Run Away Home: Shattered

By Catherine Manett

After the events of RUN AWAY HOME: TEMPERED, Peter and Danny adjust to life after trauma. Peter starts a new career, while Danny begins high school. Both are plagued by remnants of the past: Danny with persistent obsessions, and Peter by the ghosts of familiar faces. At the same time, Hayley struggles with homelessness and being a new mother.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emperor Books
• Release date: Apr 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9781637775769

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Peter

If I had to describe her in one word, it would be beautiful. Naturally beautiful. Wait, that’s two words…and it’s cliché…and it’s quite…strange? Incestuous? Is it incestuous to think of your own mother as beautiful? No, no…it’s not that.

It’s not just the way she looked. It was the aura about her. The way the ends of her hair brushed lightly over the back of her shoulders while she worked…and the way she was just so…unaffected. She would gather up each strand of her hair into a loose bun using only one hand so that she didn’t need to stop whatever task she worked on. It was effortless…she was effortless. I didn’t get that from her. I make everything I do look difficult, trying, exasperating, daunting, complicated, long-winded—What am I, a thesaurus? This is exactly what I mean.

I hear a loud bang and subsequent shatter come from the kitchen. Something’s broken. Can I take any more of this? I stand from my bed and walk directly there. Danny is kneeling in front of the refrigerator with its door wide open. The top shelf fell again. There’s broken glass and pickle juice all over the floor.

Jesus Christ, Mary, and Joseph.

Not my fault the freakin’ bolt is missing on this shelf.

OK? But I told you not to put anything glass on it. This is exactly why.

He gets off his knees and sits on his bottom. He covers his face with the palms of his hands. Is he fucking kidding right now?

Are you serious, Daniel?!

With that he slams his hands to the ground. Pickle juice splashes all around.

What?! What do you want, Peter?!

Not only is pickle juice all over the floor and your knees, now you’re sitting in it and splashing it around? Stand up. Just stand up.

He gets back on his knees and pushes himself up. He nearly slides back down but grabs onto the countertop.

High school is hard. It’s even harder when you’ve gone through the trauma he has…and when you’re covered in pickle juice.

Go change please. Put your clothes in the laundry basket. I have to clean this up.

I grab the roll of paper towels, unravel a bunch, and throw them onto the floor.

He takes a deep breath and then looks down. This smells disgusting.

Yep, I say as I get onto the tile and collect big shards of glass in my hand.

Can the caseworker not come today?

I sigh. That’s not how it works, Danny. I can’t cancel an appointment with CPS.

I just don’t feel well.

I stand back up and walk slowly toward the garbage pail. I drop the glass into it.

I know… We’re almost through it though, right? This could even be the last visit. Go now, or you’ll be late for school.

OK, he says. He walks out of my sight. I grab the vacuum cleaner from the storage closet and walk back to the kitchen. I hear the shower start. I like the sound of the shower…white noise. I turn on the vacuum and add to the loud silence.

I never wanted to teach Danny to lie…but I had to, right? Too risky otherwise.

That’s it. That’s the one thing I make look effortless: lying.

I think of all the lies I’ve told in my life. Goddammit. There are so many.

Danny

It’s like they broke something in my head. My brains are like the pickle juice, leaking out everywhere and it fucking stinks.

I slam my locker shut and walk toward class. I’m yanked back by my hoodie. FREAKING LOCKER. The end of my sweatshirt is stuck in the door. I punch the locker as hard as I can. It doesn’t open. I enter the combination quickly. 24-38-17. It doesn’t open again! FUCK! I look up to the ceiling and kick, and kick, and kick, and kick. 24-38-17. 24-38-17. 24-38-17. 24-38-17.

"Something wrong, Mr. Marcello?’

I jump, then take a deep breath.

Did I startle you? Mr. Blaine asks.

24-38-17, I think, but I say, I’m OK.

Then why are you beating on the lockers?

I turn toward him and point angrily toward the bottom of my hoodie, which is still being freakin’ EATEN by this stupid freakin’ stupid LOCKER which won’t OPEN.

Let me help. What’s your combination?

I don’t want to say it out loud…and it’s not because I’m scared someone will hear. It’s because well, I’m fucking weird now, OK? I don’t know. Like something bad will happen if I say those numbers? Terrible? That makes no freakin’ sense and I know it.

I don’t know, I say with a sigh.

