Chapter Forty-Nine

Age Twelve

Damian

T he mower’s engine rattles through my hands, each vibration numbingly familiar as it climbs up my arms. It’s the same sound I’ve gotten used to every day this summer.

I move in a steady rhythm, the sound pounding in my ears like an old, heavy heartbeat. Every line I cut into the grass is dead straight, each pass precise.

Even though it’s hard work, I am addicted to it because it helps shut off the world—to let the machine drown out the memories, the screams that still echo in the back of my mind.

My face is set, eyes fixed downward, shoulders squared against the sun that bakes my already darker skin.

The heat bears down, blistering, but I keep going. There’s nothing else I can do. If I stop, I might start thinking about it again.

My stomach growls, a hollow reminder that I haven’t eaten today, but it doesn’t matter. Eating would mean staying at the Samsons’ longer, and every minute there makes my skin crawl. I’d rather be here, mowing this yard, pushing through the sweat stinging my eyes and the aching dryness in my throat. It’s better than sitting around under the Samsons’ watchful, judgmental gazes or dodging their fists when they’re in one of their moods.

I can handle the beatings but their words… the rough words they spit out about my family… I can’t handle it. They treat me like I owe them for existing. And maybe I do. They feed me, after all. They make sure I’ve got a roof over my head, no matter how cold or cracked it is.

I’d give anything to leave that place. To leave behind the way they act all nice and smiley when some officials stop by. It’s all just a mask; underneath, they’re monsters.

I don’t know who this new kid is, the one they’re getting today, but all I know is he’s one more person they’ll torture. It makes me sick. I shake my head to concentrate on the present.

I keep my pace steady, letting the mindless task eat away the hours. I know the drill—trim every corner, keep the edges neat. Anything less will bring complaints and a few dollars less in pay. And I can’t afford that. I need that every bit of money to scrape by until I’ve got enough saved to make my way out of this town and leave the whole mess behind.

After an hour, I finally kill the mower. The yard is neat, the grass all level and even. I move to the driveway next, grabbing the hose and starting to wash away the dirt and grime.

I feel the aching fatigue setting in, the dull throb in my arms and shoulders. I swallow, the roughness in my throat nearly painful now as I trudge toward the house.

I barely make it to the porch before the screen door flies open, and there she is—Mrs. Marcel, her arms crossed, lips pressed tight.

I straighten up a bit, bracing myself.

“Thought I told you to stay outside,” she snaps. Her eyes rake over me as if I’m something unpleasant she found stuck under her shoe. She glances over the yard with a frown. “Are you done already?”

She’s in her sixties, maybe, with gray hair and a sour look that never leaves her face and a voice as sharp as nails.

“Yes, it’s done,” I say, my voice flat. I step back as she approaches, careful not to get too close, my hands shoved in my pockets.

I watch as she marches down the steps, taking her sweet time to inspect every inch of grass. She bends down to look at the edges, muttering something I can’t hear, just loud enough that I know she’s looking for any excuse to knock my pay down. Next, she examines her driveway.

I just stand there, silent, waiting, the sun beating down on me, sweat trickling down my back.

After what feels like forever, she turns back to me, her expression still sour and reaches into her purse, pulling out a few crumpled bills. She shoves them at me. “Here,” she says, her voice clipped. “Next time, try not to miss the edges. I’m not paying for half a job, you hear me?”

I nod and take them without meeting her eyes. It’s just a few dollars, barely enough for a meal, but I don’t say anything. I stuff the money in my pocket, my throat so dry I can’t swallow.

“Thank you,” I mumble, even though I know she couldn’t care less.

She looks at me with this half-sneer, like she’s just itching to say something else, but for some reason, she doesn’t. Just turns back toward the house.

When I first took this job, a few guys from the neighborhood warned me about the old lady—said she was racist. But I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. She was the only one without anyone else willing to work for her, so I took it.

