Average

Chloe Greene is- to the naked eye- a completely average teenager. She has built walls so high that she can hardly see over them.
With an abundance of issues; medical and mental, Chloe has a hard time trusting. The only family she has is her three incredibly protective other brothers, which is enough for her.
It isn't until a social worker takes Chloe out of her brother's custody and into a foster home that things get messy.

0Likes
0Comments
261Views

1. Chapter 1

“Remember, tell us if something happens.” Cole reminds for the thousandth time.

“I know Cole.” I sigh as we walk out to the car.

‘We’ meaning my three brothers and I. We are quadruplets and look very similar.

“You know? Because the only reason I knew about Trisha was because I saw her hit you.” Damon argued.

“We can and will beat someone up for that.” Chris tells me.

“I’m aware.” I deadpan. I swear, my brothers are ridiculously overprotective sometimes. I guess it's probably good they are, without them I would have been killed a million times by now.

We reach Coles car, he is the only one who passed his driver's test. Damon passed the tactical exam but bombed the written portion. Chris just doesn’t have the coordination, and me… I’m epileptic. So I’m not allowed to drive.

Cole immediately gets driver's seat, Damon is the next oldest so he goes in the passenger side, Chris is stuck in the back with me.

“You are literally two minutes older than me, why do you get to be in front.” Chris grumbles as he tries to position his legs so they aren’t so uncomfortable.

All of my brothers are 6”3’ so it’s hard for them to be in back. I fit perfectly because I am only 5”2’. You can say I drew the short stick on the gene pool. My brothers are graced with height, muscle and, as they so humbly put it, ‘Sexy Ass Bods’.  While I’m stuck with the size of a fifth grader, straight as a board and epilepsy. We all have light brown hair and bright green eyes so the boys look scarily similar.

“And you have your pager?” Cole asks me. I hold up the little device. It’s about the size of m y palm and grey. It comes complete with two buttons. One labeled, ‘HSIGTHAS” (Holy Shit I’m Going To Have A Seizure) and the other, “HSIATGP” (Holy Shit I’m About To Get Pummeled).

My brothers are big believers in vulgar language.

“And your phone?” Chris asks. I hold up my phone. Just incase I need it for some reason.

“This isn’t my first day of school guys.” I sigh.

“It’s the first with the new medication.” Damon points out. Just this weekend my doctors put me on a new drug to try and stop the seizures, I haven’t had one yet, but then again, I just got the new stuff yesterday.

“Can I just never go to school ever again? Like ever?” I whined, leaning my head against the fogged up window.

“I volunteer to stay home with her! I volunteer as tribute! ” Chris and Damon shout in unison.

“Sorry dudes, I’m supposed to be your legal guardian and shit so you have to go to school.” Cole sighed. He got emancipated from our parents and took custody of us after the incident.

“Heh Heh I’m sick.” I faked.

“Dream on baby sister, dream on.” Damon sighs. “I must of tried a thousand times-” Damon cuts himself off when he realized the flood gates he just opened.

“TO TELL YOU I’M SORRY, FOR BREAKING YOUR HEART, BUT IT DON’T MATTER, IT CLEARLY DOESN’T TEAR YOU APART ANY MOOORRREEE!” I scream sing.

“God are you done?” Cole groans.

“HELLO FROM THE OUTSIDE! Yeah i’m done now.” I finish.

“It’s a good thing I love you.”

“You couldn’t hate me if you tried.” I chirp.

My brothers scoff in unison as Cole pulls up to the school.

“Remember the pager Chlo.” Damon yells as he runs to his first period class. I’m guessing he didn’t do the homework so he will do it in class. My brothers all are popular, they are jocks and have girls swooning at their feet.

Each of my brothers have a pager identical to mine. It comes with a tracking device so they can find where I am.

“Bye.” I tell Cole and Chris as I head to my class. History first. I have a permanent excusal from P.E because seizures can come from stress, lack of sleep, lack of nutrition and excessive physical exertion.

“Hi Mrs. Monty.” I say waving to my history teacher. She is a tall, thin woman with a stylish bob cut. She always the most bizarre outfits, but manages to look fabulous.  

“Hey Chloe.” She replies smiling. She lets me come in early and help her grade papers since I don’t like to hang outside because that makes me the perfect target for bullies.

“Can you grade the starters?” She asks me, plopping a pile of papers on a desk.

