Page 5 of Going Home

The door swings open to reveal a man with a larger beer gut than Creeper used to have. A stained white tank top covers his torso so tightly that Colt notices he barely has a belly button with the enlarged belly. He wears boxers instead of pants, and based on the smell, he desperately needs to wash them. And himself.

"What the fuck did you assholes do to get your asses brought here by a fucking biker?" the man shouts at the them.

"Harold, calm down," Hailey says from behind Colt, and he can't quite decipher if she sounds angry or annoyed. Her general demeanor is a bit off-putting.

Harold glares at her, and Colt counts his teeth. He's missing more than he has in his mouth, and the hideous yellowish-brown color tells the story that the few remaining won't be around too much longer. His breath could peel the paint off Colt's bike, and as he looks inside to the living room, he nearly gasps.

The house makes any biker's apartment in the clubhouse look spotless. Empty vodka and bourbon bottles, all plastic not glass, litter the floor along with mounds of old food and trash. Maggots and ants inch among the piles of rotting food, and some of the takeout containers actually move. The woman he assumes to be their mother lies passed out on the couch with the rubber tie wrapped around her upper arm still intact and a small collection of used needles on the ground. A heroin user.

Jesus Christ. No wonder they wanted to stay somewhere else. Squatting is better than this shithole.

"Answer me when I ask you a question, boy!" Harold shouts, grabbing Lucas by his shirt and lifting him up before slamming him against the open door before Colt can react to stop him. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Harold, stop it!" Hailey screams as she tries to reach around Colt who blocks her way.

Colt grabs Harold's wrist, squeezing it until he releases Lucas, and when he does, Colt swings him around to slam him against the wall with enough force to break a man-shaped hole in the sheetrock. "Don't you ever fucking put your hands on him again."

"That'smykid—"

"Step kid, asshole," Hailey says. "You're his stepdad."

"You both still belong to me since your daddy went and got himself killed in a car wreck. At least he wasn't like your mother who offered herself like a fucking little bitch."

Hailey kicks Harold's shin, but Colt only tightens his grip on the man's arms as he tries to reach for Hailey. "You stupid bitch. I wish you'd go and play in traffic."

"I wish you'd find your way into a pile of drugs like Lucas's mom," Hailey spits back. "Then you'd be remotely bearable."

The dynamic of the family makes the situation even worse. Hailey's an orphan, and Harold is an abusive, alcoholic stepdad to Lucas after their father died. Poor kids.

"Well, too bad you don't get what you wish for. But I'm still responsible for the both of you until you turn eighteen, and you have no idea what kind of punishment I have in store for you both," Harold says, his breath making Colt's eyes water.

Tossing him to the ground to get away from the stench, Colt says, "Not anymore."

"Excuse me?" he asks, climbing to his feet and getting in Colt's face.

He grabs Harold by the throat and tosses him back down before waving both kids outside. "They're not staying here. CPS should have been called a hell of a long time ago. Both of you, get back in the car. You're coming home with me."

"You can't just take them!" Harold shouts, struggling back up to his feet.

Taking out his phone, Colt takes picture after picture of the house, the unconscious woman on the couch, and Harold. "Here's what's gonna happen, Harold. I'm going to talk to our lawyer and get guardianship papers sent over to you. You and that woman are going to sign them, and you're never going to see these kids again. I'm going to be their guardian now."

"Like hell you are!"

"If you don't sign those papers, the pictures of everything I just took are getting sent right to the police station. Plus, you're clearly abusing the kids. I'll get my ass thrown in jail with you just to give you a taste of your own fucking medicine, so don't fucking tempt me."

Harold squares his shoulders, but he staggers on his feet. "You think I'm going to just let some trashy biker take my kids?"

"They're not your kids, and this is not a life for anyone, especially kids. This explains how I found them in my empty house where they've been staying for a month. You had no idea where they were or how long they've been gone, so don't even attempt to act like a concerned parent now. You're relieved of your duties, effective immediately."

Lunging forward, Harold misses Colt who barely sidesteps the large but drunk man, and he falls to the dirt outside the house. "You can't do this!"

"I didn't even need to touch you to get your face buried in dirt. Think about what I can do when I actually apply myself. You'll never be able to fight against me, and if you try, not only will I have both you and that chick in there arrested for neglect and child endangerment, I'll make sure you have a rough fucking life. Do not fuck with me, asshole."

"What the fuck do you want two bratty teenagers for anyway?"

"As a father, you're lucky I don't break your goddamned neck, among other things. Go near those kids again, and I promise you that you will take a permanent nap. And it will be the most painful torture I can come up with, which believe me, you can't even imagine what I can do. Now, stay the fuck down there until we leave, or I'll break as many bones as I want until you can barely crawl your pathetic, fat ass inside."

Turning to the SUV, Colt takes his time, hoping the man decides to play the game of fuck around and find out by getting to his feet to give him a reason to break both kneecaps. Instead, he seems to have a moment of semi-intelligence and stays down while Colt climbs in. Both kids sit in their rightful seats, and he lets out a deep breath. He should have talked to Lex before making this decision, but he couldn't leave them here.

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