The DuBois

Zach

I was so excited! Bianca offered to take everybody out for ice-cream, which is a huge treat in my family because usually she makes us eat healthy. My problems were forgotten as I pulled on my jacket already thinking about which flavor I was going to get. We were just walking out the door when Andrew came storming into the room.
He was angry, that much I could tell. I didn't understand why until I spotted the folder he was holding. My eyes widened. That wasn't just any folder, that was my folder, the one Quinn had stolen for me. How did he find it?
"I need to see Zack," he stated.
"We were just about to go out for ice-cream, maybe after we get back you could talk to him," she suggested.
"No. Now." He said it in such a way that there was no room for argument.
Bianca gave me a sad look, and I knew that I wouldn't be going with them to get ice-cream. "We'll bring you something," she said.
"Rocky Road, please," I whispered.
She gave a slight nod and herded everyone else out of the house. The door shut with an audible click. I turned around. Andrew was standing there seething. "Where did you get this?" he stated dangerously calm.
I wasn't a snitch. "I found it."
"Could you be a little more specific?"
"On the floor."
That wasn't the right thing to say because the next thing I knew, I was on the floor holding my hand up to my throbbing cheek. He punched me, I realized.
"Don't try to lie to me! You took them didn't you!" he yelled, then his eyes narrowed. " Or are you trying to cover for someone?"
He must have seen something on my face because suddenly I was hoisted off the ground and my arm was twisted behind my back. "You will tell me now if you value the use of your arm," he whispered in my ear.
"There's nothing to tell," I said. My arm was twisted violently behind my back, and I heard a loud CRACK!, and then I felt pain. I dropped to my knees, hugging my now broken arm to my chest.
"You will tell me eventually," he said in a sinister voice that held promises of pain if I didn't give him what he wanted. He left the room, leaving me huddled on the floor.
I got up and ran. I ran and ran until I was outside standing underneath my tree. I tried to climb up the tree, but it didn't work well with a broken arm. When I fell on my butt for the fifth time, I heard laughter. I looked around but didn't see anyone. I tried to climb up to the familiar branch, becoming almost desperate for its comfort, with the same results.
I heard the laughter again, and then a voice. "It would be easier if you used both arms," the voice said.
"That's kind of difficult at the moment," I said showing my arm dangling limply at my side before hugging it back to my chest when a shot of pain went up my arm.
"How did that happen?" it asked.
I debated how much I should say before deciding on the truth, "My father did this to me."

---

I was sitting in my tree next to a boy about the same height as me with light brown hair, tan skin, and a set of eyes that didn't match. He was dirty. It made sense because he told me that he had been living in the woods behind my house for nine months after his father had done to him the same thing my "father" did to me.
"I can set that for you if you want," he said. "I have some first aid equipment at my camp."
"That would be great, thanks," I said.
He dropped to the ground and then helped me down before leading me to his camp.
It wasn't spectacular, but it served it's purpose. There was a tent that he told me he had lifted from someone's garage. There was a fire pit and a water barrel. I thought it was amazing that a kid my age did all this.
"The first aid equipment is in here," he said leading me into the tent. He sat me down and started unpacking gauze and bandages from the kit.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"This is going to hurt," he said as a searing pain was sent up my arm followed by a sense of numbness.
I blinked the darkness from my eyes. "Was that your answer?"
"I can't tell you in case you try to turn me in."
"I wouldn't do that."
"And how do I know that? I only met you an hour ago," he said as he wrapped a thick layer of gauze around the broken appendage.
"If that's why you're worried, why did you bring me back to your camp?"
"Because I know what it feels like to be abused. To feel like you're the only one in the world who is and or has gone through this. I remember feeling so hurt and alone. When my mom divorced my dad, she took my sister. All my other relatives were either dead or living across the country. Eventually, I couldn't hide the bruises on my face or laugh off the broken arm by saying I fell off my bike. I was in so much pain. My dad pulled me out of school, and said he was going to 'homeschool' me. I couldn't even escape to school anymore. It was a constant cycle of torture. Finally, I just left. I ran away. There was a search for me, but my dad told them that I had actually gone to my mother's on the third day of the search. I've been here ever since," he finished, his voice cracking.
He looked up at me, and I saw it. I saw the pain, the loneliness, the sadness, and the fear. He just looked so broken. Without asking for permission, I gave him a hug. To my surprise, he hugged back. We stayed like that for a few moments until he pulled away mumbling something about this being "awkward" and that he shouldn't be telling "some stranger his personal problems".
"I should go back now," I said. "My mom will be home soon."
"Okay."
He took me back to my tree. As he was turning around to leave, I called after him. "I'll be back tomorrow! Will you be here?"
With his back to me, he gave a nod of his head and disappeared into the forest's shadows. I had a feeling that we were going to become great friends.

Quinn pov