I watch her go, fighting with myself. My mouth’s like a desert and my throat feels like sandpaper and the idea of pedaling all the way back to the Samsons’ in this heat without so much as a sip of water is intolerable. But asking her for anything feels like scraping up what little pride I’ve got left.

But my throat is burning, and the hunger clawing at my stomach isn’t helping the dizziness creeping in at the edges of my vision.

Still, I clear my throat. “Um, Mrs. Marcel?”

She stops, slowly turning around, her face screwed up like she’s already sick of me. “What? You need something else?”

I force myself to look at her, even though everything in me is screaming not to. “Could I maybe get a glass of water?” My voice sounds small, weaker than I’d like.

She stares at me, eyebrows raised, her lips pulling into a thin, scornful line. “You want water? I don’t recall including refreshments in the pay.”

“I… I just need a little.” I can feel the heat pooling in my face from embarrassment, sweat running down my temples.

She sighs, loudly, rolling her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fine. Wait here. And don’t go tracking dirt on my porch.”

I nod and move several steps back. With the sleeve of my already damp t-shirt, I wipe my face while I wait.

She’s gone for a while and I feel dizzy. My legs are begging me to sit on the step but I don’t.

After what feels like forever, she finally returns, holding a small half-empty bottle of water. The water is barely enough to wet my throat, but right now, it’s like gold.

She tosses it to me. “There. Don’t drink it all at once. And make sure to finish the job properly next time.”

I nod, unscrewing the cap as I mumble, “Yes, ma’am.” The water’s lukewarm, and there’s hardly any of it, but as it slides down my throat, it’s like the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I take a few tiny sips, forcing myself to save half for later, then screw the cap back on and shove the bottle in my backpack.

“Thank you, Mrs. Marcel,” I manage, even though she’s already turned and disappeared inside.

I head over to my bike, which is leaning against the side of the house. It’s old, the seat’s torn, and the handlebars are worn smooth from use. But it’s all I’ve got to get me anywhere. Swinging a leg over, I start pedaling, feeling every sore muscle.

The road stretches out in front of me, the sun still beating down, hot as ever.

Halfway down the block, I see a pregnant woman. She’s got grocery bags hanging off both arms, heavy enough that her shoulders are sagging. She’s struggling with every step, her face pinched.

Without thinking, my hands tighten around the handlebars of the bike. I skid to a stop, dropping my bike to the curb. I walk toward her, unsure if I should speak or if it’s right for me to ask. But the words come out anyway.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I start. “Do you, uh…need some help with those?”

She stops in her tracks and turns, her eyebrows lifting, and glances down at the bags, then at me. I must look like a mess—sweaty, tired. She hesitates, almost like she’s about to refuse, but I speak up before she can.

“Really, I can carry them. It’s no problem,” I say, keeping my voice polite. I stand there, waiting.

After a moment, she sighs, her eyes soften. “Well… if you’re sure. They’re just… a little heavy today.”

I nod, not saying anything more, and gently take the bags from her. They’re heavy, the handles biting into my hands and my muscles protest but I ignore it and start walking alongside her, adjusting my grip so they won’t slip.

For a while, we walk in silence, and she watches me with a curious look.

“I’m a little surprised,” she says, her tone kind. “You don’t see kids offering help like this so often.”

I shrug, keeping my eyes ahead. “You looked like you needed it. That’s all.”

She smiles. “Well, thank you,” she says softly. “It means a lot, really.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod and keep walking.

When we finally reach her house, she turns to me, a warm smile on her face. “You’re a kind boy,” she says. She reaches into her bag, pulling out a few bills. “Here,” she says, holding them out.

I shake my head, hands buried in my pockets. “No, I don’t need that. I’m just glad to help.”

She lets out a gentle laugh, pressing the money toward me. “I know, but you didn’t have to help me with all those heavy bags. Please, take it. Get yourself something, okay?”

