Page 4 of UnWholly Angels
My heart clenched and guilt riddled my chest. I couldn’t leave Riley behind. He didn’t deserve to be left out here, and Iwouldn’t forgive myself if I acted like Rocco. Maybe instead, I could help him. Show him the best hiding spots, teach him the ins and outs of the group home, and show Riley exactly what made Rocco and his greasy-haired friends tick. Maybe if I helped him, then he could help me escape someday.
A few security lights remained along the property, and thankfully, there was one close enough to the sewage drain. The hazy orange light shone onto the ground, and I could see Riley’s long fingers poking through the holes of the drain grate. His grunts and soft sobs showed how hard he was working to try and get out. I made up my mind and raced over to the place from my nightmares.
The ground was already cold and damp as I knelt, and sadness rippled through me. Riley was hunched over and already soaked from the rain, too tall to fit in there the way he was. I could imagine his knees were pressed together in pain. You could hear the squeak of the rats coming through the smaller side pipes, and Riley sniffled as he willfully tried to kick them away.
“Please get me out,” he begged. “I don’t like the dark.”
Bracing myself on my knees, I pulled at the heavy metal. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge. I took a break and a deep breath, trying and failing again.
“Give me your hand,” I demanded. Hesitantly, his shaky fingers threaded within mine, and I held them tight. “In a few minutes, I’ll try again. I promise.”
“Please don’t leave me here.”
“Never. By the way, you don’t look like a Riley. You have a nickname? Most who walk through those doors get one at some point. So, if you don’t, it’s no big deal.” I stared at him through the grate. His shoes were now submerged underwater, and if I left him any longer, he would lose them; it wasn’t likethat old bitchreplaced anything around here. We’d have to resort to stealing or begging. Once, I took the shoes right off a checkeredblanket at the park while a mother played in the sandbox with her kids. I’d outgrew them, but they were all I had. The money that came to the group home always seemed to be ‘gone.’
I wouldn’t tell Riley the harsh truth, only hoping he didn’t face the same difficulties. I’d only asked his name to start a conversation and take his mind off the current situation. I didn’t actually care about a nickname; I really liked the name Riley.
Despite everything, his lips twitched into a small smile. “I normally go by my middle name, but we just met. It’s way too soon to tell you,” he joked.
“Give it to me or I can leave.” I tried to stand, but he refused to let me go, gripping my hand tightly. “Okay, okay. What if I just give you one instead?” I asked hesitantly.
He nodded. “Get me out and you can do whatever you want, Freckles.”
The darkness did nothing to hide my flushed cheeks. Nobody had ever mentioned my freckles before. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, which was weird. Shaking the feeling away, I focused back on the grate. I was determined to free him, even if it alerted Rocco. He didn't deserve this. None of us did.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a few days since I’ve eaten. I’m not as strong as usual,” I admitted, repositioning myself to get a better grip. “You push up and I'll pull. On three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three!”
He pushed, and I pulled as hard as I could. Together, we were able to move the grate, flipping it over onto the dirt beside us. Reaching for his hand, I helped Riley out and onto his feet. “I know your legs probably hurt, but we have to get out of here before someone hears us, or we get struck by lightning,” I heaved, pointing toward the trees.
He struggled to catch his breath but nodded, and together we made our way through the woods toward my hideout. It took about ten minutes to get there, and by the time I pushed my way through the thick brush that hid the entrance to the dug-out space, I was completely out of breath.
We crammed our bodies inside the small space, and I tried to smile his way. “I know it’s tight, but I figured anything is better than the hole,” I shrugged.
Moving a few things around, I felt for the stash of peppermint sticks I had buried in the back. If I didn’t eat something soon, I would pass out. My shaky fingers dug through the mud until they ran over the plastic bag. At this point, I'd lick the mud from the candy just to eat.
After I inhaled a few peppermint sticks, Riley cleared his throat. “You seem dangerous. I like that.”
I laughed. “Well, living in this shithole, you kind of have to be. But you don’t seem like you belong here. Why are you here?”
“Why are you?” The hidden warning was thick in his answer, and I backed down.
Should I tell someone I just met my life story? Did he really care?
Never in my life had I wanted to just break down and tell someone everything. It never felt safe to do so. But with his eyes locked on mine, waiting patiently for answers, I felt like I could trust him.
“My mother was…is…an addict. Sh-she got caught trying to sell me to an undercover officer.” The small area started closing in on me, and my chest tightened as panic set in. “It wasn't the first time, either. It started when I was ten, at least, I think that’s when it started. It could have been earlier, but I don’t remember anything about my life before then. If she didn’t have money, I was the next best thing to trade for access to her habit.” Quickly,I wiped at my face, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but it wasn’t good enough.
Surprisingly, he didn't shy away like I’d expected him to. Instead, he just pulled me into his lap and brought me right to his chest. Even after being beat down and thrown into the hole, his arms were still warm and tight around me. I hid my face in his shirt, and through the wet fabric I could smell something that reminded me of wood and cologne. It was comforting. “I love my mom, but it’s been an endless cycle,” I admitted. “I want to have a family that wants me, that would love me. She just won’t let me go. She keeps fighting in court to have me back home, but I always end up back here.”
I could hear Riley’s heartbeat thrum against his chest as he sat in silence, taking in the information. His breathing was hard and forced, like I was making him mad. This was always where I started to feel like a burden to people, and why it was so hard for me to share anything.
There was a long pause, his jaw tightening before he spoke. “When my dad would get drunk, he would lock me in the closet for hours and tell me there were ghosts. He’d even scratched at the door a few times for good measure,” he gritted out. “Once I pissed myself, and instead of doing something about it, my mother stayed quiet and made me do laundry at three in the morning on a school night,” he confessed.
