Too complicated

Too complicated: Part 14

Y/n POV:

You know that patronising look adults would always give you as a child because they assume you're just too dumb for them? That was the look Mrs Dawson was giving me know. And I promise you, with all the strength in my body, with all the will power I have in my bones, I resisted the overwhelming urge to get up from my seat, and punch her right there and then between the eyes.

Mrs Dawson: And what proof could you possibly have?

I rubbed my hands on my trousers, the sudden rush of fear drenching me. It was a long shot, I know that, but...I have to try.

Y/n: He's a narcotic user.

I'm staring down at the lightly brushed mahogany desk that sat in between Mrs Dawson and I, feeling the movements of her gently shutting her files and pushing them aside, folding her hands in front of her.

Mrs Dawson: He is involved with drugs?

I nod slightly, my eyes still fixed on the little bumps and grooves that spread across the desk. Tom places his hand on my thigh and I catch his glance for a brief moment before turning back to Mrs Dawson.

Y/n: He umm... he kept a stash at his house. I found it once by accident when I was trying to hide Noah and I from him.

I see Tom shaking his head in my peripheral vision as I stare into her eyes trying to reach inside her thoughts and convince her I was telling the truth. I hadn't the slightest clue as to what she was thinking. She would be an impeccable poker player, her true emotions masked well behind her stone like exterior, rough and impenetrable.

Mrs Dawson: Miss Y/l/n, this is an extremely heavy accusation.

Y/n: I'm aware.

Mrs Dawson: And do you honestly think that you can deliver sufficient evidence for your claims?

She asked me, and I swear I could detect a hint of concern wavering in her voice.

Mrs Dawson: If your allegations prove to be false, you may risk the possibility of losing Noah's custody forever.

I take a moment to process everything. She was right. This was my last chance in getting my little brother back, and if I fail, who knows how long it'll be before I get to see him again, get to hold him whilst he lays asleep in my arms, get to make him his favourite pancakes in the mornings, get to protect him like I promised our parents I would. I look back up at her, her once stern and unforgiving eyes softening at the sight of my glassy ones.

Y/n: I know. But I'm desperate here.

I wouldn't say things were travelling smoothly from then onwards. I would have thought situations like this would have taken time, a few weeks, possibly a month or two. But plans moved very quickly, almost too sudden for me to be able to keep up with. Tom and I sat in the back of one of their cars, the two child services officers mindlessly chatting about the latest office drama, completely oblivious to the constant heartache their colleagues were putting me through. I zoned out of the car, blocking out their conversation as I stared blankly through the window. The familiar roads and corner shops of the busy streets dragged up those dreadful memories. I felt sick to the stomach watching the glowing signs and bustling life circulate on its continuous cycle as I remembered the emptiness such a lively city had brought me. Tom gave my hand a squeeze which causes me to look up at him, his gentle eyes and loving smile trying it's best to warm me up from such a cold and dark place. I unbuckled my seatbelt, sliding along the cool leather seats and closer to him. He held my hand as I rested my head on his shoulder, realising how much I truly needed him in these moments. Maybe I do love-

Tom: Are you scared?

I inhaled deeply and rattled the nasty thoughts seeping into my head again away.

Y/n: Terrified.

Tom: Are you sure he has a stash there?

Y/n: It's been a while...but I know he always kept some there. The third tile to the right of the bathroom door. If you pushed it up slightly, you could hide something as big as a safe in there. I checked most nights to see if it was still there, and sure enough it was replaced by a new stash every week.

Tom: And you're not worried that maybe...he's different?

Y/n: I know you said people change Tom. And...I do believe you now. But people change, not monsters.

We ride the rest of the journey in silence and as we arrive to the house, something inside me simultaneously leapt and sunk. Noah was in there, this was the closet I had been to him for such a long time. I practically ran out of the car, Tom needing to hold my hand back so the officers could knock on the door first. I reluctantly stayed back as I heard slow and heavy footsteps approach from within the house. The door flung open and my heart froze as I saw the man I hated most in this world stand before me.

Officer 1: Good evening sir, we work with child services and have been issued a warrant to search the premises. May we come in?

Ray: A warrant? For what? You can't just-

And then at last, his eyes trailed down the pathway and met mine. Oozing with anger and hatred, he grunted at the sight of me and was pushed aside by the officers as they made their way inside.

Ray: Of course it's you. Got yourself a little bodyguard huh?

He spat spitefully looking at Tom.

Y/n: Don't worry Ray we'll be out of your hair shortly, once I get my little brother back.

I say with as much confidence as I could muster up and shove past him as I entered the house of such awful memories.

Noah: Y/n?

I turned at his voice, the sweet little voice I missed so dearly. I see him and immediately he rushes to my arms as I pick him up and spin him around. As I place him down he runs to Tom, embracing him tightly before turning back to me.

Y/n: I've missed you so much.

I say as I hug him once more.

Noah: I missed you too.

He holds onto me tighter as we feel Ray coming past us to search for the officers roaming around his house. Tom followed closely behind him ensuring he wasn't doing anything suspicious in the mean time.

Noah: Can I come home now?

Y/n: Hopefully Noah I...we just need to be hopeful.

He nods and at the call of my name, we both look up the stairs.

Officer 2: Miss Y/l/n, a word?