For a second, I just stare at her hand, feeling a lump in my throat. Finally, I reach out and take the bills. “Thank you.”

She smiles, warm and gentle, and it’s almost like my mom is right there with me.

“You take care, okay?” she says, her voice soft, motherly.

I nod once, barely meeting her gaze. “Thanks. You, too,” I mumble, turning back to my bike. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face blank.

I swing a leg over my bike and push off down the street.

As soon as I’m out of sight, I throw myself into pedaling, pushing so hard my legs scream in protest with every shove. The wind bites against my face, merciless as I ride. It stings my eyes, and I grit my teeth, pushing faster, welcoming the sharpness. My vision blurs, and I tell myself it’s just the wind tearing up my eyes.

I push myself harder than I should, my calves burning, my lungs aching, but I can’t stop. I pedal faster, and faster, until the tears fall in streaks down my face.

I pedal harder even though I’m not moving forward from that day four years ago. I go faster even though I know I’ll never outrun the past.

◆◆◆

I make a stop before heading back to the Samsons’ house, dragging out each second as much as I can before stepping into that place again.

When I finally make my way to the yard, I spot Caleb and his pack of friends huddled together by the porch. Caleb, a year older than me with a smirk, spots me and strolls over, his friends close behind.

“Well, if it isn’t our little money-maker,” he smiles.

I clench my jaw but keep my hands at my sides, ignoring him. I move to pass him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my way. “Come on, Damian,” he taunts, reaching forward to pat my pocket. “Let’s see how much you earned today.”

His dad is out on the front steps, lounging with a beer, and I know better than to push back. I just stand there, looking past Caleb, feeling my hands curl into fists at my sides as he digs into my pocket and pulls out the crumpled bills I’d just worked for.

Caleb waves them around, his grin widening as he turns to his friends. “Look at this, boys. Damian’s got himself a little bonus. Too bad he doesn’t know how to share.” He pockets the money with a mocking laugh, and they all file back to their game.

I don’t say a word. I won’t give them the satisfaction. With a tight breath, I drag my feet through the door, the familiar smell of dust and stale air hitting me right away. It’s the same as it’s been for two years now.

I push past the hallway, hearing the muffled sounds of Caleb and his friends yelling outside.

I check the bedrooms, kitchen—empty. The bathroom—no sign of her.

I make my way through the house, my boots thudding against the worn floorboards. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. I pass the door to the backyard, and for a moment, I think I hear something. A soft voice, hushed.

I stop in my tracks, listening for a second. It’s coming from outside.

I pull the door open just a crack, careful not to make too much noise. And there she is. Summer. Sitting on the grass, her heterochromia eyes glittering in the light, her messy brown hair falling into her bruised face.

She’s not alone, though. There’s a small kid beside her. A boy, maybe her age, no more than seven or eight. He’s got his head down, his body slouched as if he’s trying to make himself disappear. His clothes are a little too big, and his hands are clasped tightly in his lap.

His fear is thick, palpable. It reminds me of how I was placed in a home after...

I watch them for a second, not wanting to interrupt. But then Summer looks up and sees me standing there. Her face lights up like I’m the only person in the world. “Damian!” she calls, her voice high-pitched.

I keep my expression flat as I walk toward her, but something tightens in my chest when she grins like that.

In my own fucked up way, I came to care for her because she reminds me of the baby sister I never got to meet, the one who never got the chance to take a breath, to live.

I stop in front of her, watching as she looks up at me with those two-toned eyes of hers. I reach into my pocket and pull out something and let them drop into her lap without a word.

My eyes soften as I watch her face break into a surprised grin as she lifts the candies and colorful hairclips. Her eyes go wide, and she beams up at me. “Thank you, Damian!”

I just grunt, turning to leave, but something makes me stop. I glance back at the boy sitting beside her, his head still down, shoulders hunched. I notice the faint bruises along his cheek and jaw, marks I know all too well, and I let out a low breath.

