found out my real record, which came later.”
“Go on.” I felt physically sick.
“Anyways, eventually, I got lucky. They found Micah in the system as Ma was in the process of fostering him. They easily matched the names as Mehari was such a unique surname, and BOOM. Eyebrows were raised when they learned that Micah was black and I was white, but when they accessed his files, my details were there as Reed Prescott. I came clean and said that was me and how we had been housed together since we were five. That’s when one of the social workers there started to backtrack, learning how they’d made a mistake by separating us in the first place.
I had the chance at that point to tell them about the Palmers, and I still didn’t.
That woman saved my life. I remember calling her Julie. She was the one who made sure Micah and I were placed together again, but this time with Ma Sawyer.”
It sounded like a horror movie. “So, there were never any safeguarding concerns raised about the Palmers?”
He shook his head, picking at his fingernails.
“No, they did ask about the Palmers when they saw that’s where I had been sent after being split from Micah.
I just said I wasn’t happy there, and they admitted that the paperwork had been misfiled.
I should never have been separated from Micah when we were ripped from our first, permanent foster.
That’s the only reason I wasn’t sent back, the mix-up from their end, not that I was unhappy.
They didn’t care about that. Thankfully, they admitted their mistake, and I wasn’t sent back.
Otherwise, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.
I should have confessed what happened with the Palmers, but I didn’t.
When she asked why I left, I explained that I just wanted to get back to Micah.
I knew she was suspicious, and she put the paperwork through, but had to contact the Palmers to explain I’d been found, and that alternative living was being organized.
For three nights at the center, I was terrified thinking David or Louise would come back for me.
I remember trying to run away again. They were then deregistered as my home managers. ”
Reed paused to take a breath, his gaze moving past my shoulder, like he was staring into space.
“And then that last day, I had a chaperoned visit with Micah and Ma while Julie filed the new placement plan. I remember us hugging each other so tightly. Something we had never done, being boys. That type of stuff was for sissies. And the rest is history.”
Silence then kicked in, and it was louder than ever.
I leaned forward and placed one hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry you went through that, Reed.”
That drew his gaze down. “That’s not the worst part,” he began, those piercing eyes of his lifting to drill into me.
“I’m not torn up by what happened to me; I had put that in the past, or so I thought I had.
It’s the fact that I didn’t come forward sooner, and that shit that went on for years afterwards is what’s eating me up inside. I get so fucking angry.”
“So, the flare-ups on the field. They are connected?”
“Hey, you’re the expert,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“No, Reed, it doesn’t work like that,” I explained, lifting my hand from his leg and leaning back.
He cut me a look. “So, you’re not the expert? You’ve lost me?”
“It’s my job to get you to realize stuff on your own.”
Reed dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, it first started with panic attacks around a week after the Palmers' house was raided, and I recognized it on the news. Then the anger kicked in.”
I placed my hand on his knee again, and he covered my fingers with his own. “How can I look at myself in the mirror after seeing all those kids who suffered as I did.
Had I come forward instead of saving my own skin, they would have shut that shit down sooner.
You know, one of the girls was so undernourished and academically stunted that her brain didn’t develop properly. She’s eighteen now and talks like a fucking nine-year-old girl. I can’t stand it.”
Tugging his hand away, Reed pushed to his feet and walked over to the window. It had started to rain, and I stood, moving toward him, taking in his body language.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I spoke the truth. “You were a child, Reed. Terrified. You can’t blame yourself for not going to the authorities.”
After another squeeze of that knotted muscle, I could feel beneath my fingers, I asked. “Who else knows that you are a victim of the Palmers and part of a story that is now nationally recognized?”
“Just you.”
He then turned towards me, his face so pained that I wanted to drag him against my body and hold him, whispering it was OK.
I could see he was close to breaking down as he propped himself on the table just under the window.
“You did what you needed to do to survive, Reed, and there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
We ended the session with Reed back in the chair and me perched on my desk just in front of him.
“So, what now?” he questioned, looking thoroughly exhausted.
