In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

The driver dropped us off at the corner of Porter’s street and I struggled getting him out of the car without slipping on the ice. He ran ahead before I had the chance to hold onto him and jumped up onto his neighbor’s tree, swinging back and forth on a low hanging branch.

  “Porter, please get down,” I begged.

  “Porter?”

  I turned to the voice and saw his parents exiting their car. Their eyes were wide as they watched their beloved son swing from a tree in the dead of winter. Porter saw them, but didn’t get down. He just continued swinging back and forth. His parents stormed down the sidewalk, their faces filled with so many emotions; worry, fear, confusion, rage. As they approached, I tried explaining what was going on without actually telling the truth.

  “Porter just had a beer. He must not have eaten very much today, and I guess it just hit him pretty hard.” My excuses were flying from my mouth before I had a chance to stop them.

  His parents looked from me to their son, who was still swinging. Mrs. Henning’s eyes were full of disappointment. She looked at her son like she didn’t recognize him. Mr. Henning shook his head, cradling his wife in his arms, protecting her body from the cold.

  “Get down this instant, Porter!”

  Mr. Henning’s booming voice made my insides shrivel with fear. Porter must have felt the same way because he finally dropped from the branch and walked, in a zigzag line, toward his parents.

  “What are you on?” his father demanded. He grasped Porter’s shoulders, shaking him to force out an answer.

  “Chill, Pops,” Porter laughed out, “I just really want a Big Mac and to fucking sleep right now.”

  Mrs. Henning gasped at her son’s response. I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn’t let Porter talk me into sneaking out. Mr. Henning clutched his son’s arms and practically dragged him back to their house. I stood, frozen to the ground, and watched them disappear inside.

  “Kingsley.” Mrs. Henning’s delicate voice grabbed my attention. “Do you have any idea what he’s on? We’ve never seen him act this way. Please, just tell us the truth,” she begged.

  “I-I don’t.” I wanted to tell her about the party. I wanted to tell her that her son disappeared with Greg and that she needed to ask him what Porter took. But I couldn’t tell her any of those things. Porter would never forgive me if I tattled on him. Our relationship would be over.

  “Okay,” she said, sadly looking down at the sidewalk. “L-let me drive you home.

  “No!” I shouted. “I mean, I can just walk. I’m not very far.”

  Her eyes questioned my answer, but she nodded her head. She was far more concerned with checking on her son than making sure I got home safely. I told her that Porter would be okay, even though I didn’t know if he would. I told her that I’d be okay walking home, even though I didn’t know if I would be once I got there.

  When she entered her house and I walked toward mine, I didn’t know what the outcome of this night was going to be, but I had a feeling I was going to lose something. Maybe everything.

  Three shots of vodka. Four shots of tequila. Two beers.

  I was well on my way to blacking out, but I couldn’t stop myself. Wren glared at me from across the room, watching in horror as I took yet another shot of tequila. This was my way of forgetting that Porter was somewhere in this house. I could feel his presence the way you feel sweat drip down the back of your neck, only this wasn’t something I could just wipe away.

  The crowd that surrounded me was a mixture of girls and guys. Like me, they were standing there to get drunk—more than drunk—they wanted to blackout just as much as I did. We fed off of each other, rooted each other on as each of us took another swig of our beers. I didn’t know any of their names. I didn’t care to know them, but the longer I drank with these people, I picked up on little things. The redheaded guy standing across from me liked to chase his tequila shot with cranberry juice. The pretty blonde standing next to me hated the taste of vodka, yet she continued shooting it.

  “Cheers to our freedom!” the redheaded guy yelled as he picked up the bottle of tequila and chugged it down. This time, he didn’t chase it down with juice.

  Red cups clinked together, the crowd happily celebrating our freedom. I rolled my eyes but lifted my cup, only wanting to blend in. The circle of debauchery was the life of the party, which meant all eyes were focused on the center of the kitchen. I peered around the room, stopping at Wren, then continuing on, searching for Porter.

