Broken Promises

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Oliver had been trying to talk to me every day for the past week, and each time he tried, I kept walking away. There were still rumors floating around about he and I having a thing going on which made Brody break up with me, and people were still talking about my brother. To put it lightly, school was a living nightmare.

It was the end of the day, and Melissa were at the mall getting our nails done. We hadn't talked in a while, and she asked me about everything that was going on to me. I summed it up to her and told her everything, leaving out the part about Rodney and Oliver introducing my brother to him. It wasn't that I didn't trust her enough. It was just that I didn't want her involved in it.

I was in the middle of drying my nails when I got the phone call. My mother sounded frantic on the other end, and with her quick words, I couldn't understand what she was saying. I told her to calm down and speak slower so that I knew what she was saying.

"Adam is gone."

Those three words took me off guard, and at first, I didn't know what to say. "What are you talking about?"

"Adam isn't in rehab. He snuck out."

Adam snuck out? That wasn't possible, was it? They had a bunch of security that it made it nearly impossible to get out. Honestly, this rehab facility my parents took him to was worse than prison.

"What do you mean he escaped?" This wasn't happening. "There's no way."

"Just come home." She hung up.

Without saying anything else – Melissa pretty much figured it out – I payed for my nails, making sure to leave a tip, and left. But not without a quick apology to Melissa. I got in my brother's car and drove carefully, but quickly, home. Didn't want to keep my mother waiting.

Mom was in hysterics when I walked inside the home. Dad was trying to comfort her by rubbing the back of her hand, telling her to be quiet and that everything was going to be okay. They didn't even acknowledge that their daughter was home. I stood there, leaning against the wall. Honestly, I didn't even know what to say. Or how to feel. There was so much about my brother I didn't know, that this little bit of news didn't even surprise me.

Finally, my mother lifted her head. Her eyeliner and mascara was smeared under her eyes, strands of hair sticking up everywhere, pupils dilated. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying for a while now, that much I guessed. She ended up pulling me into a hug, where she started crying again.

As many times I had ever cried in my life and had people comfort me, I didn't know how myself. But, as she sobbed into my shoulder, I couldn't help but cry too, especially when realization of what happened finally dawned on me. My brother had escaped rehab, and nobody knew where he was. But there was one person who had to know, but I really didn't want to call Oliver. I was still very much angry at him.

Dad slipped off into the kitchen, where he soon returned with a box of tissues and some water. My mom and I pulled apart and grabbed some tissues, and we both wiped out eyes. She grabbed the water from my dad's waiting hands and took a sip, and then offered me some. I shook my head.

"We got the call thirty minutes ago," my father stated, guiding my mother to the couch. They sat down and she rested her head on his shoulder. "They're making a police report."

"Why?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Since he's not eighteen yet, they still count it as a runaway. He's not emancipated," my mother croaked. "We called Oliver, but he has no idea where he is or where he could be."