Run to Me

Into The Lion's Den

It felt strange to be heading back to the city. I had hoped to never go back, leave the past where it was and move on. With each mile I drove, I felt the memories all flooding back. Cops showing up all the time, at the flat, my work, even at my school as a kid. No scrap of my life was untouched by his dodgy dealings. The worst part as I grew up, was people who knew him, especially the cops, seemed to tar me with the same brush. I wasn't Athena Summers, I was Carl Summers, the criminal's daughter, I guess they decided to live by the idea of 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'. I never crossed that line though, I never had any desire or need to. Uncle Jack had taken a chance on me, and it allowed me to step out from that shadow, and become who I was as a person.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jett asked, looking over at me.

I sighed, my grip on the steering wheel tightened as I swerved into the fast lane.

"Bad memories." I said flatly, putting my foot down harder and speeding past three cars in the next lane.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

I nearly swore aloud. I wanted to slam on the breaks as it dawned on me, but I resisted the urge, thinking the motorway wasn't the best place for an emergency stop.

"I'm so sorry. You shouldn't be coming back here." I said, taking a quick glance towards him.

He was staring ahead through the windscreen, his jaw was clenched tightly, and his knee was bouncing up and down in agitation. I could only imagine what was going on in his head right now, my bad memories weren't a patch on the ones that must have been filling his head. Returning to the place that held so much past heartbreak. I hated that he was doing it because of me, because of my drama.

"I wasn't going to let you face this on your own." He said warmly, turning to face me and managing a soft smile. "So, come on, you know my bad memories, want to share the ones you're reliving?"

I changed lanes again to avoid a large lorry that had just joined, and seemed to be unwilling to pay attention. I was reluctant to share the thoughts in my head, it felt like nothing in comparison to what Jett was going through.

"Hey, we all have our pain, it's different because it's our own, but it's never less than someone else's."

My brows arched in surprise at the strong sentimentality of his words. I glanced over at him again, seeing him staring intently at me, he seemed a little more relaxed, but his leg still bounced up and down at speed.

"Wow, who are you, and what did you do to the real Jett?" I asked, winking at him quickly and then refocusing on the road.

"Very funny. I mean it, maybe it's time for you to let me in."

He had a point, given how much that he had confided in me, he still knew very little about my background.

"I was four the first time I remember the cops showing up at home. Well I say showing up. They kicked the front door in."

I recalled the memory from the depths of my brain. It was pretty hazy around everything else, but I remembered the sound of shattering wood, and the shouts of the police officers.

"It became a regular thing as I grew up, they seemed to show up so often that they might as well have moved in."

"What about your mother?"

"Well, she wasn't a bad mother, just an absent one. It was a rough estate, she tried her best, but it wasn't always enough. As I grew up, she got different jobs, none lasted that long, but it meant she wasn't really around."