CHAPTER TWO

The walk takes about thirty minutes from the bridge to my home. Standing in front of my house I notice the dying flowers and the rotting wood. The house hasn't been repaired in years and the grass is obviously overgrown. It's only my mom and I that live here but it honestly seems like more with all the men that she brings in.

Breathing in and out, I turn the broken knob of the door and step inside.

Just enter and go into your room. Then you'll be safe.

As I step inside my mother is already on the couch watching television with a man I don't recognize. They're covered in my blanket with their feet sticking out and sitting on the table. I try to slowly make my way to my room to not make my presence known but both of them turn when I accidentally walk on the creaking wood.

"Kate, come here!"

Mentally blaming myself for not being quiet enough, I bring myself  to the middle of the living room where they are located.

"You needed something, mom?"

I watch as my mom slowly tried to fix her messy blond hair to no avail. She then smiles at me, but it isn't one of those warm smiles that will let you know that will be all right. It's one of those cold smiles that make you feel inferior, that there is nothing you could do to escape.

"I want you to meet Danny. He's going to be staying with us sometimes."

I look over at the man my mom introduced me to. I give a small smile and cross my arms, trying not to drink too much attention to myself. He returns my smile with another one, only this one is more malicious, and I know immediately that I can't trust him. Not that I can't trust anyone my mom brings home.

"Honey, can you get us something to drink? I'm thirsty."

Internally sighing I make my way over to the kitchen where they are already a couple of empty beer bottles and several more bottles of alcohol stored in the cabinets.

In a bored tone I say, "Are you in the mood for Scotch or Whiskey?"

She's quiet for a while, pondering which alcoholic drink she and her now-partner should ingest before finally deciding,

"Make it Vodka. I'm in the mood for change."

Grabbing the bottle of Vodka from the cabinet under the sink I begin pouring it into two shot glasses. Taking the glasses, I put them on the table which is right next to my mom and the guy.

As I'm setting the glasses I felt a rough hand on my arm. Looking up slightly, I can see the middle aged man give me a wink before leaning back into the couch again. My mom doesn't notice nor cares and continues watching television. Hiding my disgust, I ask if they need anything else before quietly making my way over to my room.

Locking the door I go to my bed and slowly pull the covers up to my shoulders. I cry silently, not wanting to disrupt them again.

I can never be safe.