  He wasn’t there.

  I listened to the conversations going on around me. Comments on how this was the best party ever circulated from one person to another, and I couldn’t help but feel aggravation that I was even there. I wanted to be alone with Wren, away from this house, this party. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms, under his sheets, back in Brooklyn.

  “Kingsley!”

  I looked to my left to see Jay calling my name, waving me over like a dog. For a second, I thought about flipping him off, but I’d already caused one scene at the party. Had Wren not come into my life, I would have thought seriously about screwing Jay. His bad boy attitude, mixed with just the right about of naïveté, was a huge turn on. I would’ve trained him to do the things I wanted him to do and then once he began falling in love with me, I would’ve told him to get lost. That was my specialty.

  Until Wren.

  I walked over to where they were standing and snuggled into Wren’s side.

  “Slow down on the drinking,” Wren leaned down and whispered into my ear.

  His words went in one ear and out the other. I grabbed Jay’s beer out of his hand and chugged the remaining contents.

  “What the fuck, Kingsley?!” Jay whined.

  “I got thirsty,” I said, smiling back at him.

  Jay scowled at me before walking off to get another drink, leaving just Wren and me standing alone.

  “What’s your deal?” he asked, turning to face me.

  “Like I said, I was just thirsty. Happens to the best of us.”

  The next hour of the party was a blur. Wren didn’t go out of his way to talk to me, and I worked on numbing every part of myself. The more I drank, the less I worried where Porter was, but the more I drank, the more my mind was immersed in flashbacks from my past. I was surrounded by people, yet I felt completely alone. If I didn’t pass out, if I didn’t get away from the memories, I would scream at any moment.

  Wren was in the middle of a conversation with Samson when I tugged on his sleeve.

  “Can we go?”

  He turned and looked at me, his mouth half-open from being stopped mid-sentence. “Are you okay?”

  “Just really, really sleepy. Can we go?” I repeated.

  “Of course.” Without needing more of an explanation, Wren said goodbye to his friends. He explained to them that I wasn’t feeling well, and Jay, being Jay, made a crack that maybe I shouldn’t drink so much, which only resulted in Wren punching him in the arm. Hard. It wasn’t until we were outside that Wren asked me what was really going on.

  “I can’t stop the memories from showing up,” I admitted, never expecting my confession to come so easily. Last night, before I divulged one of my darkest secrets to Wren, I would have told him that I just didn’t feel well, but now I felt like my soul was already exposed.

  “The memories from that night?” he asked.

  “Every memory.”

  Wren grasped onto my wrist to stop me from walking. The sun was beginning to set and if I wasn’t being haunted by my past, I might have enjoyed the beauty of the sky.

  “What are the other memories?” He asked the question like it was an equation he didn’t understand; I was the equation that could never be solved.

  “I just want to lay down,” I answered, stumbling on the concrete. “I just want sleep.”

  Wren cradled my body into his side, keeping me from falling over. He nodded his response, holding me until we arrived at his front door. We entered his house, the silence acknowledging his parents’ abs
ence. I was thankful they weren’t around to see me so wrecked. His mother would have written it off as just another reason that I wasn’t good enough for her son. And I would have believed her.

  We entered the guest bedroom, Wren immediately turning down the sheets on the bed. I kicked off my flip flops, not bothering with any other piece of clothing. The second my body hit the mattress, a flood of relief washed over me. I knew in minutes I’d be asleep. In my sleep, I could ignore everything, and that was bliss to me.

  “I’m gonna get you some water and ibuprofen. Do you need anything else?” Wren asked, kneeling down next to the bed.

  I shook my head, scrunched my eyes closed, and smiled. I was tempted to tell him that I needed him, but couldn’t spit the words out. I watched Wren walk out of the room, closing my eyes as I listened to him walk down the steps. The rest of the house was silent. No grandfather clock tick-tocking, no dogs barking. Nothing but the sound of my own breathing to keep me company. As the seconds passed, I could feel each memory disappearing.