You don’t know your locker combination? Mr. Blaine raises his eyebrow at me. I hate when adults do that. Like I’m stupid or something. Everyone thinks I’m so freakin’ stupid. I probably know more than he does. All he teaches is health. Wow, big freakin’ deal, he knows how babies are made and that fast food makes you fat. 24-38-17.

What’s going on at home, Danny?

Here we go again. It’s all my fault.

Nothing! Everything is fine at home! I’m mad because my hoodie is stuck in this freakin’ locker, OK? This has nothing to do with anything else.

I was just asking. I want to help you.

He really is dumb.

How? By sending more caseworkers to my apartment? Them threatening to put me back in foster care? You think that helps?

Mr. Marcello, I prefer we talk about this privately inside my classroom once we get your sweatshirt out of this locker.

Oh hell no.

I do a fucking wiggle worm, escape artist dance to get out of my hoodie. I leave it just dangling from the locker, and fix my hair with my hands, No. No, no, no, no, no. No talking. I don’t want to talk. I walk backwards.

Well, if you change your mind.

I turn away from him and keep moving. Everyone’s always judging me around here. I feel like they’re watching me. They know CPS is coming to my house. I know they do. Schools know that type of stuff, and they tell all the teachers. They do that so each one can make sad eyes at you in class, and call CPS anytime you drop your freakin’ pencil the wrong way.

I was so close to screwing it all up. Today could be the last time I have to see that caseworker’s face. I’ve gotten this far already.

Peter

The CPS case will be closed. I love it. It’s music to my ears. My heart stops racing and I smile. I lean back in my chair and breathe.

Peter, she says after she stands from our dining room table.

Yes? I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to be finished with all of this. I know Danny is too.

Yes, he’s made that very clear to me. She nods her head with a ‘if you only knew’ kind of laugh. Then she pushes in the chair and heads to the door. When she gets to the top of the staircase, she turns back to face me. You’re doing just fine. Remember, you won’t have any more issues as long as you don’t have any more drug⁠—

I won’t. I don’t do those things. I was never the problem.

I’m aware. Your urine tests have confirmed that, she says as she walks down the stairs.

I follow close behind her. She opens the door.

Right, she says. She turns back to look at me. She stares for a moment.

Yes? I ask uncomfortably. What is she looking at?

Your face is looking much better.

Thanks… I say, followed by a singular laugh. You know, I still won’t go near that parking lot. I’m just terrified of it. That’s quite embarrassing. I cover my mouth with my hand as in shame. I lean my back against the door frame.

Which one was it again?

Big lot on 112. Got mugged right after work. Never again. Won’t step foot in the place now. Had to quit my job.

Have you found anything else yet?

Shit! That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say to a CPS caseworker.

Oh, well—erm. I’m still looking. Doing some odds and ends…Door Dash…However many hours are needed to pay the bills, even if I have to work all day! I make sure that I have enough to pro⁠—

I’m not concerned with Door Dash. Anyway, you’re sure you don’t want to file a police report? That’s something I can help with.

About the— uh— mugging? Oh, no…No. I’d rather keep our lives drama-free right now, for Danny’s sake…but thank you for the offer.

You’re welcome. Hold onto my card.

Will do. I don’t stop smiling as I close the door. Happy family. We are a happy, happy family…Well, at least that’s what I wanted her to think.

I still smile as I stand staring, wide-eyed at the closed door. I shake my head rapidly as if to wake myself up from a trance and lose the grin. I did it. I somehow did it again.

CHAPTER TWO

Hayley

It’s hard being a mom. It’s harder being a girl mom. I know what men are capable of. I want to protect her from that, from them. I’m glad she isn’t a boy. I don’t hate men…Well, maybe I do. At the very least I’m scared of them. I don’t think I could raise a baby right if I was scared of what he’d become.

I sit on a folding chair next to her crib and watch her sleep. I pick at the chips of wood splintering from its bars. There’s nothing I want more than to get her a new one. She deserves it. This one looks like it came straight out of the nineties…and some kind of yippee dog with small teeth gnawed all around its legs, like a nasty little chihuahua or something. I think about the pictures I’ve seen on Instagram, you know, new moms with their babies in their perfect nurseries. My baby deserves that too, even if I don’t. She’s new here. She hasn’t done anything wrong yet.

I pick up my phone. Maybe there’s some better options on Facebook Marketplace. Instead, I’m distracted by a notification from Daily Horoscope.

I throw my phone to the floor in horror. Everleigh cries. I stand up quickly and cradle her in my arms.

