His eyes filled with hatred, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was ending this nightmare before it ruined everything.
You see, I only had one year left of high school.
The next time Ren and I ran, I wanted it to be for good. I never wanted to have to tie Ren to a new place so I could go to school. I never wanted him to feel as trapped as I did. I wanted to be free because maybe, just maybe, away from people and rules and constant reminders, Ren might slip enough to realise he loved me, too.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
REN
* * * * * *
2016-2017
FOR TWO MONTHS, our packed backpacks rested by the door ready to grab at a moment’s notice. I’d never opened a bank account as I had no identification to appease the paper pushers, and the cash I’d diligently saved was hidden in a small box under the rickety floorboard beneath the couch—ready to be snatched and taken.
I’d wanted to run the day we got home from the principal, but Della had picked a fight and we’d argued well into the night. Her reasons for staying were she didn’t want to move schools when she was so close to finishing, that she’d fixed it so the rumour would fade and the teachers would chalk it up to stupid teenage drama, and that I was too flighty.
I’d roared at that one.
Flighty?
How about fucking wary that even though Della was more adult than kid these days, she could still be taken away from me. Excuse me for not caring about anything other than her. Running meant abandoning my work and our apartment, but I would gladly give up everything over and over again if it meant she stayed safely by my side.
But even in the wake of my temper, she’d won in the end—just like she always did.
I bowed to her pleas to stay, just for a little while, and gamble with time to see who was right. If Tom kept his mouth shut, we would be free to stay. But if he didn’t, it might be too late to run next time.
I hated it.
I hated that I didn’t just grab her and leave rather than listen to her debate and bow to her conclusions. But something else made me agree and not just her excellent arguing skills.
I agreed because of the rumour that’d called me in to the principal in the first place. The rumour that Della was in love with me.
My heart had stopped and hadn’t beaten correctly since. It was just a silly rumour, but I agreed with Ms. Sapture: truth lived in rumour, and if such a thing was said…
Could it be true?
Who had started it?
And how could they screw up my mind by making me fear that my love for Della wasn’t pure, after all. That it was tainted and no longer black and white.
I withdrew even more from her.
I stopped using her nickname.
Whatever physical contact still existed between us, ceased all together.
She obeyed me and stripped the blue from her hair but that was about all she obeyed me in.
We became strangers living in the same apartment, and I couldn’t stop it because every time I looked at her…I wondered.
I wondered what she felt for me.
I wondered what she kept hidden.
I wondered about so many things I shouldn’t wonder about.
For eight long weeks, I ignored her when she was home, yet made her text me after each class. Just a quick I’m fine to let me know she hadn’t been taken by CPS. It was the only way I could focus on my work and not get trampled by the cows. And ignoring her at home was the only way I could be civil and not tear into her, demanding answers to the sick questions inside my head.
Was she in love with me?
And if she was…where the fuck did that leave us?
The incident should’ve ended up with us homeless and running again, but somehow, it was swept under the rug and life continued as normal.
All of it, from the threat of Social Services to the rumour of Della’s affection for me, was never mentioned again.
It made me nervous.
It made a ticking clock hover over my head, speeding up time and somehow slowing it down.
Christmas and New Year’s came and went.
We didn’t celebrate it.
Spring arrived, and as snow left the world a more habitable place, Della withdrew from me as I’d withdrawn from her, causing an even worse strain between us.
God, I missed her, but I had no idea how to fix something I didn’t understand.
Then, two weeks before our joint birthday, I broke my wrist.
The pain of being kicked by a cow while trying to hook it up the milking machine was a price I’d happily pay all over again because it gave Della back to me. If only for a little while.