Free Escape In You by Rachel Schurig Page A

around me. But then again, neither does Taylor.
    I can hear him saying something to her, but his voice is too low for me to make out the words. His mother takes no such precautions. “I don’t know why you think I care,” she says, her voice shrill and slurred. “I stopped caring a long time ago, Jeremy. Right around the time you ruined everything.”
    “Mom,” he says, his voice pleading. “Please don’t do this, not now.”
    “You show up here in the middle of the night and disturb me. I’ve heard nothing from you all day, not that I should be surprised. You’ve always been a selfish little shit. When have you ever cared one bit about anyone but yourself?”
    My mouth drops open. The pure hatred in her voice makes my blood run cold. What kind of mother could talk to her kid like this?
    Yours , a sad voice inside my head reminds me. My mother has certainly had some choice things to say to me in the last few years. But I always know that it’s the illness talking, not her. Taylor’s mom sounds…well, she doesn’t sound anything like a mother.
    “That’s not true,” he says, his voice so soft I can barely make it out. “Please, Mom, just go back upstairs and lie down. You don’t need anything else to drink.”
    I hear the unmistakable sound of a palm hitting flesh, and Taylor’s tiny gasp of pain. I tense, my body coiled tight.
    “This is my house,” she yells. “How dare you tell me what to do? You’re just a worthless, pathetic little brat and you always have been! I’ve known it since you were born. I should never have even had you!”
    She’s screaming, her shrill voice echoing through the silent, dark house. I can hardly believe the cruel words she’s saying to him, to her own son.
    “Please—” he says, his voice filled with anguish.
    “Get away, get away!”
    I can tell she’s sobbing, but her voice comes from farther off now, like she’s heading away from the kitchen. “Don’t you touch me! I hate you! I just want my son, that’s all I want. Not you!”
    Her sobbing echoes through the house, but it’s definitely fading. Was she going back upstairs? Should I go to him? Before I can decide what to do, Taylor returns to the kitchen. His face is red, his eyes wide and watery. He stares at me, almost defiantly, as if daring me to say something, to judge him. It breaks my heart, that look on his face. The shame and the guilt. The anger and the hurt. It’s almost like looking into a mirror. How many times have I run from my own house with that same look in my eyes? I want to weep for him, to hold him and kiss away the pain. Instead, I set my face in a neutral expression and meet his gaze as I walk slowly to him.
    “I can leave if you want.” Somehow, my voice is steady. “But I’d like to stay, if you’ll let me.”
    He exhales loudly then suddenly pulls me hard against his chest. I can feel his heart pounding through his shirt, and I wrap my arms around him and squeeze back. We stand like that for a long minute. His arms strain around me, his entire body pulled taut like a wire. His hands shake as they grip my shoulders. Is he crying? Finally he pulls away, looking down at me, his eyes dry but wide and scared.
    “Please stay.”
    He sounds so vulnerable, so scared, as if he thinks I might refuse him. As if his wellbeing depends on my answer.
    “Well, duh,” I say, and take his hand to bring him back to the counter. “I was promised sandwiches. And whatever awesome, totally non-sexual thing you were going to show me.”
    A smile ghosts across his face, and he almost looks like himself. “Well, let’s get to it.”

Chapter Seven
    Taylor
     
    I can't believe Zoe stayed. When my mother slapped me and stumbled off back to the library, I stood frozen in the hallway for nearly a minute. I was sure by the time I pulled it together enough to go back to the kitchen she’d be gone. But there she is, right where I left her. For a moment she looks horrified, but then something in her