“Sure.” I shrug. After a few minutes of trying to decipher absolutely abysmal handwriting, the bell rings. I got about half the stack done.

“Thanks Chloe.” Mrs. Monty sighs, “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I live to serve.” I solute. Since I have history first period, I can just dawdle on back to my seat.

The class fills up slowly until the last delinquent is seated.  

“Well today…”

---------------

I breathed out a sigh of relief as the fourth period bell rang. It’s lunchtime now! I walked to the canteen where I have to meet the trio.

I am one of the only ones in the school who packs their own lunch. I have to be very careful about fat and salt intake because my brain can only handle so much of either.

“Chloe!” I hear Cole shout above the din. He is sitting at his usual table, which includes Damon and Chris, as well as Nathan and Justine. Justine is my only girl-friend, but being basically raised by boys, it doesn’t bother me too much.

I plop myself down between Cole and Justine. Justine has long blonde hair and the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen.

“Hey Chlo.” Nate says. I wave back and open my inconspicuous brown bag. I pull out my apple and start munching on It. Conversation settles around the table.

“Did you catch the game yesterday?” Cole asks Nate.

“Yeah, the joust?” Nate asked

“No… the football game.”

“Oh, I rooted for the blue knight.” Nate shrugged. That was his very comedic answer whenever someone tried to talk sports with him.

My favorite thing about him?

Our Natie-poo was gay! Like super, crazy proud gay. He always tries to give me a makeover but it’s always the same ‘no’.

I shift my dog tag around on my neck, the little beaded chain always leaves little indentations on my neck. The metal portion says, “EPILEPTIC” in big letters, then my doctor's phone number. I always feel like a dog when I wear this, which is all the time. Like some crazy person named their dog Epileptic and stuck it on a tag.

Of course, if I wasn’t medically obligated to wear it, I wouldn’t.
I was thoroughly disappointed as the bell  rang. I packed up and threw away my trash. Time for english!

-----------

After school, I headed out to Cole’s car. It was a little old, but it ran fine. We got an inheritance as soon as Cole emancipated himself, but it wasn’t enough to be extravagant.   

“Hey slut!” A high pitched nasally voice called. I didn’t even need to look up to know she was talking to me.

If anyone in this exchange was a slut, it was Trisha. She is always hitting on my brothers and claiming I am stealing them from her. I am about as innocent as… like a snow white daisy. While she is like a decrepit slut-flower.

I know I sound like a self righteous bitch, but it’s true.

“Trisha.” I acknowledge.

“Listen bitch, you had better stop making me look bad in front of Cole, or Damon, or Chris. I want to bang at least one of them.” She says. “They all look the same anyway.”

“Okay, one, EW.” I shudder “Two, Chris has dimples and Cole is a Quarter of an inch taller than Damon, who has gold in his eyes.” I state. This may seem weird, but we are quadruplets, plus they use me to settle arguments of who has better ________.

“Just shut up bitch!” She screeches, punching my stomach. I concave while she snickers and walks away in her killer high heels.

I straighten up and try to erase any evidence of the altercation. I casually lean against the car and try to appear nonchalant.

“Ready Chlo?” Chris asks as he reaches the car. Cole is trailing behind him.

“Where’s Damon?” I ask

“He got detention.” Cole replies, unlocking the car door. Chris is beside himself with excitement as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“It’s not like you’ve never been in the front before.” I laugh.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to tackle Damon to get it this time.”

I laugh louder because for a while, it was a fight to the death of who got the front seat. After Chris had to get staples in his forehead, a pact was made that Damon would get the front seat.

“So all clear today?” Cole asked me once we were driving.

“Yeah, I felt a little funny after second period, but it was nothing.” I shrug.

Before I have  seizure I get little warning signs. First is the shakiness, then my throat feels like it’s closing,  then a huge headache. Usually I call the boys when I feel my throat tightening.

Cole considers the information and turns the radio up.

“Can we watch ANTM?” Chris asks.

“You want to watch America’s Next Top Model?” I asked him, trying not to laugh.

“Yes! Nate got me hooked and I need to know if Alicia gets through!”

“I have the strangest brothers.” I laugh.

“I am perfectly normal.” Cole recites in a robotic voice. “I like bread.”

“I think I’m the most normal one in this quartet.”  

“Suuure.” Chris and Cole say in unison.

“You guys have to stop that, it’s creepy.” I yell.

“Do what Chloe?” They ask in unison again.

“That!” I throw my hands in the air dramatically.

