Foster Kids

Chapter 13 : Safe

Chapter 13

Riker POV   

I couldn't really hear what Ross was saying on the phone, but I knew he was talking to Mark. My heart was pounding in my ears. I couldn't stop shaking. My fingers and toes were numb.

Ross put my phone down on the ground.

"He called the police."

I only just realized he was crying.

"S-stop. W-we're f-fine," I said, reaching for him.

"No, we're not fine! Now take your shirt off."

I took off my shirt and Ross took off his hoodie. I put it on, but I wasn't much warmer. I could hear Ross breathing faster and faster.

"Why does it feel like I can't breathe!?"

"Y-you're having a p-panic attack."

He put his hand on his chest and started hyperventilating.

"R-Ross. Y-you need t-to t-take deep b-breaths."

"I can't. I can't breathe. How do you make this go away!?"

I put my hand on his back.

"Y-you n-need to t-try."

He leaned his head on my shoulder and started trying to breathe slower. He still had his hand on his chest and he was holding his shirt tightly in his hand.

I put my hand over his, trying to make him calmer.

"Oh god, you're freezing."

Ross held my hand in his.

"Give me your other hand."

I gave him my other hand and he held them tight in his, trying to warm them up.

And then I started hearing sirens in the distance. We're going to be ok.

Ross continued holding my hands as we just sat there, listening to the sirens getting closer and closer. I couldn't stop shivering.

Finally they arrived. I could see them through the windows. One of them opened the back door and saw us. A few police officers came running over to us.

"Are you guys hurt?" One of them asked.

"Riker's bleeding," Ross said.

"Ok, we'll call an ambulance. They're arresting your parents."

"Good. I hope they never get out," Ross said.

One of the police officers turned on their flashlight on their phone and wanted to look at the back of my head.

"How did you get hurt?"

"Dad bashed his head against the cement," Ross said, holding my hands tighter.

I could feel one of them moving my hair, probably to get a better look, but it was hurting a lot when they did that.

"I came as fast as I could."

I turned around and saw Mark. I jumped up and grabbed onto him tight, crying again. He held me in his arms tightly.

"Who are you?"

"He's our old foster parent," Ross said.

"Let's get you boys inside and wait for the paramedics."

Mark picked me up and carried me inside, and I was glad because my feet were numb.

"Why are you soaking wet?" Mark asked, gently setting me down in the living room.

"F-fell in t-the p-pool."

I saw some of the police officers helped Ross in too. It looks like he hurt his ankle. Or I mean dad hurt it.

"Let me take you upstairs so you can get some dry clothes," Mark said, picking me up again.

"You need to wait for the paramedics first," one of the police officers said.

"He's soaking wet! He's freezing! He needs dry clothes," Mark yelled.

I've never heard him yell before and it was kind of scary. But I guess it worked because the police officer didn't say anything else.

He carried me upstairs to my room. I quickly got changed into my pjs because I knew they would be more cozy than regular clothes. And then I sat down on my bed, feeling extremely tired.

"What did he do to you?" Mark asked, sitting down next to me.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling more tears going down my face.

"Hey. It's ok. You're safe now."

He pulled me onto his lap and just held me tightly in his arms. I cried into his chest. I just want tonight to be over already.

After a few minutes, he picked me up again and brought me back downstairs. He put me down gently on the couch next to Ross and then went to the kitchen to talk with some of the police officers.

"I'm so sorry. Are you mad at me?" Ross asked, still crying.

"Why would I be mad at you?" I asked.

"Because he hurt you because of me!"

"Stop. This is not your fault."

"Yes, it is! You told me not to provoke him!"

"He was drunk, Ross."

"It doesn't matter! It was still my fault!"

I pulled him into my arms.

"Stop. It wasn't your fault. He chose to hurt us. You didn't do anything wrong. He did."

He was clinging onto me so tight and he was trembling. I felt so bad. He's getting anxiety just as bad as me now.

The paramedics arrived and started wrapping Ross's ankle and cleaning the cut on the back of my head. But they were using stuff that was making it sting and I wish they would stop already.

One of the police officers took Ross into the kitchen so he could ask him about tonight. Mark came back in and sat down beside me on the couch.

"They're calling the foster center to get the paper work to get you guys back to my house, ok? It might take a few hours, but you guys are coming home with me," he said.

"Thank you. Ow!"

The lady kept cleaning the cut on my head over and over and I was done.

"You're hurting him. Just bandage it up already," Mark said.

"You can't bandage it up. It's the back of his head. You need to hold pressure on it until it stops bleeding," she said.

"Then let me do it."

Mark moved closer to me and held something against the back of my head. And the stupid paramedic lady left.

"How are you feeling?" Mark asked, softly.

"Tired... But I feel so awful about the whole thing. Ross had a panic attack, and this was exactly what I was trying to protect him from! And now he thinks that this was his fault!"

"It's not."

"I know! I tried telling him, but I don't think he believes me."

"Riker, can you come talk to us in the kitchen?" One of the police officers asked.

I slowly stood up and held the gauze on the back of my head. And I sat down at the kitchen table. This is going to be a long night, isn't it?