2

"Have you made everyone's lunches?" Greta asked as she walked into the kitchen. She grabbed the mug of coffee that was on the counter.

I'd made it for her five minutes ago. It probably wasn't all that hot anymore.

"Yes, Greta," I replied.

Greta sipped her coffee as I finished making my own lunch. I wrapped the sandwich in a ziplock bag and then placed it in the plastic lunch box that I shoved into my bag.

"Did you clean the bathroom last night?" Greta asked.

I nodded at her, and she sipped more of her coffee. She screwed up her nose a little at the taste and rolled her eyes.

"This is awful. You could at least put in some effort," Greta sighed before pouring the contents down the sink. I bit down on my bottom lip as I nodded.

"I have study group after school... I won't be back until late," I mumbled to her. She raised her eyebrows at me questioningly.

She knew that I wouldn't be home after school. I was never home until late on Friday's. It was routine.

I told her I had study, when I actually had other plans. Plans that she wasn't allowed to know about.

"Fine. Don't expect us to save you dinner," Greta mumbled out.

I cleaned the kitchen counter before a long envelope landed in front of me. I looked up; watched Gregory wall into the room. He was Greta's husband.

He was also a drunk and very deeply despised me.

"From Jefferson," Gregory muttered grumpily. He left the kitchen, Greta following.

I grabbed the envelope and tore it open. The was of cash inside was secured by an elastic band.

I clicked my tongue. Mr Jefferson was too kind to me. He always sent me money, an extra helping hand. He was it should be classed as emergency money.

I never spent any of it. I hid it away, along with the rest of the money and other secret possessions I had. I was saving up to get the hell out of this place.

"Let's go! We'll be late!" I heard Mia call.

Footsteps followed, and children rushed into the kitchen. None of them thanked me as they took their lunches and rushed outside.

Mia handed me the keys and then grabbed her lunch and walked out the room. I sighed heavily, shoving my envelope into my backpack before leaving the house.

The drive to school was infuriating. Mia texted the entire time, and didn't say a word to me about the party or her plans to force me to come along. The children in the backseat shouted and yelled profanities.

I had a headache already and I contemplated crashing the car to make the kids shut up, but then I thought about how Greta would probably kill me if I did so.

I decided to stay on track.

"Why don't you have any friends?" Russ asked me from the backseat.

He was the junior, and the only person in the house who hated me more than Greta did. He was a pain in my ass.

Not only did he torment me all the time, he was plain rude and did all he could to make me hate myself more than I already did.

"Because she's a loser. Losers don't have friends," James said with laughter.

The others laughed and then I felt someone tap my shoulder. When I looked back at the review mirror, I saw that it was Russ.

"What?" I asked him.

He smirked. "I heard Greta and Greg falling last night. They're trying to get rid of you, trying to send you somewhere else far, far away. No one wants you around."

I clenched my jaw.

I was familiar with Russ telling me such things. Somehow, when I first arrived at the care home, he'd gone through my files and read everything about me. He knew about everything I had been through and he didn't care.

He used it against me.

"Not even your parents," James said.

I ran my tongue over my teeth as I tried hard to control myself. Part of me begged for me to turn around and slap those kids so hard that they didn't know what day it was, and the other part of me begged me to cry.

I didn't want to do either, and it was a struggle to keep myself calm.

"That's why they ran away from you, right?" Russ asked me.

I said nothing and looked over at Mia. She had her eyes glued to her phone. I knew she was listening to the conversation. She was always listening. She just never did anything about it.

"We're here," I said as I pulled into a parking space. Everyone got out the car and I sighed.

Everyday.

I grabbed my crumpled backpack from the back seat and got out the car. I gave Mia the keys and walked off, not wanting to think about the boys and they way they tormented me.

As I walked down the hallway, I heard whispers. Everyone was huddled together, talking quietly amongst each other for some reason.

When I saw my locker, I almost fainted at what I saw. The bloody boy pushed up against my locker.

He was bleeding terribly. Blood trickled from his nose and from the numerous cuts on his face. He was bruised, beaten and battered. He looked awful.