Shh, it’s OK. Mommy’s sorry, I say as I bounce up and down lightly. Her tiny fingers curl around my shirt. I gently push her head into my chest.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck. Everything, I mean everything, reminds me of Peter, of what I did. Every time I see the word friend, I think of what a terrible one I am. Every time, I mean every single time, I look at my baby, I see him. I see him lying on the floor, covered in blood, gasping for air. I think about how I ran away from him. Left him there to die…

I wonder how in fucks sake I got away with it. He’s alive, I know he is. He picked up the phone the day after... He hasn’t told anyone what happened. Danny hasn’t told anyone what happened. How is that possible? Why wouldn’t they tell? I’d tell. I’d tell on me real fast. In fact, if Everleigh wasn’t born, I’d tell on myself. The guilt is killing me. The fear of being caught is killing me. I just want the guilt and the fear to go away. I live here now. I live in a state of constant panic.

There’s a knock at our door. Fuck. I spoke too soon…It’s probably the police coming to get me. My legs shake, but I creep to the door, holding Everleigh tight. I peer out the window before answering. Oh, It’s just the case manager from the office. She’s holding a clipboard. Everything’s OK.

I’m learning how to do a lot of things while holding a baby now, like opening a door one handed. It feels like such an accomplishment every time I do it. Bam, just like that I swing it open.

I’ve got an application for you, she says as soon as she sees my face.

Oh, really? Housing?

Yeah. Don’t know how long the waitlist is though.

Worth a try, I say as I take the clipboard. She attempts to hand me a pen as well. I juggle Everleigh, the clipboard, and the pen for a little bit. Soon enough I realize that writing is something I still don’t know how to do while holding a baby. I sigh defeatedly. She stares at me but doesn’t offer to help.

I gotta put her down. You wanna come in?

Nope.

It’s cold.

I said no.

OK…Well…I’ll be right back.

I enter the bedroom and put Everleigh back in her crib. I try to walk away, but she cries again, so I stand nearby while I fill out the paperwork. The people here aren’t so nice. I mean, I understand it’s a homeless shelter, but it’s kinda like a motel. In fact, I think this place used to be a motel. I’m not expecting great customer service, but⁠—

Everleigh cries out again.

Exactly, you get it. Great, now I’m talking to an infant. I try my best to tune out her shrieks and focus on the task at hand. Doing anything is much harder with a screaming baby. Sleeping, for example. HA! Sleeping. That doesn’t happen much anymore.

I fill out the form as quickly as possible and sign my name at the bottom. What’s the date again? Suddenly I start to sweat. October 29 th, my horoscope.

I rush back over to the door.

Here, I say. I open the door just enough to stick the clipboard out.

Mhm… Is your baby OK?

Fuck. Everleigh is still screaming. How the hell did I tune that out for so long?

She’s fine. Just a little tired that’s all!

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even say goodbye. She just rolls her eyes and walks away. I think some people hate their jobs. I still don’t have one. I’ll be getting one soon. DSS is making me get one. But it’s not only that. I kind of want to work. You know, so that Everleigh can have a brand-new crib, a few toys, and a home. I start to think about all the things Everleigh doesn’t have, all the things I can’t give her. I close the door and return to Everleigh. I pick her up and bounce up and down.

What is it? Are you hungry? Sleepy? Tummy ache? Please, just stop crying. Please, please.

I hold her over my shoulder, which only gives her the opportunity to tangle her tiny fingers in my hair and pull. My head is throbbing. I sit back down on the folding chair beside the crib. I rock back and forth as she screams in my ear. Am I rocking to calm her down or have I completely lost my mind? I imagine sitting alone in a padded room coddled in a straight jacket. That’s starting to sound like a vacation.

I’m exhausted. I can’t do this. I want to run. I used to have an out, an escape… I think of the pills. Where could I get them from…? I’m sure someone around here… No! That’s what got me and her in this fucked up place to begin with!

I pat on Everleigh’s back and she lets out the tiniest burp. Suddenly, she calms down. Seriously? I cradle her in my arms.

Gas? All that over a little gas? I’m the one that should be crying and screaming, me!

She smiles and reaches up toward my face. I can’t help but smile as well.

Peter

Peter…Peter. Peter! Peter?

I repeat my name over and over as I sit in the car waiting for the next delivery opportunity to pop up on my phone screen. My elbow leans on the window.

You know, she could have chosen any name, but she said I look like a Peter. What do you think? I look in the rearview mirror of my car, but not at my little brother. At myself. I look down and check my cell phone again and again for a ding. I’d like a delivery now, please. Preferably someone who’s giving a high tip…A drive less than two miles…and not for any type of cuisine that’s going to stink up my car. I hate that fucking game Danny plays. The one where he gets in the car after school and tries to guess what kind of food I delivered. I laugh. I feel like you’d like that game too.