  “Kingsley?”

  Wren’s voice jolted me awake and I opened one eye, my vision blurred.

  “Here,” he said, holding his hand out.

  I opened my mouth, signaling him to put the three pills on my tongue.

  “Baby, you need to sit up so you can swallow them.”

  I whined, but slowly sat up. Wren placed the pills on my tongue and handed me the glass of ice water, flooding my parched mouth with cool liquid.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  I shook my head, dropping it down onto the pillow. Before closing my eyes, I studied Wren. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes, normally fully alert, were half-closed.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” I said, expressing as much as I could without puking all over him.

  Wren gave a small smile, kissed my forehead, and left the room.

  In the minutes before falling asleep, I remembered two things. The guilt plainly on Porter’s face when he saw me this afternoon, and the agony I felt after walking away from him.

  I woke up this morning when I was dragged out of from under my sheets. My eyes shot open as Mrs. Henderson clutched my ankles and pulled me across the cold basement floor.

  “Get up!” she snarled. Her fingernails dug into my skin and I tried kicking her hands away, but didn’t have the strength. She always overpowered me. “Stand up, now!” She let go of my legs and waited until I was on both feet to slap me across the face. “How dare you!” she screamed.

  My hand instantly went to my cheek, but I knew I couldn’t cry. I could never show that she was breaking me down.

  “Your little boyfriend, Porter,” she spit. “His parents showed up at this house, demanding an explanation!”

  I was confused by her words. Demanding an explanation for what? I had no idea what was happening, and I was terrified to ask.

  “Do you understand what you’ve done?”

  I looked up, past her shoulder. Drew was huddled on the last step, tears pouring down his cheeks. Jenny, Ava, and David were there too. Their faces showed fear as they watched Mrs. Henderson scream at me.

  “I-I don’t understand what I’ve done,” I finally mumbled.

  “You bitch!”

  Her palm struck the same cheek once more, sending me to the ground. Andrew ran over to my side, nestling his body across my stomach. His tears spilled onto my shirt as he yelled at his mother to stop.

  “Get off of her, Drew!” Mrs. Henderson pulled at his tiny arms, demanding Jenny and Ava take him upstairs.

  When I opened my eyes to look into his, I forced a smile. “It’s okay, Bear. Go with them upstairs. I’ll be okay,” I whispered in his ear. I gave him every ounce of hope I had leftover before he was carried off, leaving Mrs. Henderson and I alone.

  She kneeled down and I immediately curled my legs into my stomach, squeezing my eyes closed. “Get dressed, comb your natty hair out, and get ready to put on your best acting performance,” she ordered.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, scooting my body away. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll let CPS explain that to you. Remember though, if you tell them the truth, you’ll never sleep another peaceful night again.”

  The second she closed the basement door, I threw on my jeans. I was dying to know what happened to Porter. Why did his parents come here, and what did they tell the Hendersons? When I went to bed last night, I knew something bad was going to happen; I felt it in the pit of my stomach, but I never thought it would be this. I twisted my hair into a bun and knotted the laces on my gym shoes.

  When I opened the door and walked into the living room, a woman I’d never seen before was sitting on the couch, studying a notebook in her lap. Mrs. Henderson was sitting in her recliner, but Mr. Henderson was nowhere in sight. He must have been scared off with just the mention of CPS. I made a sound, letting the woman know I was there.

  “Oh,” she said, looking up from her lap. She stood and held out her hand. “My name is Kelly. You must be Kingsley.”

  I nodded and shook her hand. She asked me to take a seat and then requested that Mrs. Henderson give us some privacy, which almost made me smile because no one ever had the nerve to ask her for anything.

  When Mrs. Henderson left the room, making it known that she thought the whole thing was ridiculous, Kelly studied me for a moment before speaking. Without thinking, I brought my hand up to my cheek, wondering if it was red.