“Okay, we’ll stop.” They chime in unison, just to freak me out.

Later that day, after Chris has had his fill of ANTM and Damon has walked home, we gather in the living room to play monopoly. I almost never win since I save all of my money for one property but end up forgetting about it so I never buy anything.  

“I win!” Damon shouts. I fall back onto the carpet dramatically.

“I just forgot to buy any properties. Can I get an award for that?” I groan.

“Sorry baby sister. I’m just that much better.” Damon says ruffling my hair.

“I’m four minutes younger than you.” I deadpan.

“Four minutes is a long time.” Chris says.

“And I’m only two minutes younger than you.” I point out.

“Whatever, just go to bed you idiots. It’s almost ten.” Cole laughs.

“Okay, love you idiots.” I say giving each of my brothers a hug.

“Love you too idiota.” Chris says.

I skip up to my room and grab my pajamas. The room is pretty dark so I can only see the outline of my furniture. The light bulb went out yesterday but we haven’t been to the store in a while.

I change and slide into my bed. I always make my bed in the mornings, I can’t stand it when the covers are messy.

My eyes feel heavy as I set my alarm for 7:00. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

-------------------------

------------------

“Sorry!” I apologize as I run into someone on my way out Cole’s car after school. I end up falling flat on my ass.   

I look up, not expecting to see what I do. It’s Andrew Peterson. AKA school bully, rumor spreading extraordinaire. I have a bit of experience with that part of him.

“Hey freak.” He laughs. I stand up quickly, so quickly I almost fall over again. “What do you say me and you go to the janitor's closet, I know you’re a regular there.”

“Shut up Andrew.” I murmur and try to push past him.

He stops me by pushing my forehead back, causing me to topple over. I fumble for my pager and press the ‘Holy Shit I’m About To Get Pummeled’ button.

Andrew’s goons show up behind him. “Let's show this bitch to respect her superiors.” He says before punching my left cheek. His stupid ring creates a long gash down my cheekbone.

One of his goons kicks my stomach, causing me to concave. Andrew pulls me up my shirt collar and gets up into my face.

“Not so brave are you?” He taunts as I cry. One of his hands gropes up my stomach and to my bra.

“No! Stop! Get off me!” I cry as he pushes me against the wall. I fling my arms around helplessly, I can’t kick him because he has my legs pinned. He catches both my hands in one of his and pins them above my head. He starts kissing up my neck while I cry and yell. Where the hell are Chris and Damon? Andrew starts to push me to a janitor's closet.

I scream loudly into the empty hall. Where are the teachers? I work one hand free and desperately punch both buttons on my pager, trying to get something to register. He yanks the thing away and crushes it under his shoe.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” I scream, hoping to attract some kind of attention. He pushes me unceremoniously into the janitor's closet and shuts the door, returning to me.

This can’t happen! Where the hell are my brothers? I scream continually until Andrew Covers my mouth with his hand. With his other hand he rips my shirt.  I jerk around below him and he pulls his fist up again.

Before He can bring it down, the door is flung open. I cry out in relief. Chris grabs  Andrew and throws him out of the closet into the abandoned hall. Damon rushes over to me while Chris threatens Andrew. (Cole had to stay home to do some legal stuff.) Andrew will have a few pretty substantial bruises by tomorrow.

I sob into Damon's shoulder as he slips his hoodie over me. Once Chris has beaten the kid to a near pulp, Damon stands up with me still in his arms. I vaguely hear Chris calling Cole and asking for a ride. We were going to go on the bus, but that didn’t happen. Both of them are fuming and I’m still crying.

I almost got raped.

Again.

We sit outside, waiting for Cole. Neither of them talk to me, which I am grateful or. I wouldn’t even be able to form coherent sentences right now.

I sit nestled between Chris and Damon, their arms slung around each of my shoulders.

Soon the car whizzes up to the curb and Cole storms out. He wraps me up into a big hug and I let him. I’m not one for PDA.

“Let’s go home.” Cole says. We all agree and head to the car. I don’t want to talk about what happened, it brought back to many memories.

“worthless.”

My stepfather’s flushed, sweaty face pops into my head, bringing back memories I don’t want to remember.

“Slut.”

I can still feel everything he did.

“You okay Chloe?” Chris asks. My eyes are squeezed shut and I’m trying to steady my breathing.

“I’m okay.” I say. I reach over and grab his hand, needing to be holding something. It’ll keep me grounded. We pull up to the house and we hurry inside.

