Skurdulka's House (a LGBTQ chosen-family thriller)

Part 25: Run

"Mr. Vandersen." Principle Visser locked eyes with Storm and waved his fingers, gesturing him forward. "Come here."

"Oh shit." Frozen in the hallway, Storm glanced sidelong at Chris. "What do we do?"

Chris glanced back. "I, I, I dunno." Their eyes darted past Visser and Keith, to the front doors behind the two of them.

"Come on," Visser urged again, as if he spoke to an indignant dog.

"It's okay, it's fine," Chris said, but didn't step forward. "He can't do anything right now, not with Visser there."

Storm looked over Visser and his father's face. Visser looked impatient, but not concerned—Storm had a feeling his word wouldn't mean much against his father's, not to Visser. And one look at Keith was all Storm needed; he was furious, glowering beneath red gashes and stuck-on bandages.

"Let's go. Ms. Stockwell, you too."

Chris exhaled through their nose. "Mx. Stockwell." Their shook their head, muttering, "Prick."

With Chris by his side, Storm started reluctantly forward. He barely fought the urge to grab Chris's hand.

"I just heard a very interesting story." Visser crossed his arms over his chest, inflating with a deep breath, the muscles in his forearms shifting. "Sounds like you've been away from home for a while."

Storm's quick heartbeat surged up, even faster. He shook his head a bit. "What do you mean?"

"You ran away from home six months ago and you've been living in some stranger's house," Keith snapped.

Visser raised his dark eyebrows. "Is that true?" His cold scrutiny slid over Storm.

"No," Chris said quickly. "He's been staying with me. I'm not a stranger, we're friends."

"Really?" Anger flared on Keith's face. "So that was your—father?—who assaulted me that night? When I was trying to get my son back?"

Storm felt the horror in his face, but, looking at Chris, their expression was cool and void. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The asshole who did this," Keith pointed a rigid finger at the cuts on his face, "to my face."

Chris's expression twisted with doubt and they scoffed. "Tch, how? Is my dad a tiger?"

Storm looked at his shoes. "Are you sure you didn't get into a car accident?" Taking a breath, he looked up, daring to meet his father's dark gaze. "While you were driving drunk? For the eight-hundredth time?"

Visser glanced at Keith. Keith shook his head and looked back, gesturing to Storm. "You see? You see what I deal with? He's just like his mother. Always telling stories."

"I'm not telling stories. And neither did she." Storm raised his chin, glaring at his father full in the face. "You're a mean, abusive drunk, and that's why she left you." He let the statement stand, not feeling guilty. "And that's why I left too."

Keith was silent a moment. His eyes were clear, he was utterly sober, but his gaze was dark with hate. "Your mother left because she's a lazy slut who didn't want to raise a thankless brat."

Storm knew he should've expected that. But it still felt like a slash across the chest.

"Sound like you guys have got some things to work out." Visser trained a disapproving look on Storm. Storm couldn't understand it—why was he the one to blame? It was confusing and infuriating all at once. "But he's still your dad, okay? You've only got one. And if your mom's gone, he's even more important. So, go home. Talk it out."

"What?" Storm took a step back. "No fucking way. I'm not going near him."

"If you don't, the cops will come and pick you up," Keith retorted.

"Yeah?" Chris stepped in front of Storm. "Why don't you tell the cops what you did to his face, you abusive fuck. You got what was coming to you." They took Storm's hand. "Come on, Storm. Let's get out of here."

Storm gripped them back hard. The surge of confidence he felt from their hand was like a lightening shock, surprising but welcome in its strength and warmth.

"Hold up." Visser put a hand on Chris's shoulder.

"Get off!" Chris batted him away and started walking faster. Storm kept up.

"Get back here!" Keith barked. He started forward.

"Come on!" Chris broke into a run, tugging Storm. It only took him a moment to realize, then he was running too, heading for the doors.

"You're not going anywhere! I'll find you!"

Keith's shout faded as the glass doors shut behind them. But Storm knew it was another awful phrase in his father's voice that he would hear for years after.  

#

Author's Note: 

Soupy brain has (temporarily) abated! (Maybe I should see how many typos I have here before I say that :0  Sorry for the confusion this week. Skurdulka's House is still Mondays and Suber is still Wednesdays, my brain was just tomato concentrate this week, idk wtf. 

Quick sidenote; the honorific Mx. is pronounced mix and it's the gender neutral version of Mr/Ms/Mrs :) 

One other thing, a question - are these little asides kinda, um... lame? Since I've recently discovered the update/announcement feature (yup, it took me this long :), it occurs to me that I could just put all of these in a nice little announcement, instead of littering up the pages. But I know sometimes update messages get lost too, so I'm torn. Thoughts? 

 Also, thank you for Luna (@ lunnegend on Insta) for this great image of Storm! That anxious look was perfect for this chapter. : ) : ) 

Visit again next week Monday to see what Chris and Storm (and maybe Ari) do about Keith, Principle Visser and possibly the cops. It's getting real in here, yall. We're getting close to the gripping climax :0