Click.
That was the sound he heard before the lights went out, making his room almost pitch black. Damn, Skye thought to himself as he glanced up from his opened economics book that was propped against a pillow on his bed. Annoyed, he got up off his bed and walked over to the light switched, flicking it on and off a few times—nothing. Great, the power was out again. Letting out a heavy sigh he opened his door and stepped into the equally dark hallway. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He managed to find the hallway cabinet and searched for some candles. Scrounging around he found three. Lighting them he put one in the bathroom and the other two in his room so he could finish his homework assignment. Skye sat back down on his bed and finished writing the sentence he had been composing before the lights went out. It had something to do with the FDIC and how they rescue failed banks before they go completely under under—something he really wasn’t interested in. He didn’t have any money to put in a bank, failed or not.
He glanced out the window at the apartment nearby, and noticed a bright yellow light burning through the partially closed blinds of the neighbor’s kitchen. He rolled his eyes. He knew that if his neighbors had power and he didn’t, that meant only one thing, his alcoholic foster mother, Jane had more than likely spent the power bill money on her booze or gave it to her low-life boyfriend for his weed. Either way, it pissed him off. He shivered—not from being cold but from being angry.
When he finished his homework, he placed the paper inside his book and put it all in his backpack beside his bed. Skye took a deep breath, took the candle off of his bedside dresser and held it close to his face, watching as the flame danced magically on the candle’s wick. It illuminated his face as the light reflected off the dresser’s mirror. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the flame against his face and on his hands. He let his mind wonder; he wished he could turn back time—go back three years ago when his parents were still living and could fix things. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten sick that night, his parents would still be alive.
His recollections were interrupted by the sound of a door screeching open and then he heard footsteps. Everyone was probably home now. He sighed. His time of peace and quiet was over. He placed the candle on top of his bedside dresser and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. Moments later the bedroom door opened and the bright beam from a flashlight penetrated the room, blinding him, forcing him to shield his eyes. “The power went out,” Jake, his older foster brother said, as he walked into the room.
No duh, Skye thought, rolling his eyes
“How long has it been out, Skye?”
“’Bout twenty-to-thirty minutes,” Skye answered, as he stretched out his legs. He shared the room with his two foster brothers, Jake and Aaron. Jake was the oldest, 19—and was a little on the dumb side. He was Jane’s biological child, her only child. Aaron was sixteen, a freshman at Lewis Ryen High and like Skye, was a foster child. Then there was Carly—an eight year old—who Jane had been carrying for the past four years, although caring wouldn’t exactly be the correct word. She was the only one Skye really got along with —perhaps because she was still a child. He had a soft spot for children.
Jane wasn’t one of those people who took in foster children to give them a home. No, she did it for the check she got every month from the government to support them. She had a way of manipulating people, hell even Skye thought that she seemed sweet and motherly until he really got to know her. He couldn’t wait until he was eighteen and he could leave, get out of that house and really begin living life.
“So what you been doing, sitting here in the dark?” Jake asked as he sat down on his bed, which was closest to the door.
Skye sat up straight, he hated when Jake tried to make small talk with him because he knew Jake couldn’t really give a rat’s ass about him or how he was doing. “Pretty much, finished my homework by candle light.”
Jake shook his head, “I hate homework, never do it.”
Oh there’s a shocker, Skye thought. A moment later there was another click and light burst throughout the room, hurting Skye’s eyes. He could see Jake now. He was sitting on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, playing with his pocketknife. His dark brown hair was falling over his eyes as he watched the knife he twirled between his fingers. Jake wasn’t what Skye considered attractive. His hair was always oily and unkempt. He was a big guy. A big mean guy and the high school bully. A dumb big mean bully who couldn’t seem to graduate. Oh well, third times a charm they say.
Skye brushed a strand of his auburn hair away from his face as the bedroom door opened and Jane stood there in the hallway leaning against the doorframe to keep her balance, a glass of whisky in her hand. “Well the power is back on. I called ‘em and gave them a sob story and they said that we could pay the bill at the end of the month.” she said. Being unsteady, she sloshed some of her drink on the floor.
“Whatever.” Skye said, under his breath, as he reached for a book beside him and opened it.
Jane stared at him like he had said something to really offend her. “You should be grateful you’re not still in the dark young man,” she said, downing her glass before placing it on the dresser. “Hell, you should appreciate the fact that I give you a place to live and feed you.”
Skye rolled his eyes getting even more annoyed with her. “Whatever,” he said again. “I think I know why you really took me in; the same reason why you took in Carly and Aaron—for the money.” He wanted to add because she was a greedy selfish bitch, but choose to bite his tongue on that one.
Jake jumped to his feet, which for someone his size looked like he was going in slow motion. “How dare you talk to my mother like that!” he snapped, his fists clenching tightly.
Jane glared angrily at him. “You thankless prick,” she slurred as she took a drunken step towards him. “If it weren’t for me you’d be in some group home with a family who couldn’t care less about you and wouldn’t care if you got the shit beat out of you. You live pretty damn decent here and you have me to thank for that.”
Skye closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table before gazing up at Jane. Her reddish-brown curls were a mass of mess all over her head. “It would be no better than what I have here.” He said.
Carly poked her head in to see what was going on. Jane glared at him—she couldn’t believe that he’d even dare speak to her like that.