“I’m sorry.” I blurt before I can stop myself. It’s an old habit I’ll probably never break.

“You didn’t do anything.” Damon assures. I curl up into a ball on the couch.

“I’m going to make tea.” Chris mumbles as he leaves the room. He has always been the slightly socially inept brother, but the most fiercely protective.  Cole took on the parental role and Damon is the typical teenage boy.

I’m me.

Together we make up The Greene Quad! Was that as pathetic as it sounded?

“You need to tell me what happened.” Cole says as he sits next to me. “We also need to call the police.” He says. I shoot up.

“No!” I shout. “Remember last time?” Cole sighs in remembrance. A few months ago, a different kid beat me up pretty bad, so Chris beat him up even worse. We went to the police, but the kids dad was chief of police. Chris, Damon and I almost got sent back to our parents, and we will if Cole can’t ‘Control Chris’. In fact, one more small thing, like excessive truancy will cause us to get shipped back to the hell hole we came from.

“We can’t just let him get away with almost raping you C.” He says.

“Andrew Peterson’s mum is one of the best lawyers in the state. We can’t do anything to him even if we did press charges.” I exclaim. “If anything, he would sue us.”

“I know.” He sighs. “I need the whole story so I can see what to do.”

“I bumped into Andrew in the hall after school, I tried to leave but he punched me,” I point to the cut on my cheek “then one of his goons kicked me and he pulled me up by the shirt and pinned me to the wall. He started like, feeling up my sides and… pectoral muscles, so he pushed me into the closet and ripped my shirt and then Chris and Damon came in.” I say “I tried like, a milion times to page them, but it didn’t seem to register for a while. I was also screaming like crazy. Oh, I need a new pager. He broke it in the closet.” I sniffle at the end, trying not to cry.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up then.” He sighs. I stand and walk over to the bathroom. From the medicine cabinet I get the hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls.

I clean the cut and put a big band-aid over it. As I exit the bathroom I walk right into Damon. He hugs me tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I didn’t get there fast enough.”

“Nothing happened D, you got there before he did anything.” My voice is muffled because he is squishing me.

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn’t do that enough when we were back with-” I cut him off.

“There was nothing you could have done about that.” I assure him. “Come on.”

I go to the tiny kitchen and start rifling through the cabinet. “We have no food.” I murmur.

“It still amazes me that you can eat as much as me, never exercise and stay as tiny as you do.” Chris laughs from where he is eating cereal.

“It’s a skill.” I say dramatically.

“There’s cereal on the top shelf.” Chris says.

“I thought we agreed to keep stuff on the lower shelves?” I grunted as I tried to jump for the box.

“It’s not my fault you’re a midget.” Cole says as he grabs the chocolate chips from the top shelf. The shelf right next to the cereal I was balanced precariously on my toes for.

“You guys suck.” I growl as I drag a chair over. “Why did I get all the bad genes? I’ve been a good person. Dammit!”

As I groped for the cereal my hand knocked it over, meaning I needed more height to grab it.

“Language.” Cole calls.

“Oh shut up and help me get the fucking cereal.” I growl.

“No can do Midge, I’m too focused on my delicious cereal to help you.” Chris taunts as he takes another bite of his heaping bowl. I sigh and climb off the chair. I plod over to him and grab his bowl.

“Hey!” He shouts

“Sorry, I’m too focused on my delicious cereal to help you.” I say taking a bite.

“You really did walk right into that one.” Damon laughs.

“Oh just shut up.” Chris whines as he gets another bowl.

“Some welfare lady is coming tomorrow, so we need to clean.” Cole tells us. I glance around at the living room, it’s pretty clean, just some soda cans and paper plates on the table. And the laundry I did a few days ago that my brothers have yet to put away.

“It’s not that bad.” Chris whines.

“They’re sending Mrs. Jones.” Cole says. We all groan loudly. Mrs. Jones is an old woman who is very against Cole being our legal guardian. She insisted that parents have the right to discipline their children as they see fit and that we were in the wrong for ‘Provoking Punishment’.

On her last visit, she saw a biohazard bag in the proper receptacle from my emergency shot, which I had had to take the night before.

She was convinced one or all of us were on drugs, so the little demon spawn shoved Damon, Chris and I into the back of  car to be returned to our parents, or at least to foster care or something.  The other welfare dude stopped her though.

