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Hey pals! I hope you’re all doing well! I’m really excited to be working on this story again. I hope you’re all enjoying it.
ETHAN’S POV:
I wake up on Monday morning to a staff member telling me breakfast is in 15 minutes and to join the rest of the kids in the Group Room to eat. I roll over in bed, wishing this was all just a bad dream, but knowing it wasn’t. After CPS showed up at my house, they asked me questions about my scars and bruises. I wanted to lie, but I didn’t know how well that’d work out, or if it could end up getting my mom into some kind of trouble. I thought about the look on her face when I had entered the house. She looked so broken. I took a deep breath, and signed what had been going on (one of the CPS workers was fluent in Sign Language. Apparently Caroline had mentioned my condition when she called them). After that, I was told that there would be an investigation into my step-father and that I needed to go to a psychiatric facility to deal with my self-harm and depression. So, here I was, laying on a hard mattress in a room that smelled like hand sanitizer, wishing I could be anywhere else. I force myself out of bed and pull on some sweatpants (they had to cut the strings off, so they were a little baggy) and a loose-fitting T-shirt. I use the bathroom, but don’t even bother with my physical appearance before trudging into the Group Room for breakfast.
Most of the other kids are already here, so I grab the food container with my name on it and find an isolated seat in the corner. I eat a little, but I’m not very hungry, so I show one of the staff members how much food was left (They apparently need to keep track of our food intake here) before throwing the rest away. After breakfast, we have group. They check in on everyone’s moods (I give a thumb in the middle to indicate that I’m not the best, but I guess this beats being with my step-father) and we do an activity about positive coping skills. After that, I go back into my room and read on my bed.
At around 11am, I get a knock on my door. A staff member tells me I have a visitor. I go into the visiting room to find my mom waiting for me. This is the first time I’ve seen her since CPS showed up. She runs to me and throws her arms around my body. I stay still, not hugging her back. She lets go and looks me up and down. “Baby, I am so sorry,” she’s crying already. “How could I have let this happen? How did I not know?” Her whole body is shaking and tears are pouring down her face. My heart shatters. I can’t stand seeing her like this and it just happens, “It’s not your fault, Mom.” Her crying stops abruptly and she looks up at me. “Did you-” she searches my face with her eyes, as if trying to figure out if she had somehow imagined it. “Did you just…?” “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I said it’s not your fault.” She bursts into tears again and I’m back in her embrace in seconds. This time, I don’t resist. I hug her back. So many feelings well up inside me and now I’m crying too. We stay like that for a while, just holding each other and crying.
GREYSON’S POV:
I get to school on Wednesday morning, my hair and clothes a mess. My eyes are baggy from lack of sleep and I feel like I’m going to keel over from mental and physical exhaustion. It’s been four days since I’ve seen or heard from Ethan. I’ve texted him so many times, I probably seem like a stalker. After he ignored me all weekend, I figured I’d at least get a chance to try to talk to him at school, but he’s been absent every day this week so far. I drag my feet as I walk to homeroom, having very little energy to hope that he’s here today. When I get into the room, I see that his seat is empty. I sigh and flop down in my own seat. Suddenly, my attention is drawn to the hallway when I notice someone talking with the guidance councilor there. “He said his locker is number 308 and he gave me the combination so I could get his books for him.” It’s Ethan’s mom. I recognize her from that time I saw Ethan FaceTime her at his house. I sit up straight and strain my ears to eavesdrop on the conversation. “No worries, Mrs. James. His locker is right against this wall, and I’ve collected homework from all of his teachers to send to the hospital.” ‘Hospital?’ I think, my eyes widening. My heart pounds in my chest as I think about all the reasons Ethan would be in a hospital and all the horrible ways he could be hurt. “Thank you so much,” Ethan’s mom tells the guidance councilor and opens Ethan’s locker. The bell rings and I sprint out of homeroom without even grabbing my stuff. “Mrs. James!” I sputter when I reach Ethan’s mom. She jumps a bit, looking startled. “Sorry, can I help you?” She asks, looking a little confused. I mentally face-palm when I realize she has no idea what I look like. “I’m Greyson,” I introduce, holding out my hand for her to shake. “Ethan’s boyfriend,” I add for clarification. A huge smile spreads across her face and she takes my hand in both of hers and holds it for a moment before letting go. “Greyson! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Ethan’s told me all about you. Well… as much as I can get out of him,” she laughs and I join in before realizing why I approached her in the first place. “Mrs. James-” “Dianne,” she cuts me off. “Please, call me Dianne.” “Dianne,” I correct, “Is Ethan okay? I’ve been texting him all week and he hasn’t been answering and at first I thought I did something, but then I heard you talking about a hospital and-” I speak so quickly I can barely understand myself. “Oh, sweetie,” Dianne’s face becomes kind of sad and comforting, “Why don’t we go sit and talk?”
She gestures to the school lobby and we sit on a bench and talk. She tells me that CPS showed up at their house and Ethan was hospitalized for mental health reasons. She doesn’t give too much information because she says it’s Ethan’s business, but she wants me to know he’s safe. She puts a hand on my shoulder and I realize I’m crying. “But wait,” I look up at her. “Why did CPS come to your house?” “Ethan said he thinks one of your moms noticed some scars when he was changing his sweatshirt,” she says and my Mind floods with a mixture of emotions, the main one being anger. How could my mom do this?
I say goodbye to Dianne a little abruptly and walk quickly out of the front doors of the school. As I’m walking, I dial Mama’s number. She picks up on the third ring. “Grey?” She sounds worried. “Is everything alright? You’re supposed to be at school.” “Did you report Ethan to CPS?” I demand. There’s a pause. “Mama?” She takes a deep breath. “I was worried about him, Grey. I noticed some marks on his-” “He was fine!” I shout, cutting her off. “I was helping him. He was doing fine.” “Baby, he wasn’t fine. I know he was your boyfriend and you want to help him and I am so proud of you for being so kind and caring, but Ethan needs professional help and to be taken out of that situation.” I pause. “What situation?” I ask. “Whatever situation gave him those bruises,” she answers. “Bruises?” I ask. “I thought you were talking about his self-harming scars.” “Well, those are certainly concerning, too,” she says, “but I was also worried about the bruises I saw when his shirt lifted up in the laundry room.” Silence. It’s Mama who eventually breaks it. “You didn’t know, did you?” My answer is almost too quiet to hear, “No.”
After ending the phone call with Mama, I sit myself down on the curb outside the school and force myself to take deep breaths. Bruises. Ethan had bruises on his body. I shake my head to rid it of thoughts of all the awful ways he could have gotten them. Hot tears stream down my face, but I’m too distracted to wipe them away. I can’t believe I didn’t know how much my boyfriend was suffering. I need to see him so I can tell him how sorry I am and try to find some way to make this better. I take my phone out of my pocket and call Mama again. “Hey sweetie,” she says gently. “Hey Mama.” I apologize for how I had spoken to her before. Then I ask the question that’d been on my mind since I first heard where Ethan had been sent. “Can you take me to visit him?”
So, there you go! I really am glad to be back with this story. I started it a few years back when I was in a pretty low place, and I’m happy to say that I’m in a much better one now and I think it will help turn this story into something much better than it could have been before I took a break from writing it. I hope you’re all enjoying the story. Please remember to vote and comment.
Wear sunscreen,
A.J.
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