He hasn’t moved much. He hasn’t said a word this whole time, his hands nervously twisting together in his lap.

I don’t know if it’s because of me or because of Summer, but it’s the same kind of fear that I’ve seen too many times in my life. The kind that stays with you, burns itself into your bones.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a granola bar, dropping it onto the grass in front of him. I’d bought it earlier as a backup for tomorrow in case I got dizzy from working all day on an empty stomach.

He flinches, his eyes darting up to me, and I see the fear flash across his face before he shrinks back, like he’s bracing for a hit. My chest constricts at that, but I don’t let it show.

Summer nudges him, and he lifts his head slowly, his blue eyes wide and unsure.

I’m about to turn and leave when Summer speaks up. “Don’t be scared, Raleigh!” She reassures him. “Damian’s my friend, and now he’s yours too!” She looks up at me expectantly. “Right, Damian?”

Raleigh, the boy, finally looks up at me, his eyes wide with uncertainty. I don’t offer him a smile, but I try to soften my expression, hoping he’ll see that there’s no reason to be afraid of me.

I grunt, the words coming out rougher than I intended, “Stay away from Caleb. He’s trouble.” I pause, my jaw tight as I remember how they treat other foster kids here. “His dad—” I stop, finding the right words. “Just stay out of the living room in the afternoons. If his dad’s home, don’t make any noise. He’s… not someone you want to be around.”

I hear Summer’s voice, light and cheerful, trying to make the moment less heavy. “Damian’s always looking out for us. Right, Damian?”

I remain silent but glance at Raleigh again, my eyes hardening. I can’t stand to see that look in his eyes—the one where he’s waiting for the worst.

“Take care of yourself, all right?” I say, my voice low, almost like a warning. “And don’t let Caleb get to you.”

Summer grins up at me, her face lighting up like I’ve just given her the world. “Thanks, Damian.” I feel something inside me twist. Not for the first time, I wish I could give her more. Protect her from them. But I can’t.

Two days later, I head out toward the shed, just planning to rummage around for scraps—anything I can use to keep my bike’s handles from falling apart. But before I even reach the door, I hear it. Caleb’s voice, laced with that familiar sneer, slithering out through the cracks. There’s a dark, smug satisfaction in his tone that makes my heart sink.

I push the door open just a crack, just enough to see Summer and Raleigh pressed up against the wall, eyes wide as Caleb and his two friends tower over them.

Raleigh’s lip is bleeding, a thin red line trailing down his chin, and his eyes are filled with unshed tears. Summer’s frozen, her mismatched eyes wide, her small hands clutching the hem of her shirt in a death grip.

“Gonna cry, freak?” Caleb’s voice is full of a sick, gleeful taunt, his hand pushing Raleigh’s shoulder just enough to make him stumble.

Summer whispers something too quiet for me to hear, and Caleb’s face twists in irritation. He leans down, grabbing her chin, fingers digging in roughly, making her wince as he lifts her face to his. “What was that? Speak up, weirdo.”

Raleigh tries to pull her away, but Caleb’s friend shoves him back, and nudging him in the ribs hard enough to make him gasp, his small body crumpling inward.

“Not so tough, huh?” Caleb jeers.

My jaw clenches, fingers curling tight around the rough wood of the shed door. I’ve learned to turn the other way when Caleb pulls his stunts. I’ve learned not to react, not to fight back when he takes the money I’ve earned or pushes me around. But this…this is different.

Before I even realize, I’ve moved, throwing open the door, I stride toward them. Caleb’s head jerks up, surprise flickering across his face before it melts into irritation.

“Oh, look,” he sneers, letting go of Summer’s face. “The tough guy’s here.”

I don’t stop walking, closing the distance between us until I’m standing right in front of him.

Summer’s gaze flicks up, her eyes wide and hopeful in a way that cuts straight through me.

“Leave them alone.”

