Life is full of cruel twists of fate. Sometimes those twists are happens-chance; no one knew it would happen, they didn't really deserve it, but it happened and now they have to keep moving, picking up the pieces along the way. Those are the lucky ones. Then there are the twists that no one can fix because they sort of just build and build while people pretend they don't exist until all of a sudden the rope snaps and it leaves one winded, but in a sense, less so because they saw them coming from the start. There are just things that start to show little by little and someone gets this feeling like something's wrong, and then, whoosh, everything's different and it can't be fixed because nothing's actually broken, it's just... wrong. 

"She has no right! Just look how thin and malnourished he is!"

I have always wondered if there was a way I could have prevented everything. Running away, stealing money to pay the bills... suicide, maybe, if I had the courage. I had plenty of theories. All of them would have been better than living with a distant, drunk mother who saw me as a nuisance more than a son. Maybe it would have been better if I'd never been born. I was the reason my parents split up, the reason my mother was unable to pay the bills on the house. My mom even almost died giving birth to me. After all I had caused to my own family, I didn't really have any right to be alive. My mom knew that, that's why she treated me like I didn't belong in her home. My dad knew that, that's why he left me with her in the first place. But most importantly, I knew that, that was why I kept my head down when I needed to, and my mouth shut. The least I could do was acknowledge my own wrong existence and try to make amends. 

"With all due respect, you had the chance to take custody after yours and Mrs. Green's divorce, but you didn't. You chose to release all custody to Mrs. Green. How does that make you any better a guardian?"

I only had one reason to enjoy life, one redeeming element in my life that gave me courage to keep up the facade. A friend, my best friend. But that friendship turned into a lie and any hope of redemtion turned away with it. It was just fake and I regretted ever thinking I could make it work.

*******

"Want to hang out this friday?" I asked.

"Why not hang out now?" My best and only friend, Connor, slung an arm over my shoulders. "We have plenty of time, right? Your parents aren't home."

I hesitated, knowing he had things in mind that I would rather not do. I began to protest. "Yeah but-"

Connor didn't let me finish."Come on, let's go!" He grabbed my arm and tugged me towards my house, grinning. My stomach churned unpleasantly. I hated when he came over, I didn't want to go. But I couldn't protest and let him pull me along until we made it back to my mom's place.

"When will your mom get back?" he asked as he pushed me inside and closed the door.

"Probably a couple hours..." I said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Good," Connor said, and he shoved me into my room. I tried to avoid the bed, but he was still holing my arm and easily pinned me down. I looked away, ashamed and embarrassed that I could find my voice to tell him no as he kissed up my neck and tugged to get my shirt off.

I hated this. My throat itched uncomfortably where he had kissed the skin and my chest hurt where his hands touched. I didn't want it this way; it wasn't real. This thing we did was nothing but a lie. I had agreed to being in this sort of relationship with the hopes of feeling loved and cared for, something I never recieved from anyone else. But there was no love behind it, just lust and greed. It didn't work.

"Hey, are you paying attention?" Connor asked.

I glanced at Connor realizing I had been lost in my thoughts."Yeah. I was just thinking," I said.

Connor didn't like that my focus had been elsewhere and he shoved his lips onto mine forcefully, allowing no room for argument. I felt like gagging and squeezed my eyes shut. There was nothing when we did this, no feelings. It was just meaningless sex and it disgusted me when our lips touched. I wanted to push him away, but as much as I wanted to stop it, I couldn't stop it. I didn't have the strength to tell Connor how I truly felt. So, I shut my eyes tight and waited for it to be over. Hopefully, today would be quick.

*******

With a deep sigh as the adults fought above me, I pulled my legs up onto my chair and stared at the floor. This had been going on for hours and I had come to the conclusion that my mother and her lawyer would never relent until my father agreed to pay her, and my father and his lawyer would never pay her just to help me. I was exhausted from the trials and debates. I wanted to sleep just so I wouldn't have to keep hearing their voices bickering back and forth anymore. However, I had learned long before that sleeping to avoid one's problems never sovled anything. If anything, I'd just wake up with more chores to do afterward.

"He needs a real home. Not some hovel filled with parasites and drunkards," my father said, insulting my mother for what she was. "He needs me and I'm not going to let you keep treating him the way you do."

I glanced at my father and saw he was glaring at the woman who had spent the better part of my life pretending like I didn't exist or telling me if I wouldn't stop crying she would throw me out. That woman looked uninterested, glancing briefly at her polished nails that she definitely couldn't afford on her own salary, before back at my father. "Treating him? What ever could you mean? I barely see the thing. He's always too busy hiding like a rat," my mother said, giving me a sideways glance that I avoided the best I could. She snorted as if this proved her point.

