Detention (DNF)

Nineteen

I was going to head back to the bakery, but then thought twice about it. That's probably the first place Clay would look.

Alex and Karl's houses probably weren't options either, and I'd felt my phone buzzing in my pocket for the past hour, but ignored it.

The tears on my cheeks were dried now, but the lump in my throat hadn't disappeared. I was walking through a park I used to go to when I was a kid, with my parents, and loneliness washed over me.

Now, more than ever, I was truly alone. I'd pushed away Clay, the person who cared the most about me. Alex, Karl, Nick and Bad would do just fine without my quiet, introverted self there.

I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I didn't have the heart to face Clay. I'd kept such a big part of my life hidden, and when he inevitably found out, I'd lashed out and hurt him.

I couldn't get the look on his face out of my mind. The look of betrayal, of confusion, and I hated myself for it. That nightmare had brought the worst out of me. I hadn't dreamt about the abuse of my old foster parents for years, and suddenly it was all rushing back.

I decided to look at my phone, and choked. Texts from Karl, Nick, Alex, Bad, Clay, unknown numbers (probably Clay's parents) and even Louise and Sarah. I didn't deserve these people, they'd done nothing but good things for me. And now, like a coward, I was running away again.

I thought back to when I'd run away from my abusive foster parents. I'd passed by my friends, who were playing soccer. They were horrified. I'd had blood on my face and clothes, and as I ran past, they all stared. I'd felt like an outcast, like a show for them all to point and laugh at.

Now I was doing it again, and my heart hurt when I realized they probably told Alex and Nick about my situation, too. I couldn't even be there to tell them, and I could only imagine how hurt Alex would be, that I kept it from him for so many years.

I sat down on a bench, in a small clearing by a pond. Ducks floated leisurely down in the water, and I watched them. One of the last memories I'd had with my parents was feeding these ducks, with lumps of bread, even though it was bad for them.

That was the last time I'd ever truly felt safe and happy, without a care in the world. Since they died, I've been barely getting by, causing trouble for other people everywhere I went.

The warm breeze made me sleepy, and before I knew it, my eyes drifted shut.