“Fine, fine.” I grumbled and grabbed a trash bag. I took care of the garbage while Chris and Damon cleaned their pigsty of a room and Cole worked on vacuuming and mopping the whole house.

The house wasn’t much, three bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living/dining room. No basement or attic, but it’s not like we had a lot to store anyway.

It took about two hours to get the house perfect between the four of us. In that time, Cole went shopping so the cupboards wouldn’t be bare and I did the laundry. After Everything was done, I realized how tired I was.

“I’m going to bed.” I yawn “Goodnight.”

“Get up early, Demon Spawn is coming at nine o’clock.” Cole calls. I mumble an ‘okay’ and head into my room.

I replaced- okay, I got Damon to replace the lightbulb so I can see again. The light was only on long enough for me to change my clothes, then I hopped into my neat bed.

Hanging in the middle of my room was a green and yellow finger knitted rope I used to turn off my light without having to get out of my bed. I set my alarm for eight, which should be illegal for saturday.

Before I can even situate my pillows correctly, I am asleep.

-----

BEEP BEEP MOTHERFUCKER! BEEP FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING BEE-” I shut off my alarm, which I ordered from a catalog. Could I have found something more worth my money than a swearing alarm clock? Yes, but at the same time, no.

I jump out of bed and grab clothes. Jeans and a t shirt. I have to sprint to the bathroom to shower before my brothers get there. I wash my hair quickly, not wanting to face the wrath of preshower teenage boy B.O.

I hop out and get dressed. I don’t bother blowdrying my hair, instead I just pull it into a high ponytail and go to the kitchen for breakfast. Chris pushes me aside and trails into the bathroom as soon as I exit. I nearly asphyxiate from the armpit smell.  

There is already a stack of pancakes sitting on the counter, no doubt courtesy of Damon. He’s the only one who can cook out of us. I somehow managed to burn water. I don’t even know how, but I did.

“Hey guys.” I wave to Cole and Damon, who are eating. They barely look up from their food in acknowledgement. “Feeling the love.”  

After eating two pancakes the size of a small scandinavian island, I wash my plate and stick it back into the cupboard.

Cole slides the little orange bottle of meds over to me. I hate pills. With a fiery passion.

“Grow some balls and take the pill.” Damon grumbles.

“I’ll keep my female anatomy thank you.” I sass and swallow the little white devil with orange juice.

“Gross.” Damon scrunches up his nose.  

“8:54, we have one minute.” I say. Mrs. Jones is a firm believer in ‘If you aren’t five minutes early, you’re late.’

“Enjoy it.” Damon chortals. just then, Chris walks over with his hair still damp.

“Alright, positions!” Cole says. We all head to the living room on strategically placed couches.

Just at the proper angle to appreciate the wooded backyard through the clean glass door, but angled to discourage watching television. (Of course, as soon as she leaves we will move everything back to its original placement.)

As soon as the hand shifts to 8:55 the doorbell rings. Even if she is a demon, she’s punctual, I’ll give her that.

Cole answers the door to tall, pudgy woman who doesn’t even try to hide her distasteful expression.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll start with the home inspection.” She says without a greeting.

“Go right ahead.” Cole says with a very forced smile. She steps on the ground as if it’s covered in tarantulas instead of freshly cleaned carpet.

“Cleaner than last time.” Mrs. Jones almost praises, if it weren’t for the distasteful tone lingering behind her words I would have I thought she changed her mind about our living conditions.

She writes little notes on her clipboard as she pokes around the house, most likely ‘small speck of dust on left window sill’ or ‘excessive organic produce; look into possible child slave labor’.

“Damon is it?” She asks Chris.

“That’s me ‘mam.” Damon says from the other side of the couch.

“Very well, I’ll start the personal interviews, if you’ll come with me.” Damon pushes himself up from the couch and follows Mrs. Jones into the kitchen. This is when Cole flips out a little. He worries one of us will say something wrong  and we’ll get taken away.

“Don’t screw this up Damon.” I mutter so quietly I don’t even hear myself. Damon exits a ten-ish minutes later with an unreadable expression.

He sits next to me as Mrs. Jones waves Chris over.

Chris’s interview barely takes five minutes before he is sitting down and I’m being called in.

“Relax.” Chris tells me as I stand. I’m stressing myself out. I roll my shoulders back and head into the kitchen.

“So, Chloe, how do your brothers treat you?” Mrs. Jones asks, getting straight to the point.