My dad's lawyer stepped forward to keep my dad from losing it. "After getting permission to do a health check, we found bruises and cuts over his abdomen, ribs, wrists, and face. He has also suffered several minor concussions that have not been treated or dealt with." The lawyer pulled out a file and held it up for the judge to see. "While the cut wrists can be assumed as selfharm, the bruising is impossible for his small frame to have accomplished on his own," he said.

"He fell down the stairs," my mother said.

"I'm sorry, but with as lightweight as his body is, a fall down the stairs would have done much less damage," a doctor, who had been called on as a witness said.

My mother glared at me as if this was my fault, her eyes full of more hate than I'd seen in a while. I looked away. "You can't prove anything. No one actually saw him being injured. You can't acuse us without evidence," my mother said, crossing her arms.

"Actually..." the doctor said. I closed my eyes and tried to block out their voices. When would this be over. I hadn't been in trouble in a long time, I didn't want to be blamed for this like the time when my math teacher at school had seen my third black eye in the same month and went to the principal. The longer this went on, the more angry my mother would be when we got home. But the doctor seemed to find little pity for me and continued. "We also found marks on his neck that resemble hands," he said. "All we'd have to do is measure to confirm the size-"

"I will not allow that," my mother said quickly.

The judge raise his eyebrows at her. "Why not? If you didn't do anything, then there should be nothing wrong with them taking a quick measurement and seeing that you're innocent," he said.

My mother scowled at the judge, her eyes narrowed. They had her cornered and even she wouldn't be able to get herself out of this one. Guess we know who's winning this time, I thought to my self as the judge called for a break of session.

*******

With my chin in my palm and bile in my throat, I sat in the unfamiliar car that smelled like pine trees and stared out the passenger side window. I was being brought back my dad's house so I wouldn't have to continue living in "an environment unfit for children", as the judge had said. I would have to collect my things from my mom's place in a couple days. Not that there was much. But my dad said he would provide me with whatever I needed.

The car ride was blissfully silent for several minutes of driving until my dad spoke, ruining the semi-peace. "So, what school do you go to?" he asked, attempting a smile.

I glanced at him and then back out the window. "A school," I said.

His smile tipped down in a frown and there was another long stretch of silence before he spoke again, "I heard you're turning sixteen in a few months," he said. "So big already. I seemed to have missed alot."

I didn't look at him that time. Instead, I sat back in my chair with a glower at the floor mat at my feet, "Yeah," I said. "You did."

He seemed discouraged by my attitude toward him and he sighed, dropping the nice act. "I'm sorry, Jacob. I know I haven't been there when you needed me," he said. There was a pause as he waited for me to respond. When I didn't he looked at me hopefully,  "But I'm here now? I want to be here for you and I want to make up for lost time."

I crossed my arms, my facial expression remaining as impassive as before. "Well, you have sixteen years to make up for," I told him. "Got some work to do, don't you?"

That was enough to cut the chatter and the rest of the drive was silent. When we got to my father's house, I got out and followed my dad inside, protectively clutching the bag of clothes I had been given to change into for after the hearing. I was given a room on the second floor and told that dinner would be ready in a little while. "I don't have much to choose from, but is mac 'n cheese okay with you?" my dad asked. I shrugged halfheartedly as I looked around the room. My dad deflated and told me he'd call me when he was done cooking.

Once the door to my room was closed, I sat on the soft bed, that was much bigger than the tiny child's bed I'd had back at my mom's, and sighed deeply. It didn't feel familiar. I didn't know if I would be able to sleep or if I'd lay awake all night tossing and turning on the foreign surface. A hot meal would make me drowsy, I was sure, but I wasn't sure if I had the stomach for food just then. I feared I may throw up if I tried to eat.

I could feel my anxiety start to overflow and I pulled out the medicine the doctor had prescribed for me when I had been given my first exam a few weeks prior. He had said I could take it whenever I started to feel overwhelmed with anything. When I refused it the first time, he had gently pressed it into my hand and told me that I should hand onto it if I needed it. I'd only used it once before, but it had worked surprisingly well and I decided one every now and then couldn't hurt. Not the way medicine got to my mom, at least.

After taking the medicine, I closed my eyes and breathed as evenly as I could. There was nothing wrong, I told myself, I was fine. When I had calmed down enough to hear my own thoughts again, I could faintly make out the sound of dishes being used downstairs, and a moment later, my dad called me down for dinner of microwaved mac 'n cheese. I wasn't hungry, but I figured I might as well humor the man who had abandoned me. It was the least I could do for the man who had done nothing for me.

*******

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