Not My Hero

How can someone do this to another human?

You know how. You’ve had a monster for a father.

But damn, at least I was loved by Mom and Brady, and I have never been bullied at school.

Brie has nowhere she feels safe.

Pulling away, I sit back down and ask, “Has no one tried to help?” Anger for everything she’s been put through starts to burn through my veins.

“I called the police once,” Brie answers, much to my surprise.

“What happened?” Mom asks, and it’s only then I notice she’s sitting on the other side of the table listening to our conversation.

“My mom told them I fell off a bike and was looking for attention.”

When Brie doesn’t continue, I ask, “And?”

Brie shrugs. “They scolded me and said if I ever made a call like that again, they’d arrest me.”

“Mother of God,” Mom gasps. “How old were you?”

Brie thinks for a moment, and a frown forms on her forehead. “Six or seven.”

Holy shit.

Both Mom and I can only stare until Brie shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

“And school? Did no one ever notice anything?” I ask, even though I know most teachers look the other way or believe the lie you tell them.

“They just think I’m clumsy,” Brie whispers.

I glance at Mom and see the tears shining in her eyes, and I know she remembers all the lies we told to keep our filthy secret. Mom catches me looking at her, and she quickly gets up to continue with the food.

I turn my attention back to Brie, and placing a hand on her shoulder, I say, “You have us now.”

The saddest expression I’ve ever seen settles on her face as she slowly lifts her eyes to mine.

She’s too scared to even hope.

I lean forward and move my hand to the back of her neck. My voice is filled with determination as I promise, “You have me now, Brie. I’ll fight with you.”Chapter 9BRIEMrs. Lawson places a pillow and blanket down on the couch, then turns to where I’m standing, and says, “Are you sure the couch is okay? There is a guest bedroom you can use.”

I nod, wanting to be close to the front door. It makes me feel safer.

She glances at Colton, then smiles. “Call me if you need anything. Good night.”

“Night,” I mumble, my eyes following her until she disappears up the stairs.

“I’ll be right back,” Colton says.

I glance over my shoulder at the kitchen. There are dishes piled in the sink, and it makes my chest fill with apprehension. Mrs. Lawson said to leave it after cleaning up the mess I made when I dropped the glass.

My mother would kill me if the kitchen looked so untidy.

Colton comes back down the stairs carrying a pillow and blanket, and a frown begins to form on my forehead.

He sets it down on the other couch, then looks at me. “Want to watch some TV before we sleep?”

My lips part with surprise, and unconsciously wringing my hands, I ask, “Are you going to sleep down here, as well?”

“Yeah.” He pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are you okay with it?”

It’s not like I have a choice, so I nod.

“Are you going to sit down?”

“Y-yeah.” I swallow hard on the anxious knot in my throat and inching closer to the couch, I gingerly sit down on the edge of the cushion.

I know Colton said I’m safe here and that he’s going to help me, but… it’s hard to trust.

Colton lies down on the other couch, and taking the remote from the coffee table, he switches on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”

When I take too long to answer, he turns his head to me. My eyes dart between his and the TV before I admit, “I don’t usually watch TV.”

His eyebrows lift. “We can sleep if you don’t want to watch anything.”

“No,” the word burst from me. “I want to. It’s just…” I feel super self-conscious when I continue, “I’m not allowed to watch TV at home. You can put anything on.”

Colton signs into Netflix, and my eyes flit over all the shows I always hear the other students talk about at school.

He keeps scrolling then asks, “How do you feel about a documentary on the cutest animals? I think it will be relaxing.”

“Okay.”

The show starts, and my eyes are glued to the TV screen for a long while before they drift to where Colton lies on the other couch. He looks relaxed, and it makes me scoot back into a more comfortable position.

By the time an hour has passed, I feel it’s safe enough to lie down on my side. For a couple of minutes, my eyes dart between Colton and the TV, and when he doesn’t move or even glance my way, I relax into the cushion beneath me.

Everything at Colton’s house is in total contrast with my own home. No one yells, and I haven’t been snapped at once.