Chapter 1 #2
I shake my head and tuck my chin down, forcing my face into a double chin.
She smiles anyway. She takes my hand, ignores my resistance, and pulls me forward. She brushes past the judge like he is nothing more than a decoration leaning against the doorframe, and he stays where he is, watching every step I take.
“This is your home now,” she says as we cross the threshold.
The house is beautiful.
As we pass the front door, black-and-white marble tiles spread beneath my feet.
A white marble staircase stands at the center, its gold railing leading to the second floor.
To the right, part of the living room opens, revealing a white sofa alone in the middle.
Further to the right, an oval opening, framed by two white angel statues, leads to the garden.
I hear water splashing and imagine a pool just beyond my sight.
I look at Catherine. When I look at her, she starts to speak, but the loud motorcycle noise cuts her off.
I step closer to the opening, trying to look out.
She rolls her eyes. “I guess Judas is home early.”
“Judas?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Your brother,” she says with a smile.
Brother?
And just as I tilt my head, a girl comes in from the right side.
“Hi, Mrs. Harrington,” she says, clutching the helmet to her chest. Her chestnut hair is pulled into a high ponytail. When she tilts her head, her green eyes lock onto mine. She scans me slowly, from my white sneakers up to my face, where I know my raised brow gives me away.
“Hi, Ella,” Catherine says, wrapping her in a hug.
I stay frozen.
The black cheerleader uniform catches my attention first, the red-and-white stripes along the edge of her skirt, the logo hidden behind the helmet pressed to her chest.
I tilt my head back to the right.
I see him.
A tall boy with sun-kissed bronze skin. My eyes lock onto his and don’t let go.
One eye is icy blue, the other, hazel green. He looks at me, not really seeing me, as his stare passes straight through. His black hair is wet, greasy, and falling over his forehead. He drags a hand through it, pushing it back, but two stubborn strands fall loose again.
As he walks closer, Catherine’s voice and Ella’s chatter blur into background noise. All I hear is the leather of his jacket and pants screeching softly as he moves toward us.
He parts his full lips. There is stubble along his tight jaw, on his upper lip, and a little on his cheeks. He doesn’t say a word. He leans in toward Catherine and presses two fingers to his forehead in the air toward me.
Who are you?
“This is Judas,” Catherine says. “Your brother.”
Well. That answers that.
“Carmen,” I say. Heat rushes into my cheeks as my gaze drops to the floor. My fingers find a loose strand of hair and tuck it nervously behind my ear.
He still doesn’t say a word.
I lift my head again, my eyes skirting past his instead of meeting them.
Rude.
He smirks. One corner of his mouth lifts as he drapes an arm over Ella’s shoulder and starts toward the staircase. Halfway there, he turns his head and looks back at me.
This time, he really looks.
“Well, that was awkward,” I murmur under my breath, taking a small step back.
“No, dear. No,” Catherine says as she comes closer and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Judas can be a bit guarded, but I am sure he will treat you like a sister once he gets to know you.”
Sister.
I swallow, my spit suddenly stuck in the middle of my throat.
Sister, I repeat in my head.
“Let me show you around,” she says, but her words fade when Simona’s voice comes in from behind us as she speaks to Judge Harrington.
“We still need to take care of the paperwork.”
I look at her. In my eyes, there is only one thought. I want to get out of this place. In hers, she wants to be done with me.
The door closes.
The judge guides her inside while Catherine grips my arm and pulls me toward the stairs.
This is supposed to be a new beginning.
Somehow.
For me, it feels like another attempt at an ending.
When you grow up like I did, believing you don’t deserve nice things, you learn that every good thing in life has to be earned. And I have nothing to offer.
Catherine doesn’t see that. She is too excited. Maybe she wants a new toy to dress up in expensive clothes and parade in front of her wealthy friends. Someone she can show off to.
I am not that.
I don’t want any of this.
As we reach the last step, she says, “I know all of this is new, but I want you to feel like you are part of the family.” She smiles.
“I…” She stops, then turns back to me. “I grew up with nothing. Meeting William was pure luck. And since we can’t have kids of our own, we wanted to give an opportunity to kids who don’t have a home. ”
I don’t say a word. I just nod.
Somehow, I tell myself this is better than Juvenile Hall. But every house like this hides secrets. People like her always do. I already know she and the judge have theirs.
We walk to the end of the hall. As we pass one of the rooms, the door is open just enough.
Just enough.
Ella is on her knees. Judas’s hand is tangled in her hair as she takes his hard cock, deep down her throat. The sound hits me before my brain can catch up.
I gasp.
Judas chuckles.
His eyes lift and lock with mine through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look surprised, not even ashamed. He pushes the door closed slowly, like he wants to make sure I understand what I saw.
As if closing it could erase the image burned into my eyes.
At this point, I need bleach for my eyeballs.
Catherine doesn’t even notice. She is already opening the door next to it, far too excited.
“This is your room,” she says as she steps inside. “What do you think?”
The room is bigger than the dining hall back at Juvenile Hall.
I clear my throat. Ella’s mouth, Judas’s grip, the sound of it all still replay in my head.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lovely.” I smile.
“Simona said you didn’t have any clothes,” she adds as she slowly backs toward the door. “I took the liberty of getting you some.”
I nod and walk to the bed. When I sit, I sink into white sheets.
“Thanks,” I say.
She nods and closes the door behind her.
I lie back and shut my eyes.
Sometimes the road takes you somewhere you didn’t choose. Not the path you want, but the one you need. At least, that is what I keep telling myself.
“This is fine,” I whisper. “You will be fine.”
1. I don’t care, crazy.
2. No, little sister… no.