I turn around and look in the backseat. Adair smiles back at me. God, I miss that smile.

My phone finally dings. I quickly face forward again and pick it up.

Burgers. Four miles. $8.95.

Sounds OK to me, I say as I fasten my seatbelt. Make sure you buckle up now. Don’t want to lose you again. You know, you’re always welcome to visit me. I love having you. It’s—It’s someone else—There’s another visitor. He’s the one I don’t like…You know who I’m talking about…Have you seen him lately? He⁠—

I turn around to face Adair, but he isn’t there anymore. No one is.

I’m not naive. I know there’s no such thing as ghosts, but I don’t want to believe that I’m sick in the head either.

Danny

STUPID MOTHERFUCKER! I jam on the X button. Peter walks out of the kitchen and stares at me weirdly. I’m not looking at him, but I see him out of my side eye. He’s quiet. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t notice him over there. I just got home from practice, can’t he leave me alone to relax and unwind?

This STUPID⁠—

Watch it, he says.

MOTHERFUCKER! I shout.

He sighs. Just give up already.

You know this game is way too cute for the language you’re using. He walks closer and looks at the TV.

Don’t let the happy little colorful robots fool you, these fuckers are pure EVIL!

If you say so…It just seems like⁠—

There’s a knock at the door. Yay! Now he has to go do that!

You better go get that, Peter.

It’s probably one of those people with the God pamphlets.

What’s wrong with God pamphlets?! I love reading those! Don’t you want me to read more? I guess not. I shake my head in disapproval without looking away from the TV screen.

He walks toward the window and looks out the blinds. I click the X button as fast as I can. My alien man jumps into the sky and ground-pounds a robot when he’s least expecting it.

Oh, look at that, it’s Matt.

Yeah, OK, better go—WHAT?!? I just spent ALL DAY with him! NO! DO NOT answer it! Did he see you look out the blinds?

I don’t know, Peter says as he walks toward the stairs.

NO! Peter! NO! I throw the controller down and run in front of him. He’s mad slow. I block the way to the staircase like a big old starfish. If you EVER see Matt outside, just know, I DON’T want to hang out with him! I shake my head back and forth.

Why not?

He’s a huge pain in the ass, DUH!

I thought you two are friends? You seem to spend a lot of time together.

"Oh my God, PETER! We are school friends! I’m his friend at school. As soon as I’m home, I am NOT his friend anymore. It’s not⁠—"

Danny, are you home?! Matt calls out and knocks and knocks and knocks. THREE KNOCKS?! Not an even number?! I can’t take this kid. He’s gonna bring all that bad juju in here. My heart starts to go even faster.

Danny, let me down the stairs. He knows we’re home. He tries to reason with me, but hell no!

I’M NOT HOME, MATT! I yell.

IT’S IMPORTANT, DUMB ASS! Matt calls through the door.

See, Peter. See?! Did you hear what he just called me?!

I’ll just tell him you aren’t feeling well. Let me through, Danny.

Fine! I put my arms down and walk away from the stairs. But make him knock on the door one more time before he comes in!

Excuse me? Peter asks. Like that’s so fucking weird…Maybe it is a little weird.

Just make him do it, OK?!

Danny. What⁠—

Forget it!

I run past Peter, down the stairs, and rip the door open. I look down at Matt because he’s very short now. Or maybe I just grew a lot. Yeah, I think I grew a lot over the summer.

Knock again! Knock again! Knock one more Goddamn time, I say like I just got casted in Pulp Fiction.

What…? he asks.

Now I really feel like Jules.

He lifts his hand up in a knocking position and knocks just once. He goes to knock again, but I catch his knocking hand mid-air.

That’s enough!

OK…

What do you want?

I forgot my Bio textbook at school. I just need to take some pictures of yours so I can do my homework.

You could have just texted me.

You never answer.

Oh my God, fine, just come in.

Cool. He runs up the stairs past me. Oh, DUDE! You’re playing Space Force X?! He asks as he gets all googly-eyed at the TV screen.

Yes, but don’t touch the controller! I yell as I follow him up the stairs. You’re here for the science homework, right? I bend down and rip open my backpack. I dig through a big fat mess of papers and snack wrappers and grab my biology textbook. I chuck it at him. He blocks the flying book with his arms.

Dude, calm down, he says all