“Jake, leave for a minute.” She said throwing a glance at her son.
“But ma -”
“Just do it!” She said cutting him off. He looked at me, then at her before walking out of the room, dragging Carly with him. When they were out, she shut the door behind them and pulled a cigarette from her pocket. “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like that,” she said, while taking a lighter from her pocket and lighting her cigarette. “Rick and I have been more than decent to you since you came to live with us, and I think you owe us at least a little respect for the 10 years we’ve took you in.” she said.
He watched as she came toward him. She was unsteady because she had been drinking. She swayed with each step. Skye took a deep breath; he was sick of holding in how he felt and sick of how she treated him—like some stone that ended up in her shoe that she couldn’t get rid of. “You have done nothing for me. You took me in for the money you get every fucking month; you don’t care about me, or Carly or Aaron. All you care about is yourself and your selfish son and worthless boyfriend.”
Her green eyes grew dark. Angered by Skye’s remarks, she slapped him hard across the face. “Do not ever speak to me like that again, do you hear me?”
Skye placed his hand against his left cheek and stared at her. Never in the 10 years he had lived with her had she ever laid a hand on him. “I took you in when nobody else would, not a single member of your real family cared enough to take you because they didn’t want a spoiled selfish child. I should have left you there at that group home where I found you.”
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat that was beginning to form trying to hold back his tears. He clenched his fists tightly and bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything else to make her angrier than she already was. She took a drag from her cigarette, and then blew the smoke into the air. “Jake! Rick! Come in here and bring a few of those scarves from the coat closet with you,” she shouted. She looked at Skye and smiled wickedly, “You think we treat you bad? Well you’re about to find out how bad we can really treat you,” she said. The bedroom door opened and Jake and Rick entered. “Tie him to the bed for me,” she said stepping out the way.
Skye looked at her shocked, but before he could even react, he felt Jake’s hands on his ankles. He tried fighting back; kicking his legs to free them from his foster father and Jake’s grip, but a hard blow to the stomach from Jake made him stop fighting back. He took in a deep breath as they finished tying his arms and legs to the bed. He was tied up so tight that if he struggled at all, the knots of the scarves would tighten even more. Jane nodded her head at her son and boyfriend as a signal that she no longer needed them, they obediently left the room, closing the door behind them. She walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, gently caressing his auburn colored hair.
“It’s really sad that you have to force me to do this,” she said. She reached over to untie his right arm. Skye didn’t know what to do or say, so instead he just lay there quietly. What have I done? He thought to himself. She brushed her fingers soothingly against his forearm as she placed his arm in her lap. “Now, this might hurt a little bit,” she said, as she brought the lit end of her cigarette close to his arm. Skye bit his lip hard to keep himself from screaming as the cigarette burned into his arm. He twisted and squirmed from the pain as she continued, making a trail of six cigarette burns down his arm. Every time he tried to pull his arm away from her, she’d press and hold the cigarette longer in one spot. When she seemed satisfied with her handiwork, she put the cigarette out and untied him. “Now I hope this teaches you a lesson. Don’t you ever talk back to me again.”
She took the scarves and placed them into her pocket before leaving the room. When the door closed behind her, he rolled over onto his side and stared at his arm. His arm had cigarette burns, in a straight line, a quarter of an inch apart from each other. He touched one of the burns with his finger and winced at the pain. He couldn’t believe what she had done. Skye sat up and wiped the tears that had begun to form in his eyes.
A moment later there was a light knock on the door. “W-what do you w-want,” he said, trying not to break down. The door opened slowly and Carly walked in. The eight-year old’s eyes were red from crying, her blonde pigtails were messy and she was shaking. “Oh, Carly… Come here baby.” He said sitting up all the way. The little girl walked over to Skye and got on the bed, burying her head in his chest.
“Did Mama hurt you?” she sobbed.
Skye pulled his sleeves down to cover the burn marks on his arm; he didn’t want Carly to see what Jane had done to him. “No, Carly. I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile.
Carly looked up at him, her big blue eyes full of tears. “Are you going to go away?” she asked worriedly.
“Who said I was going away?” Skye asked, as he gently pulled the rubber bands out of her hair and started braiding her long golden locks.
“Mama. she said she was going to call the police and tell them that you were burning yourself and that you and her got into a fight and you hit her. That’s not true is it, Skye?”
“No sweetie, it’s not,” he said caressing her cheek. Great, he thought, she probably was going to call the cops and make up some story to get him arrested for something he didn’t even do. “Listen okay?” he said standing up and emptying out his backpack on the bed, “I have to leave tonight, I don’t know when I’ll come back but I promise I will,” he said, kissing her gently on the cheek.
Carly looked up at him confused. “But where will you go?” she asked.
He hadn’t though about that. Where was he going to go? Eh, who cared as long as he got out of this house, he would manage somehow. “I don’t know, but I’ll come back for you okay?” he whispered softly in case Jane was listening in on them. “But you can’t tell anyone that I’m leaving, otherwise Mama will be mad.”
Carly nodded her head and wrapped her tiny arms around Skye’s neck. “Promise you’ll come back?”
“I promise,” he said, holding Carly in his arms. Releasing Carly, he then walked over to his dresser and began stuffing some of his clothes into his backpack. It hurt to leave Carly. But he’d keep his promise; he’d be back.
