Free What Brings Me to You by Loralee Abercrombie Page A

them what, exactly? He never hit me, Teddy. There were never any marks. I was fed, mostly, and clothed. What would they say? Paul...he's a pretty powerful man. Who would they believe? I'd only succeed in pissing him off and then I may have been out on the street. And let's say they did take me from here. Where would I end up? In the system? In some foster family who may treat me well, but who, more likely, would abuse me even worse? Trust me; I've weighed all the options. Believe me when I tell you , I’m one of the lucky ones."
                  "There must be something..."
                  "Look, I was dealt a really shitty hand but I've learned to make the most of it."
                  "It's not fair..."
                  "Life isn't fair, Teddy."
                  "Don't you ever get angry?"
                  "All the time. I just channel the anger into my school work. I'm kinda smart, you know." She said with a playful smirk and bump of her hip into mine. The fact she had any energy to smile through everything she’d been through did something strange to me on the inside.
                  "Yeah. I know. That's why I like you." I couldn't help myself, I reached out and put my fingers on her cheek. It was soft and warm like I'd imagined, like the skin of a peach. I brushed my hand lightly over the side of her face, then up to her ear and around the back of her neck. I rested there lightly and wasn't sure if it was her heartbeat I was feeling or mine. I brought my other hand up to her soft, spirally hair and pulled her to my chest in an embrace, because all I wanted was to hold her. Protect her.       I kissed the top of her dewy forehead and breathed deep.       I wanted more. Yeah the sexual way too, but for the first time since you, Lacey, that wasn’t all I wanted. There was this swelling feeling in my chest as I held her close that I never had with anyone before. I wanted to tell her this, but it wasn't the right time, even I knew that, so I just held her. She was the first one to speak.
                  "I got in," she whispered into my chest.      
                  "Huh?"
                  "I'll show you, c'mon." She pulled my wrist gently up the stairs. We passed several bedrooms. I couldn't tell which ones belonged to her brothers but I knew right away which one belonged to her parents. It was enormous. There were upgraded windows on almost every wall and the dramatic floors to  ceiling  curtains were open so the light poured in. It was also cold. Grand, Spartan furnishings that didn't seem to go with the rest of the house; it seemed detached. We turned the corner and she led up another, almost hidden staircase into her room.
                  Her room was not a room at all, it was a cell. There was one window but it was small and high near the ceiling. There was no closet, which meant this  was   a closet and never       intended       for anyone to actually sleep here. She didn't even have a bed frame; just a twin mattress on a box spring on the floor pushed up against the wall. Her clothes were all folded neatly in two bright blue bins that looked like recycling bins. She had one pair of shoes; worn out Cons besides the black flip-flops she was still wearing. She'd made a makeshift desk with books she'd read as legs and a scrap of plywood for the top. She used a banged up folding chair as her desk chair and as a nightstand. On it she had an iPod, but no charger, and just the timepiece without the band to a cheap stopwatch.
                  She saw me fingering the iPod, "I found it on the beach. Must've belonged to someone cool; has some great tunes on it. Well, had, I can't play it now."
                  "Do you need a charger?" Her eyes lit up like I'd offered her the moon and stars on Christmas day.
                  "Do you have