Holding him up against my locker by the collar was one of the most feared people in my school.

I didn't know his name, or anything about him. All I knew was that he was a bad boy, a player and was not to be messed with.

His friends stood around him, arms crossed, slight smirks on their faces. They didn't try to stop their friend from beating up the poor boy being shoved up against my locker.

"You owe me big time, Walters. If you don't have what I owe by today, you're dead meat," the bully said.

His voice was terrifying. It was deep and husky, very serious and threatening. He meant what he said, and the bloody boy knew it.

I choked on my fear as I watched them. They were all so intimidating, with their tattoos and their signature bad boy grins. I would hate to be one of their victims.

"Okay, okay," the bloody boy choked out through gritted teeth.

The bully released him, and the bloody boy ran. He sprinted down the hallway so fast that he almost knocked right into several people.

The bullies all looked at each other before one motioned his head in the direction of down the hallway. Then, they all turned and walked away together, no one speaking a word until they were no longer within ear shot.

I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding and shook my head as I rushed over to my locker.

///

I walked down the street quickly, realising I was later than I wanted to be. I was always late. The boys never I had somewhere to be, so they made sure they took a while in getting to the car after the bell.

I told Greta that I was going to study, but I wasn't really. I was going to the bench.

It was the same bench that I'd been going to since I couldn't remember. Every Friday, I'd sit on the bench until seven and I'd wait.

I'd wait for my brother.

He disappeared when I was young. He ran away and I was alone for a long time. When I saw him next, he told me that if we had to met, it needed to be in private. He told me that if he ever came back, that he'd meet me at the bench on Friday at seven.

He'd met me on the bench twice out of all the times I'd ever been there.

In the two times that I saw him, he went from being fine, to developing a drug addiction. I was worried about him constantly, but I knew that he would never stick around long enough for me to take care of him when things got bad.

I can't around the corner of the street and sighed when I saw that the bench was empty. I didn't really expect anything different, but it was still disappointing.

I sat on the bench and looked around the street. I stared at the group of people coming up the stairs from the underground subway. None of them were him.

I stared at the people crossing the road opposite me. None of them were him.

I stared at every single people that passed for hours until it finally started getting dark. The street lights turned on, and the street became busier on the Friday night.

I sighed as I rolled my shoulders. I knew he wasn't coming. But I was going to wait anyway.

A man sat next to me on the bench. I ignored him, continuing to glance around, looking for my brother. I was desperate to see him. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him.

It was his birthday two days before and I wanted to get the chance to say happy birthday before it was too late.

"What is a pretty lady like you doing, sitting here all alone?" I heard the man say from next to me. I turned to look at him.

What?

The man was tall, broad shouldered. He had tattoos on his arms. He looked tough.

Stronger than me anyway.

I didn't reply to the man, hoping he'd get the message that I wasn't going to talk to some stranger. I still strongly believed in stranger danger.

"Come on, baby. I just want to chat while I wait for my ride," the man tried again.

"I'm not in the mood to chat. Sorry," I said, my anxiety riding high.

What did the man want? He didn't want to chat. He was an older man, sitting next to me on a bench that nobody ever sat on. He was creeping on me.

"Why not, pretty?" He asked me.

I didn't say anything. Before the man could open his mouth again, I heard someone clear their throat.

I looked up, and I saw Stanley from the Italian restaurant behind me. He was a lovely man, despite his threatening figure. He was tall, muscles straining his shirt, and the tattoos all over his arms made him just that more intimidating.

He came out to give me food every Friday night. He was lovely, and angel sent from above. He treated me nice, and even offered me a job in his restaurant.

I would've accepted if it weren't for Greta telling me I wasn't allowed to.

"If I see you here, bothering this young lady again, I'll be calling the police. You got that?" Stanley said straight away, without a damn heartbeat.

The man nodded and said nothing as he got up and walked away, crossing the road. I sighed out heavily and looked back to Stanley.

He sat next to me and handed me a container of pasta. I thanked him as he handed me a fork as well.

We sat on the bench and we both ate pasta together. By the time we'd finished our meals, it was time for me to leave. I thanked Stanley, and then I left.