Caleb’s smirk fades, and for a second, he looks uncertain. Then he recovers, his face hardening as he steps up, jabbing a finger into my chest. “Or what? You gonna stop me, loser?”

I don’t respond. I simply grab his wrist, twisting it hard enough that he yelps, his face breaks into a look of panic. His friends gape, frozen, not used to seeing anyone stand up to Caleb.

“Get off me!” Caleb snarls, trying to pull his arm free, but I hold firm, a fierce calm settling over me. I can feel his bones shifting under my grip.

I don’t care that this is going to land me in trouble. I don’t care if this makes my life a hundred times harder. I can’t stand here and let him get away with tormenting two kids who don’t have a chance against him. He wants to throw his weight around? Fine. Let’s see how he likes it when someone turns the tables.

Caleb’s mouth opens and closes, his gaze darting to his friends, as if asking for their help. The other two boys exchange uneasy glances, starting to back away.

“You don’t get to hurt them.” I twist his wrist some more. “Am I clear?”

He whimpers, then nods faintly.

“Say it,” I say with a dangerously soft tone. “Say that you understand.”

His face twists, and he finally mutters, “Fine. Whatever, I understand.”

I release his wrist, watching as he stumbles back, cradling his arm and glaring at me. “You’re gonna regret this,” he spits before he turns and stalks off, his friends trailing after him, shooting me nervous glances over their shoulders.

The moment they’re gone, I feel my hands unclench, the tension draining out of me. I glance over at Raleigh and Summer, who are both staring at me with wide, awestruck eyes.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice softer now.

Raleigh nods, swallowing hard, and Summer blinks up at me with awe. A wobbly smile breaking on her face. “Thank you, Damian.”

A few days later, I find Caleb at it again. He and his friends have Raleigh pinned down, half-dragging him toward the small inflatable pool, his screams and struggling doing nothing to deter them. His arms flail, his small fists connecting weakly with one of Caleb’s buddies, but the older boys just laugh, mocking his desperate attempts to break free.

“Why are you even fighting, Raleigh?” Caleb sneers, shoving Raleigh’s head closer to the water, his intention to drown him clear. “Your mama didn’t want you, so she abandoned you and then the last family dumped you like garbage. I’m doing you a favor!”

He tries to twist away, but Caleb just pushes his head even closer to the water.

“Leave him alone!” Summer screams between sobs. She is surrounded by two other boys. One of them grabs her shoulder, pulling her close enough that she stumbles, her eyes darting around for any escape. She hugs her small body tighter, trying to back away, but they move with her, not letting her go. “Aw, come on, don’t be shy,” one of the boys leers, smirking as he leans in close. “What, you don’t like us?”

“Look at her, she’s terrified,” another chimes in, chuckling. “Guess she misses her mommy to come and hold her hand.”

A dark fury builds inside me, coiling tight, hot and vicious, spreading through every muscle. The kind of rage that blurs everything but the need to make them pay. My fists itch to crush, to shatter something, anything.

I stride forward, my steps purposeful, the pounding of my heart in sync with the thunder in my chest.

I won’t let this go. Not this time. They’ve crossed the line, and I’m done holding back.

The boys harassing Summer spot me first. These boys are new. Not the one I scared off last time. I move toward Caleb first as he’s shoving Raleigh’s head in the water. But one of them blocks my path. “I don’t think so,” he says, shoving me back.

I move fast, slamming my fist into his gut, making him double over with a grunt. I don’t wait, swinging again and knocking him to the ground. The other move in, and a fist connects with my face, splitting my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

I wipe the blood away with the back of my hand, eyes locked onto the bastard who hit me. I can feel the anger rising and I let it consume me.

As he winds up to punch me again, I’m already ready. I slap his fist aside with a swift motion, and before he can react, I bring my forehead crashing into his face. The sickening crack of bone hitting bone reverberates through me, and his eyes go wide with shock.

