THE BOY WHO NEVER SPOKE | Complete

Chapter Twenty-Two

16 years ago...

A part of me is still in denial of what just happened, and a part of me could give a care in the world. I never expected Kyle's family to always welcome me with open arms, but I definitely didn't expect our journey to end so soon.

"Room 127," said the girl at the reception. Her name was Chloe, and God was she a pain in everyone's arse. I was sent to some nasty foster home that was probably filled with murderers, and drug addicts.

I've made some friends over these two years here. I mean you need to if you wish to survive over here. Although it gets quite depressing that no one visits because I am the brother of a murderer. It kind of grows on you, loneliness.

You slowly start finding peace in your alone time, even though I spend my alone time getting in fights and punching officers. I still find peace in that. I drew the little girl on a paper that got taken from me so I don't sell it for nicotine or alcohol.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, being the little brother who got a knife wound in his chest isn't the thing that lets families come running to adopt you. Especially if you are a witness in a murder investigation.

"Leave him alone," I heard a voice coming from far away, but It was blurred by Will's punches on my face. I got into a fight again, but this time it was with one of the old people here. Will was 17 and he was built like a machine.

He had black eyes and dark messy hair with facial hair all around his face. He had a scar on his left eye and people literally stepped aside when he came. Legend has it that Will has been here since he was 5 years old which is almost like me.

And I just fought him for absolutely no reason. "Hey," I heard the voice again, I assumed it was a random security guard helping me out, but that was before I saw a tiny figure pull Will off of me and knock him down to the floor, and the rest was a blur.

***

"Good Morning sunshine," A random guy says to me. He had messy brown hair and a sweet smile. I could swear he couldn't be more than 8 years old, but my mind hurts whenever it tries to think. "It's been 20 hours." The boy says before he puts some water to clean the blood off my face.

"What happened?" I ask as I get up to scrub my eyes, "You got your arse handed to you by a 17 year old." He giggles, "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I don't really know, I just like trouble I guess." I shrug.

"You're Jeremiah's brother right," He asks, "Ezekiel Redwood."

I looked at him in confusion, "Yes I am," I said, "How do you know my brother?" He oddly looked like Jeremiah ; for a second I thought it may be him.

"Oh Jeremiah and I go way back," The guy says as he continues rinsing the cloth in water and cleaning up my face. "I don't think he killed your parents." I don't know what it is about him that made me feel safe, comfortable.

It was the first time someone believed me when I said that Jeremiah hasn't done anything, because he didn't. "I'm Ash," he says as he puts his hand out for a handshake. "And you and I are going to get out of here very soon."