Chapter 22

907 14 0
                                    


The younger boy shoves me down the steps of a basement in an abandoned building. I don't know but I think we might be in the Bronx or Queens. As soon as I tumble down the rest of the steps, the metal door slams shut with a loud clang. Crawling around on my hands and knees, I find a thin mattress and a few thin blankets. I sit on them a bring my knees up to my chest. Spot, please help me.

The door soon swings back open and the younger boy comes down the creaky wooden steps. He puts a lantern down on the floor next to the thin worn mattresses.

"Who are you?" I whisper to him.

"I'm Kieran. The other man is me and Sean's pop. I'm his younger brother."

"Why do you want me?" I ask softly.

"Because Pop wants Sean back."

"Kieran, you don't have to do this. You can let me go and leave Sean and me alone. Then, just go on with your life. We can get you away from that man," I explain to him.

"Whoever said I wanted to leave? I'm not Sean, he runs away from his problems without trying to fix them."

"That's not true."

"You wanna know the truth?" He spits," Pop would come home drunk after work and knock Sean around. Usually, it was Ma that he hit, but if she wasn't there, Sean was the next best thing. Then, Ma died of tuberculosis, so Sean was always the target. He would lock me, Kathleen, Theodora, and Reagan in a closet or his room. Even though we couldn't see it, we could hear."

"Where are the others?"

He ignores me and keeps going," Sean tried so hard to fight back, but he was so small compared to Pop. Sean would be covered in bruises and cuts, black eyes, and even cough up blood. Then, when he was eight, Pop came home so drunk that Sean was able to knock him out. Then, he left. He left us. He ran away! Then, Pop would start beating on Reagan or me."

Kieran goes back upstairs slamming the door behind him. In a few, I don't even know, hours, minutes, the door reopens. Great. Spot's father. He kneels down to me with the lantern light touching his face. His dirty calloused hands lift up my chin slightly.

"Don't touch me," I spit at him.

"I never thought Sean would be able to get a girl as pretty as you and a French one is a bonus. My son's future wife."

Wait what?

"Sean and I are only fifteen."

"That's the age me and his mother were married at. Sean's my oldest son-" I quickly cut him off," He's not your son anymore. You beat him."

His hand wraps around my neck and start to squeeze tighter as he raises me up. He stands fully up, making me as well.

"I'm different now."

"Bad people rarely change. You'll never get Sean."

"Then, you'll never leave here."

He lets go of my neck making me drop back down to my knees. He marches back up the steps and slams the door shut. He's right I'll never get out. I love you, Spot. I really do.

Somewhere // Spot ConlonWhere stories live. Discover now