He stumbles back, dazed, but I’m not finished. My fist flies next, a brutal, unforgiving blow that connects with his jaw in a sharp, satisfying crunch. His legs give out as he crumples on the ground.

Caleb shoves Raleigh aside, eyes wide, ready to sprint as I stride in his direction.

I grab the collar of Caleb’s shirt, yanking him forward so hard the fabric digs into his neck. His breath hitches, eyes wide with surprise.

“What did I tell you, hmm?”

Before he can answer, my fist connects with his stomach, hard, knocking the wind out of him. He doubles over, gasping for air, but I don’t give him a second to recover. I shove him upright and deliver another blow to his ribs, just under his arm—where the bruises won’t show. I make sure each punch lands where it won’t leave visible marks.

He stumbles back, eyes watering but I’m already, throwing another punch, this one harder, faster. He crashes into the dirt, groaning, but I don’t stop.

I straddle him, gripping his collar, lifting his head just to slam it back down against the ground.

When his eyes become unfocused, I reckon he’s close to passing out. I jerk his collar again, to get his attention. “If I ever see you near Summer or Raleigh again, if you so much as look at them wrong…” I let the threat hang in the air, my voice cold and dangerous.

I shove him away and push to my feet.

My breath comes out in heavy, angry bursts. His friends have already bolted, running off like the cowards they are while Caleb fights to sit up.

I ignore him, turning away and kneeling beside Raleigh and Summer, my heart hammering in my chest as the adrenaline starts to ebb. They’re both shaken—Raleigh’s face pale. Summer is trembling.

“Are you both alright?” I ask, as I reach out to gently check them over. My hands move over them. I know the damage isn’t bad, but their fear, that’s what cuts the deepest.

I hear Caleb’s footsteps as he finally pushes to his feet before running.

Raleigh’s lip trembles. “Y-yeah,” he stammers, his eyes flicking nervously back to where Caleb had been. “You—you saved us, Damian.”

I can’t help the way my chest tightens at that. Saved them? I wasn’t saving anyone. I was just doing what needed to be done.

I reach up and swipe the dirt from his damp cheek.

I shift my attention to her and move to check her arms. She winces as I touch her wrist, but there’s nothing serious. Just scratches. I let out a breath of relief.

“They won’t hurt you again,” I vow. I won’t let them. I won’t let anyone hurt them again.

They nod, the trust in their faces unmistakable, and my stomach twists. I don’t deserve it. But there they are, looking at me like I’m the one who can keep them safe. It’s a heavy feeling, one that I don’t know how to handle.

I stand up, my hand brushing against my mouth where I can still taste blood from where that asshole landed a hit.

They don’t say much as I lead them back inside. Raleigh clings to my side, just a little closer than usual, and Summer’s small hand slips into mine.

It’s understandable that they need me close right now. But what I didn’t expect was what came next. As we sit down, Raleigh and Summer settle beside me, their gazes fixed on me.

For the first time since I’ve met them, there’s a shift. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Their eyes aren’t just looking at me anymore. They’re looking up to me.

I avert my gaze and set to work. I go to the kitchen and make them sandwiches. They follow me. I feel their eyes the entire time.

“Damian?” Summer asks, breaking the silence with that quiet, hopeful voice.

“Hmm?” I don’t turn as I get two plates out.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just nod.

Even after polishing off the sandwiches, they don’t leave my side. When I move to the bedroom, they follow me there as well.

And as I sit there with Raleigh leaning against me and Summer at my side, I realize something. They look at me the way no one else ever has in a really long time. With trust. With adoration. Like I’m the one who will keep them safe.

Two weeks go by but they keep following me around. “Damian, do you need help with that?” Raleigh asks, standing awkwardly near the kitchen table where I’m already preparing my breakfast.

I stare at him with one eye, the other swollen shut from Caleb’s dad’s beatings two days ago. I limp toward the fridge.

“No. You should go outside and play.”