And my reply. I really didn’t know.
There was no quick fix solution to how he was feeling. Survivor's guilt was a psychological condition that occurred when a person believed they had done something wrong by surviving a traumatic event.
After a brief pause, I decided that there was only one thing he could do. Speak out.
“I think you know what you need to do.” As his counsel, I wasn’t supposed to tell him what to do, but as someone who loved him, I felt that was my right.
“What?”
“Go to the cops. Identify yourself as one of their victims. I saw on the news earlier that two more victims have come forward, and they are in their late twenties. That means they would have been there before you.”
“Yeah, I saw that, and I’ve thought about it, but the heat that it would bring to the case would be immense. Not to mention the effect on the team.”
“I know. And it will be hard, but it’s the right thing to do. Now is your chance to make what you believed you have done wrong, right.”
“The only way to get closure is to ensure those fuckers pay. And it looks like they will get that irrespective of whether I come forward or not.”
“Maybe. But I think this is something you need to do, to cleanse yourself. You’re a big star, Reed; you could bring the entire world's eyes to that story. Educate people as to what can happen in the social care system. They failed you and so many other kids, and they should be brought to task.”
“I know, I agree. I guess I’m afraid,” he confessed, his shoulders dropping: the need to pull him into my arms powered through me again.
“I get that, but you don’t need to do that alone,” I took his hand and pulled it toward me.
“No?” he moved forward on his seat, his knees skimming mine.
I didn’t want to give him false hope and needed to be careful. “No. I’m here.”
“Yes, as my fucking shrink,” he grumbled.
I lifted my chin defiantly. “No. As someone who cares about you. As your friend.”
“Just my friend?” he said with a forlorn look. Fuck I hated it when he gave me those puppy-dog eyes.
“For now,” I whispered, unable to deny him at that point.
I released his hand, and Reed folded his arms over his chest and hooked his jaw toward me. “OK. I can accept that. It’s better than nothing, I suppose.”
We sat together for another half an hour, going over everything that had happened and rough dates. I sat in front of my laptop and typed in everything that would be relevant. Reed still had some gaps, and he would need to be certain before he came forward, if that was his decision.
I walked him to his car, and the atmosphere between us was still charged and unsure. Before he got in his vehicle, he leaned down and kissed my cheek.
“Thank you, Storm. For listening and being there.”
I didn’t say that’s what I’m paid for or anything harsh like that, I just smiled.
“So next Sunday?”
“Next Sunday?” I questioned, my head still a mess.
“Yeah. I’m calling dibs on my date,” the tortured boy was gone, and the confident man stood in his place.
The sooner the date was over, the better for my sanity. “OK, yes, next Sunday works for me, I suppose.”
“Just the two of us. I’ll speak to my lawyer about the next steps in the Palmer case, but our date is just about us. No shrink shit.”
“Us as in the past us.”
“No, us as in the future. Put our childhoods on hold for the time being and live for the now.”
I smoothed the creases from my blouse as he opened his car with the key fob. “OK. I can do that.”
Pulling the door open, he gave me a sexy smile. “Great. I have a busy week, but I’ll have my PA send over my schedule.”
It suddenly felt like I was in high school again and waiting for my crush to kiss me. “Cool. Well, if you want to talk about anything else. Just call, OK?”
Reed raised a brow as he watched me from above the open car door. “What about Jasper?”
“This isn’t about him, and it’s none of his business.”
I could see how my words were welcomed. I was surprised Reed had said his name, but maybe he understood the situation more now that we had spoken.
“Laters, baby,” Reed said with a wink before lowering himself into his car and closing the door.
I stepped back as he fired the engine, the grin on his face suggesting he felt he’d won something.
As he drove away, I attempted to reinforce my heart. I knew I wasn’t done with Reed, not by a long shot, but what could I do?
You’re marrying Jasper because you love Reed. To keep everything he has achieved safe. When he was young, he had no one to protect him. But this time, he did.
I was Storm Summers, and I would burn anyone who went after the man I loved to the fucking ground.