Help Wanted **DISCONTINUED**

Abilities

He looked at my hand clutching my arm, then back to my face.

"Uh, sure." he said, almost uneasily. He stepped back and opened the door wider, motioning me to come in. I stepped inside slowly and analyzed my surroundings.

The walls and rooms were all neatly decorated, a modern glow given to each individual furniture piece. As soon as I came in, I noted the roominess of the hallway. Warmth blanketed around me, and I felt more at home in my neighbor's house I barely knew, rather than the house I was raised in my entire life.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your arm? And why did you come here?" Mr. McLaughlin was very curious, and I didn't blame him.

I pulled my hand away from my arm and shut my eyes tightly. I moved my arm closer for him to look. Instead of a gasp, which is what I thought I would hear, I heard an unbelieved "Hmmmm." I opened my eyes to see my arm. The sad yet wonderful truth was, it was painless, bruise-less, and completely normal.

"I-I swear, it was like, sprained or broken when I last took my hand from arm." My worried eyes moved from my arm to my neighbor's concerned, mint-green on-lookers. "I'm not lying. I promise, Mr. McLaughlin. My arm was, it was hurt." I added quickly. Everything was so confusing. I was on the verge of a break down, but Mr. McLaughlin interrupted me.

"It's okay, Sloane. I believe you." His soothing words calmed me down. "C'mon, you seem like you need something to drink."

I followed him into his kitchen and sat down at the kitchenette table. As he began to get me a drink, I glanced at my arms. No cuts, no bruises, no burns. It was like I was never abused at all.

I watched him closely as he put some ice in a glass and got water from his refrigerator door. As the water slowly filled the crystal-clear cup, I realized how dehydrated I really was. He broke the forever going silence with, "By the way, just call me Rhett."

The cup filled about three-quarters of the way when he stopped. He walked over, quickly but carefully, and handed me the water. I took a large sip of the wonderful drink while he spoke. "So, can you tell me why you're here, and not back home?"

I set the cup down with a shaky hand. "I need your help." I replied quietly.

"With what, Sloane?"

I tried to tell him, but I just couldn't. "I'm sorry, Rhett. I just, I can't tell you."

Rhett moved his hand over mine, but I pulled away swiftly. "Sloane, you seem like you've gone through some sort of ordeal. And a bad one at that. But, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

I sighed deeply. He was right; I hate it when adults are right. "Fine."

I paused and took another sip of my water before continuing. "I've never told this to anyone before, so you have to promise not to tell a soul. Not one person. Got it?"

He nodded and waited for me to go on. "I'm abused. I know, I don't look like I am, but I am. I used to have cuts and bruises and burns, but somehow they disappeared. Before you assume that I'm completely insane, listen to my story."

I took a deep breath and explained everything to him. I told him about my mother, my father, and even some of the incidents that have happened between us. By the time I was almost done with my story, I was wiping tears from my eyes. "I know that you probably don't believe me, but, you have to. You're the only person I can come to right now."

"I believe you, Sloane. I believe you. But, why me?"

"Because I knew you have kids. I figured that sense you're a father, you'd know what to do." I looked around at my surroundings to see no kid's toys at all, as well as no sign of his wife's existence. "Where are your kids? And Mrs. McLaughlin?" It baffled me to know that he had two young boys, yet none of there toys could be seen anywhere. And it was just as dumbfounding to know that his wife didn't leave a trace of her being, either.