Summer appears in the doorway, her small hands wrapped tightly around her worn stuffed animal, her eyes wide with concern. “Damian, you need to rest.”

I grunt in response, pulling open a drawer to grab a knife. I know they’re worried. Hell, they’re always worried. Ever since Caleb lied to his parents, claiming I stole money from him, his dad’s been beating the hell out of me every other day. I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time. Caleb is too proud to admit getting beaten up by me so he framed me this way instead.

But the worst part isn’t even the bruises. I can handle the pain. But what I despise is that Caleb’s father hits me in front of Summer and Raleigh.

The way they are forced to watch, their faces pale, eyes wide with worry hurts more than any punch. They’re convinced this is all happening because of them, and no matter what I say, I can’t get it through their heads that they’re not to blame.

I eat in silence, can’t help but feel awkward as they hover the entire time.

After I’m done, I wash the plate and head toward the door. When I hear footsteps behind me, I whirl around. “Stop following me around,” I snap, the words harsher than I intended.

Summer flinches, her lower lip trembling, but she doesn’t back down. “We just wanted to be with you.”

I exhale heavily. I don’t know why I’m doing this.

“Fine,” I mutter. “You can come with me.”

“Yes!” they both say in unison, rushing toward me and hugging me.

I let them. Let them follow me, let them help me in mundane things. Because with them, it doesn’t feel as empty, as lonely anymore. And I can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not.

Few months later…

It’s my Papà’s birthday, and all I want is to be alone. That’s why I didn’t go wash cars or mow lawns today—I just need to spend this day by myself, away from everyone and everything.

It’s early, and I doubt Raleigh or Summer are even awake. Still, I tiptoe quietly toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Summer’s voice comes from behind, making me jump out of my skin.

I don’t answer right away, just pull my hoodie tighter around myself and try to calm my breathing.

She tugs on my sleeve, looking up at me with those big eyes of hers. “Damian, are we going to the park again?”

I glance down at her, my gaze sharp. “ We are not going anywhere. I am.”

“But we’re best friends!” Raleigh pipes up, grinning like an idiot as he joins us.

“Some other time, guys.” I turn to leave, but they call my name in unison.

I face them, eyes narrowing. “Keep it down!”

“Please, Damian!” Summer whisper-shouts.

I am about to refuse her plea and Raleigh catches on, his shoulders slumping in an overly defeated gesture. “It’s fine,” he mutters, tugging Summer away with a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

They’re putting on a show, and I’m not buying a second of it. The second I turn my back, they’ll be right behind me.

Now that they caught me leaving, I can’t just leave them behind. They’d only sneak out and follow me anyway—just like they did a month ago.

“Fine,” I relent. Instantly, the act drops. Both of them burst into grins, rushing toward me with barely contained excitement.

I fix them both with a stern look. “But stay close. No wandering off. Understand?”

They both nod eagerly.

I told myself I wanted to be alone today, that I needed the silence to feel close to Papà, especially on his birthday. Every year, I spend the day alone. But now, with Raleigh and Summer tagging along, chatting away and stumbling over rocks like little kids, their energy fills the empty void. I won’t say it out loud, not to them, not even to myself, but I feel an unusual sense of comfort. They distract me just enough, reminding me that even on a day meant for mourning, life has a way of reaching in with small, irritating, but strangely welcoming reminders that I’m not completely alone.

And just like that… a year passes.

I’d gotten used to the routine. The occasional odd job, the hours spent doing things that were supposed to fill the hole inside me. But nothing could replace what I had found here. In Raleigh and Summer.

They were the closest thing I had to family, and I had grown protective of them. A year of watching them grow, watching them lean on me when things got hard. Watching Raleigh try to become a man in his own way, even at just nine. Watching Summer’s passion for colors and the way she finds joy in the simplest things.

But then came the day when I was adopted. At thirteen. I could hardly wrap my head around it. I’d seen enough of the system to know how rare it was for older kids like me to get adopted. We were the ones left behind, passed over for the newborns.

