Senior Year with My Protector | Protector 1.2

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Grayson

       I arrived at my home shortly after I left, sighing when I saw the cars in the parking lot. Everyone was home. Great. I was hoping I could slip in, pack everything, and leave without anyone noticing.

       I got out of my car and walked in my house. "Grayson, there you are!" Mom said. "We were so worried!"

       "Uh huh," I muttered, heading up the stairs to my bedroom. I reached under my bed, pulling out a large duffel bag and began shoving my clothes in there.

       Mom must have followed me up the stairs. "Grayson? What on earth are you doing?"

       "Leaving," I said, not even looking at her.

       "Excuse me?" Mom asked. "Grayson Alan Prince, you can't just leave because you feel like it."

       I zipped up the duffel bag and turned to face her. "I'm not leaving because I feel like it. I'm leaving because I need to be somewhere safe."

       "So what? Your home isn't safe?" Mom asked. "It's your home."

       "No, it was my home," I said, grabbing a smaller bag and putting everything else in it. "A home is somewhere where you feel safe, somewhere where you can trust everyone who lives with you. This is not my home."

       "I'm not allowing you to leave," Mom said, crossing her arms. "You're my son and you need my permission."

       "No, I don't," I said. "Need I remind you that I'm eighteen? And as soon as someone is eighteen, they don't need they're parents' permission to move out or do other things. I'm moving out."

       "And where are you going?" Mom asked.

       "Somewhere," I said. I didn't want to tell her exactly where I was staying because I didn't want to create any problems between my parents and Poppy's parents.

       I picked up the two bags with my right hand and walked down the stairs. Right as I was about to leave, someone roughly grabbed my left wrist. "Ow," I said, facing my dad. "It's sprained, can you not hold on so tight?"

       "Where on earth do you think you're going?" he asked, not loosening his grip.

       "I'm moving out," I said. "I'm allowed to. I'm eighteen."

       "You're not going anywhere," Dad said. "We're your parents and we say you're not leaving."

       "I am leaving," I said. "Just let go of my wrist. It hurts."

       "I don't care," Dad said. "You are my son and you are not leaving! This is your home!" His grip was tightening on my wrist, making it hurt like hell.

       "You're hurting me!" I said.

       "You are not leaving, got it?!"

       Gale was nearby and she did not seem happy what Dad was doing. She stepped forward, grabbing Dad's arm and pulling it away from me. "Dad, stop! You're hurting him! This is why he needs to leave!"

       "No," Dad said. "I don't care if he's eighteen. He is not moving out."

       "You know what, Dad?" Gale asked. "You shouldn't have a say in this. Nobody should. Grayson could have well gone to the cops the night you almost beat him to death, but he didn't. I could have, but I didn't. If you wanted to have a choice over what he does, you shouldn't have been what caused Grayson to have depression. He's eighteen so he gets to make his own choices. If he wants to move out, he's moving out."

       "I'll found out where he's going to live," Dad said. "He will not be moving in. Nobody will want to take him in."

       Gale scoffed and turned to me. "You have a place?" I nodded. "Go there. You're eighteen, you're allowed to move out." She then mouthed, Poppy? I nodded once again. If anyone had to know where I lived, it was Gale.

       "What?" Dad asked. "Gale, you are not in charge of him!"

       "And neither are you," Gale said. "It's the law. Once someone turns eighteen, they're responsible for themselves if they want to be. Go, Grayson. He can't stop you." She opened the door for me, and I left with much yelling from Dad. I ignored him, throwing the bags in my car before driving back to Poppy's.

       Poppy was waiting outside and when I pulled up, she walked over to the car. "How did it go?" she asked. "Was anybody there?"

       I sighed, getting out of the car. "Everyone was there. My mom didn't want me to go, but she didn't stop me. My dad on the other hand...." I held my wrist, which was starting to hurt again. "I'm probably going to have to ice this."

       "My dad will look at it for you," Poppy said. "I'll bring your bags in."

       I thanked her as she pulled the bags out. We walked inside, where Poppy called for her dad, Gene. "Dad!"

       Gene walked to where we were. "Yes?"

       "Can you look at Grayson's wrist?" Poppy asked. "Something happened and it's hurting a lot."

       "Of course," Gene said, gesturing for me to follow him to the living room as Poppy went upstairs to drop my things off in the guest room. I sat down on the couch and Gene unwrapped the bandage around my wrist. It looked really bruised to me and even the slightest touch hurt. "It's still just sprained. The best thing to do would be ice it for about half an hour ever three to four hours. Whenever you're not icing it, keep it wrapped in the bandage."

       "Thanks," I said as Poppy suddenly walked in the living room with an ice pack and tea towel. She sat down beside me, resting the ice pack and towel on my wrist. She wrapped her arms around mine and rested her head on my shoulder.

       "Now that you're both here, we need to go over the rules," Dad said. "Nothing too strict. No staying in each other's rooms with the door closed and, for the love of God, sleep in your own rooms. Other than that, nothing. Breakfast?"

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I said it was going to be short. (: At least Grayson is away from those who caused his depression.