Trigger warning. Child abuse and neglect. In no way is this glamorizing or using these topics for views and attention. If you're experiencing anything like this, please speak up and get the care you need. I'm always here to talk and offer advice x

They're in an unfamilair house. Kacey doesn't even know what town they're in. The drive from the hospital was a good two hours, though, so she knwos they're far away from where they used to live. She isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.

He mum, Christine, was smoking in the car. It made Kacey cough. She's still smoking now, as she texts someone Kacey doesn't know on her cracked phone, cigarrete between her over-lined lips, smoke drifting from it in grey, almost white, swirls.

Kacey stands by the wall with her bag in hand, the things Remington and Andy got her at the bottom in hopes that her mother won't find them and burn it all. She remebers how she had entered their phone numbers into her phone as soon as she was given it. She was waiting in the entrance of the hospital for some time for Christine to show up. Remington waited with her. He told her the phone numbers off by heart, and she gave him his, which he wrote on his hand. He promised to give it to Andy incase she lost theirs.

The whole house seems smoky. Whoever they're staying with is obviosuly a smoker, too. She wonders what he'll be like. She knows it's a he. It always is. Man after man after fucking man. All of them smokers, most of them alcoholics, just like her mother.

It's bland inside. The walls need a new layer of paint and there are no paintings or photohraphs on the wall. Not like in Remington's room. God, she misses that room. The drawings, the colouring book. The safety. There's none of that here.

"Mum?" She talks up, scared of the response she'll get. The woman did not seem happy to be picking her up today.

Christine looks up from her phone, blowing smoke out of her mouth. "What?" She snaps.

Kacey flinches. She should be used to it by now, but it still makes her so fucking scared. "Where am I sleeping?" What she really wants to know is where her room is, but she knows there's a good chance she doesn't have a room. In past houses, she's had to sleep on the couch, or in some office room with a thin blanket and a single cushion.

"Do you expect me to think of everything? Use your brain."

God, she's so fucking cold. Kacey looks down at the rucksack in her hand. "Sorry."

"Where's Carl? CARL!"

The girl flinches again. She feels so defensless. She's in a house she doesn't know, in a town she doesn't know the name of, with a man she's never met and and an alcoholic, chain smoker of a mother. All she really wants is Remington to whisk her away and tell her it's okay, that he'll look after her. But that won't happen. She's never gonna see him again. He's too good for her. Too pure and kind and talented. She's just pathetic. Scared of her own mother.

A man, Carl, comes in. He's a tall man, muscular but fairly thin, with messy hair and cigarette between his fingers. "What? Oh, who's this?"

"She's the kid, Carl, I told you I was getting her today. Fucking mental hospital won't just keep her."

Does she even remember my name? Kacey wonders, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself crying. "Hi," she whispers.

"Mental hospital? Do I have a psycho in my house?"

Christine seems bored by the conversation. She presses the end of her cigarette to an ash tray to put it out, dropping it into the little bowl and shrugging. "Bitch tried to kill herself with some pills. Failed, as usual. She's depressed, apparently. You'll have to watch out you don't leave a noose lying about."

His repsonse to this is to chuckle and roll his eyes. "All that bullshit depression shit, huh? Attention seeking doesn't look good on you, sweetie."

Kacey feels sick. "Sorry," she says again. It's the only thing she knows how to say.

"Philip's going to the club tonight. You wanna go?"

The woman shrugs again. "If it means getting away from her. What's in the bag?"

Oh no, she's gonna find the things Remi got me. "Just clothes."

"Bullshit. What's in there?"

Kacey holds it to her protectively. "Clothes," she insists, but it's no use. It's snatched from her by Carl, who rips the zip open and tips the bag upside down. "Please don't break them," she begs.

Picking up one of the colouring books, Christine shakes her head angrily. "Who got you this?"

"No one."

"Don't fucking lie."

She clenches her fists to try and stop herself crying. "Someone at the hospital, because it was my-"

"WHO?"

Kacey jumps. It's never been this bad before. She's never been this scared before.

Christine throws the book on the floor. "YOU FUCKING ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!"

Her heart is in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

"OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND TELL ME WHO GOT YOU THIS!"

"Remington did."

"Who the hell is Remington?" She picks up the pack of gel pens, pulls three out and snaps them over the kitchen counter behind her. Kacey blinks rapildy to try and stop tears.

"A friend."

The woman laughs suddenly. "You don't have friends," she torments, "why the fuck did you keep these? You don't deserve nice things."

"Sorry."

"You're a fucking disappointment." The words come with a kick to the stomach. Christine has never hurt her before, not physically. It's terrifying. 

Kacey stumbles and wipes her eyes, a hand on her stomach. "Sorry," she says again, thinking about how different things would be if she was with Remington and not Christine and Carl. She watches as everything the two men gave her are destroyed, crying but trying not to, and is so thankful that she kept the card with their numbers on in her pocket. If her mother found that she'd be even more angry than she already is. The twenty pounds is in her pocket, too, and there is no way she's letting them see it. She needs it.

Christine and Carl get bored and disappear out somewhere after ruining all the things that were in the bag. Alone in the house, Kacey checks for her shitty phone and the money in her back pocket, and leaves. She doesn't know where she is but she can't be in there. She's had enough of being treated like shit. She hadn't realised how bad it was until she met Remington and realised that he treated her right. That he loves her and he cares for her and that her mother does not. And it's not okay anymore.

Kacey walks with her bag and what's left of the things they destroyed. She stops when she gets to a sign with a road name on it, sitting on the wall and pulling her phone from her pocket. Her only hope is that Andy will answer her. Otherwise she's lost and hopeless and she might as well jump infront of a bus.

Her fingers are shaking. She hadn't noticed. With the phone held to her ear, she hears it ring, and breathes out when the man answers. "Hello? Kacey?"

The girl tries not to sob. "Andy?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright?"

Remington was right. He sounds so fucking kind and loving. "She hurt me."

"Where are you?"

She looks up at the sign, reading out the name written.

Andy is already leaving the house. "Alright, stay there. I'm coming to get you. If anything happens, I need you to call the police, okay?"

"Okay. How long will you be?"

"More than an hour. You're not gonna get cold, are you? Is there anywhere nearby you can sit inside? A cafe or something?"

Kacey looks around. "There's Costa. Should I wait in there? I've got the money from the card to buy something."

Andy opens the car door. "Yeah, do that. Buy yourself something nice. If anyone asks why you're there alone, tell them you're waiting for your dad."

The word dad makes Kacey's heart jump. "I will. Thankyou. Sorry."

"Don't say sorry. I'm on the way. Weldone for calling. That was the right thing to do."

"What if she finds me?"

The man sits in the car and closes the door. "Fight against her. Make it known that you aren't safe with her. Don't let her take you back with her. You're gonna be okay. Sit tight."

Kacey walks to some traffic lights to cross the road. "Okay."

"Stay safe, Kace. I'll be there soon." Andy hangs up, starting the car and praying for the girl as he drives, staying just under the speed limit for the whole journey. God, he's hardly met her and he already loves her.