Saying goodbye to Summer and Raleigh was hard. Harder than I thought. For some reason, I had simply thought we would always stay together. Even in this shithole. The idea of running away was long forgotten because of them. But this… this was something else. I was being adopted. And though for my future, it was the best thing, I wasn’t thrilled.

I grabbed Raleigh’s shoulder as he stood, watching me. I could see the way he was trying to hold himself together. The way he always tried to be strong, even though he was a kid.

“Raleigh…” I said, my voice coming out rougher. “Listen to me.”

I remembered Papà’s words.

“You are a man, now, Raleigh. Do you know what that means?”

He looked up, his eyes uncertain. “No.”

“It means you’ve got responsibilities. You’re the one who’s gotta look after Summer from now on. You’ve got to be there for her, no matter what happens. You two stick together, always. It won’t be easy, but you’re the one she’ll need. You’re her big brother. That’s your job—protect her, always.”

He swallowed thickly, his hands shaking as he nodded, but after a beat he flung himself into my arms. “Don’t go!” he sobbed. “We need you. I need you. I can’t do this without you. You’re all I’ve ever known. Please… don’t leave us, Damian.”

I hesitated before wrapping my arm around him, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t cry, Raleigh,” I muttered gruffly. “You’re the man now. You gotta keep it together.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, tears streaking his face. “I—I don’t want you to leave, Damian. You’re the only one who’s ever cared for us.”

Swallowing hard, I stepped back abruptly.

His small face scrunched up in pain. The pressure in my chest increased.

I turned my attention to Summer.

She was standing just a few feet away, her eyes red and chin wobbling. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her chest, her whole body trembling.

She was always full of life—bouncing around, laughing, making everyone around her smile. But right now, that light in her eyes was dimming, and I could see it in her body language. She wasn’t holding it together.

I walked over to her slowly.

Her lower lip trembled as she bit back a sob. “Why… why does everyone I love always leave me, Damian?” Her voice cracked as the tears started to fall. “First my mom… and now you…”

Her words hit me hard. My throat tightened.

“I have to,” I say quietly.

She shook her head again, crying harder now. “But why, Damian? Why do you have to go?”

She wrapped her arms around my waist, her tears soaking through my t-shirt. I remained motionless. I wasn’t good at this—never had been. I cared for her, but I didn’t know how to show it.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Will you come back for us? Or... or write to us?”

I didn’t answer right away. I could feel the tension in my chest, the lump in my throat, as I tried to find the right words, but it was hard. But I find myself agreeing. “I will.”

She nodded then, trying to smile through her pain. She sniffled, wiping her eyes, but her tears didn’t stop. She pulled me into a tight hug again, holding me like she was never going to let go.

“Damian,” she whimpered against me. “Don’t forget us.”

I shut my eyes for a second, reining in my emotions. There was nothing I could say that would make this easier.

I wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but the words didn’t come. All I could do was stand there, my hands hovering awkwardly by my sides, torn between wanting to console her and not knowing how.

Raleigh came running, crashing into my side. My arms started to curl around them, but just as I was about to pull them in, Mrs. Samson’s voice cut through the air. “Damian!”

I pulled away abruptly and shouldered my backpack.

The sleek black car pulled up and I didn’t look back as I made my way toward it, my legs feeling like lead.

I slid inside. Then I finally allowed myself to glance out the window at their direction. And there they were. The two of them, standing still for a moment. But the moment they saw my eyes on them, they started running. Their small, desperate legs pumping with all their might, trying to reach me, trying to stop me from leaving.

As the car began to speed, I turned back to watch them through the rear windshield. And what I saw shattered my heart, their hands were stretched out in vain as they ran after the car. their figures growing smaller and smaller with each passing second, until they disappeared completely from view.

I promised I’d come back. I meant it. But life… life was never kind enough to allow me that happiness.

I failed them, just like I always fail the ones I love.