The Redemption of Callie and Kayden by Jessica Sorensen Page A

little over a week and a half since I got released
    and I’m fucking pissed. And shocked. And a whole lot of other stuff
    I can’t sort through. The last time I saw Callie was when I left her at the café. She’s tried to call and text me a few times since I ran away from her, but I never respond.

    Being stuck in the house is tough, though, and kind of
    depressing, especially since Christmas day was yesterday and it
    went unnoticed. But it’s always kind of been like that I guess. My
    mother has cleaned out the knives and razors and every sharp
    object in the house. Whether it’s for my dad’s benefit or my own,
    I’m not sure. My oldest brother, Tyler, is still hanging out. I guess he lost his job and house, so now he’s crashing in the downstairs
    room we used to hide out in when we were kids. He’s also drinking
    about as much as my mother. My father hasn’t been home since I
    came back. My mother says he’s on a business trip but I secretly
    wonder if he’s hiding until they can be sure I’m not going to talk
    about what happened that night.

    “Good news,” my mom says when I enter the kitchen. It’s
    early in the morning, but she’s dressed up, her hair’s done, and
    she’s already got her makeup on. She’s sitting at the table sipping
    coffee with a magazine in front of her and a half-empty wine
    bottle.

    I head for the cupboard. “Oh yeah.”

    She picks up the coffee mug. “Yes, if you consider not going
    to jail good news.” She takes a sip of the coffee and then puts the
    cup back down on the table. “I think Caleb and your father have
    come to an agreement. We’ll give him ten thousand dollars and in
    exchange he won’t press charges.”

    “Is that even legal?”

    “Does it matter if it is?”

    I open the cupboard and take out a box of Pop-Tarts. “Kind
    of… And besides, how do you know he won’t just take the money
    and still press charges. He’s not a good, honest guy.”

    “No, he’s the guy you beat up.” She picks up the creamer
    and pours some into her coffee. “Now quit arguing. This is how
    your father’s handling it. And be grateful that he’s handling it.”

    I unintentionally snort a laugh. “Be grateful.” I gesture at my
    side, which is starting to scar over. “For what? For this?”

    She raises the cup to her mouth and scowls at me over the
    brim. “What? The injuries you put there yourself?”

    I slam the cupboard and it makes her jump. “You know that’s
    not true… and I wish… I wish…” I wish for once she’d just admit
    that she knows but doesn’t care. It’d be better than her pretending
    that none of this exists.

    She lowers the cup to the table and flips a page of her
    magazine, shrugging nonchalantly. “All I know is that you cut
    yourself and that your father wasn’t even here that night.”

    “Mom, you are so full of—”

    She smacks her hand down on the table and her body is
    shaking. “Kayden Owens, we’re not going to talk about this
    anymore. It’s being taken care of and we’re moving on because
    that’s what we do.”

    I lean back against the corner, bend my arms behind my
    back, and grip the countertop. “Why are you always protecting
    him? You should be protecting your kids… but you won’t even
    admit the stuff that’s going on.”

    She shoves back from the table, grabs her magazine and
    coffee, and hurries toward the doorway. “Do you know what it’s
    like growing up so poor that your mother has to sell herself on the
    corner all so you can have a used pair of shoes from the local
    surplus store?”

    My mother has never really talked about her childhood or
    her mother, so I’m stunned. “No… but I’d rather grow up without
    good shoes than grow up getting my ass kicked every day.”

    She swings her arm back and throws the cup at me. It zips
    past my head and shatters against the wall. Sharp fragments
    sprinkle all over the floor and get stuck in the cracks of the tile.
    “You ungrateful