ESCAPE PLAN

.06 -- FOILED

The two teenagers were sent to their rooms to clean up. Obviously, it was a special occasion if Diane was leaving work early to come home. Marcus truly loved his wife, and wanted her to receive the respect that he believed she deserved. They had struggled with infertility for years, and when they received the news that they would be eligible to foster a three-year-old girl who had lost her parents in a tragic accident, they believed that it was a gift from God. Sofya was a blessing to them, and Jolie was just extra baggage that came with what they truly desired; a baby that loved them regardless of their flaws. Because of Diane's long hours and Marcus's commitment to the marines, their schedules were not ideal for a newborn, so a toddler seemed to be the perfect fit for them. When Marcus had to leave for his contract, Jolie came in handy as the perfect babysitter, which was another factor in the reason they did not mind the older girl.

Marcus had always wanted a son. Someone to catch a ball with, take fishing, and teach how to shave. If Jonathan Booker Routledge was that son, then he would accept him with an open heart, regardless of the amount of time they had together. After sending the children to their rooms to clean up, you would only imagine the older man's surprise when he found the old flip phone's call log filled with scrambled messages and local calls. Marcus frowned as he navigated his way through the phone, pressing the tiny buttons with his fingers, and discovered the escape plan that his foster son was concocting.

This boy was not his son. If he was, then he would not be making plans to run away. His son would love him unconditionally, be excited to spend time with him, and be active in their family. John B. was not his son, and that was clear to him now. Marcus's mind began to race as he went over the possibilities of who the teenage stranger in his home was. Perhaps a sign from God? Without a second thought, Marcus pushed himself off of the couch and stormed down the hallway, straight towards the room that the boy was closed inside of.

It was not unusual for the sound of footsteps to echo throughout the house. It was uncommon to hear them so close to the bedroom door, and especially rare that they shook the ground. Jolie and Sofya looked up from their books and to the bedroom door, waiting for it to burst open with an angry Marcus in the opening. When the footsteps passed by them, the girls looked at one another.

Not a word had been spoken, their room was silent, but as soon as Jolie heard the sound of her old bedroom door flying open and muffled shouts from her foster dad, the girl jumped out of the bed and looked to her little sister.

"You stay in here. Keep the door closed, and sit behind the bed." The older girl advised.

"What's happening?" The little girl asked, her voice coming out as an anxious whisper. "Is John B. okay?"

"I'm gonna go look, okay?" Jolie said, maintaining a stern, yet calming voice. "You sit behind the bed and keep reading, I'll be right back. Everything's okay, sissy, I'm just going to check." She said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Sofya's hair. "Now, go." She insisted, then watched her sister crawl off of the bed and sit adjacent to the nightstand.

Once the little girl was settled, Jolie quietly made her way out of the room, being sure to quietly close the door behind her, not to alert the other members of the house that she had left. From the end of the hall, she could hear Marcus's angry hisses, but was unable to make out what he was scolding the other teenager about. She rushed down the hall, her feet just barely making a noise as they padded on the ground, carrying her in a hurry to the commotion. As she neared them, she found John B. pressed against the wall by Marcus's forearm against his neck, the teenage boy pushing the older marine away from him with all his might, but the leverage that Marcus held over him overpowered John B.

"Hey!" Jolie gasped, her body moving before her brain could process what was happening. Her arms reached out to grab Marcus's elbow and yanked, trying to give John B. at least a fighting chance. "Stop it, he can't breathe!" She gasped, continuing her attempts to pull the man away, at least far enough for her friend to catch a breath. Her plan worked, yet backfired in her favor, as the elbow she had been pulling on reeled back and collided with her face.