  “I know this all must seem a bit weird,” she said quietly.

  Her delicate tone made the situation a bit less uncomfortable. She seemed like a nice lady, someone who couldn’t hurt a fly, but I thought the same thing of Mrs. Henderson.

  “I’m going to ask you a couple questions and I just want you answer them as truthfully as you can,” she continued.

  She smiled at me and I returned it with my own, giving her the indication to carry on. “Kingsley, you’ve been staying with the Hendersons for about three years, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Good. Okay. Do you like living here?”

  I remembered Mrs. Henderson’s words. Remember though, if you tell them the truth, you’ll never sleep another peaceful night again. “Yes, it’s fine,” I responded.

  She wrote something down, but I wasn’t able to see her notebook to read it.

  “Okay,” she said, looking back up at me. “Do you like having so many brothers and sisters? You have eight, is that correct?”

  The only one I considered my sibling was Drew, but I nodded.

  “Where do you sleep?”

  Her question threw me off guard. I didn’t know if I was supposed to say the basement. Was my answer going to make her write something else down?

  It did.

  “The basement has to be cold at night, especially in the winter. Are you given enough blankets?”

  I was given one sheet. It was at least twenty years old, but it was soft. It protected me, for the most part.

  I nodded my response.

  The next few questions were simple. Did the Hendersons feed me? Yes. Was I allowed to play outside? Yes. Have I ever been hurt by any of my brothers or sisters? I was tempted to tell her about Jenny, but stopped myself and answered no.

  “Have either of the Hendersons ever hit you?”

  My insides twisted in pain. My palms were beginning to sweat, and I shoved them into my lap, making sure to hide the evidence of my nerves. “No,” I said, my voice slightly shaky.

  Kelly noticed the shake and wrote something else down. “Okay. One more question.” She gave another comforting smile and continued. “This one is going to seem a little weird, but it’s required that I ask. Is that okay?”

  I nodded, knowing the next question.

  “Has anyone ever touched you inappropriately? Any kind of touch that made you feel uneasy?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No. Never.” My voice still shook, but I couldn’t hide that along with everything else.

&nbs
p; Kelly wrote one last thing in her notebook and closed it. “You did great, Kingsley.”

  I took a quiet exhale and stood up. Kelly followed.

  “It was very nice meeting you,” she said, holding out her hand.

  I shook it quickly and ran out of the room. The second I returned to the basement, I wrapped myself in the sheet I used every single night, hoping it would bring me some type of comfort. Anything that could make me feel just a tiny bit better. I needed to see Porter. Needed to know what was going on. Climbing into the window last night was an easy task, so I made the split-second decision to climb out of it and go see him.

  Making sure Kelly or Mrs. Henderson didn’t discover me running through the yard, I squatted down as I passed the front of the house. When I got to the corner of the street, I ran like I was being chased. I didn’t stop running for six blocks. My chest was burning and I was gasping for air, but I had to get to Porter. I crossed the street and ran up his driveway, and just before I had the chance to knock on his door, it opened.

  “Kingsley, you shouldn’t be here,” Mrs. Henning urged. She looked as if she hasn’t slept for twenty-four hours. The dark circles under her eyes made her appear ten years older than she actually was. She wore the same clothing from last night, and her hair, which was typically in a neat ponytail, hung down past her shoulders.

  “Can I please see Porter?” I begged.

  “Kingsley, we can’t allow you to see him right now. Please, go home.”

  “Can I please see Porter?” I repeated.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at me.

  “Mom, it’s fine. I’ll be right back.” Porter stepped into the doorway, and briefly smiled at his mom before closing the door behind him.

  “Porter,” I said, joining him on his porch, “are you okay?”

  I touched his arm but he moved his body. He moved his body farther away from me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t see you anymore, Kingsley.”

  His words weren’t real. This entire day was some nightmare I must be stuck in. There was no way he told me that he didn’t want to see me anymore because he loved me. He was supposed to love me forever.