“Great, they’re my best friends.” I say. I have come to learn that the sappier you are the more sympathetic they are.

“How did you get that?” She asks, pointing to my band-aid.

“Oh, uh, I, um, at school, somebody's ring accidently cut me in P.E.” I concluded. She raised her eyebrows, not buying my lie.

“How did your brothers handle the situation?” She asked.

“Uh, cleaned it and gave me a band-aid.” I said.

“How does it feel to be the only girl?” She asks. I shrug

“It’s okay I guess, I never knew anything different.”

“Would you like to have another female?” She asks

“Uh, not really, I have friends at school.” Lie.

“And your brothers, have they ever… touched you?” She asks with a sympathetic look.

“What? No! That’s ridiculous!” I say defensively. My brothers would never do that to me or anyone else for that matter.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t need to protect them.” She lays a hand on my knee and I flinch away instinctively.

“They would never do that! That’s crazy!” I shout at her. It may not be the best idea, but I can’t even fathom why she would think that my brothers would do such a horrible thing.

She sets her clipboard on the counter and I see one word that she circled.

Stockholms.

I gape at her. As she smiles sympathetically. “OH HELL NO!” I scream at her. There is a shuffling from the next door and suddenly my brothers are standing in the doorway.

“Chloe? You okay?” Cole asks.

“I don’t have Stockholm syndrome!” I yell. Mrs. Jones stands in front of me in what I think she assumes to be a protective stance.

“I am taking Chloe out of your custody.” Mrs. Jones tells Cole.

“Uh, no you aren’t.” I say as I try and move from behind her. She sticks a fleshy arm out to stop me.

“You can’t do that.” Cole says

“I fear for her well being, therefore, I can.”

“Let me go!” I cry as I try and move past her. She is a lot stronger than she looks, so she is able to hold me back.

“We are the most familiar with her diagnosis, any other people won’t be able to care for her the way we can.” Cole argues.

“There are plenty of foster parents with a clear understanding of Epilepsy.” She says.

“She’s our sister!” Damon interjects

“And I am her social worker, she will leave!” Mrs. Jones snaps.

Up to this point I have been crying and trying to move past this Demon Spawn but she won’t let me.

“You have one hour to pack and say goodbye. I will be back.” She says. I move past her and fly into Damon.

She and Cole have a shouting match that nearly knocks the house down. What finally gets Cole to stop is when she threatens to take Damon and Chris as well. Mrs. Jones storms back to the front door, flings it open and leaves.  

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Chris asks Cole for the thousandth time.

“I… I don’t know.” Cole looks absolutely helpless.

“Can’t we all just get emancipated?” I ask.

“No, Chris and Damon could, but there would be no way for us to pay for your medication without the insurance.” Cole says. He says something else too, but I stop  listening.

For the past 45 minutes I have been switching brothers, hugging and crying. I ran out of tears about ten minutes ago, and now I’m just putting off packing.

“They can’t just take me, can they?” I sniffle.

“They have to get a judge to sign the thing, so I’m guessing that’s where Demon Spawn is now.” Cole says.

“But, I won’t be able to handle it if they’re like Haydon and Marissa.” I cry. Haydon was my stepfather and he married Marissa after my mother died.  

None of us say anything for a few more minutes. I excuse myself and go to my room. I only stuff my few clothes, toothbrush, other bathroom-y stuff and my pictures into a bag. I stuff my medicine in a corner.  I cry as I head back downstairs.

Cole’s hair is messy, Damon has his face in his hands and Chris is nowhere to be found. I look at the clock and ind I have 22...21...20… seconds.

From the outside it may seem over dramatic, but you have to remember, my brothers have been my parents, my bestfriends and my protectors. My whole life, they have always only been one door down.

Cole gets up and hugs me. I hug back as Damon latches on and another pair of arms join in, I can only assume that’s Chris. We remain in the group hug until a knock sounds.

 No one makes a move to answer it.

No one moves as the door opens.

No one moves as Demon Lady clears her throat. “We have to go.”

“Please.” We all say in unison.

“We need to leave now.” She persists. With one final squeeze, my brothers let go of me. I know I have tear tracks down my cheeks, but it’s not only me. All of us do.  

“The judge gave you supervised visitation rights. You may see each other once a  week. Chloe will be switching schools, that has been taken care of by the state.” Mrs. Bitchface states.

“You can’t do this. You just can’t.” I say, my voice breaking.

“Come along.” She says.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...