The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

school?”
    I nod and walk backward toward the truck, staying in my footprints to keep from sinking in the snow. “Yeah, school starts on Monday.”
    He gazes at the people in the truck. “Are you driving back with them?”
    Smiling, I nod. “Yes.”
    “With a bunch of dudes?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is that safe?”
    My smile expands into a face-consuming grin. “I’m safer in that truck than I am anywhere else.”
    He crooks his eyebrows at me with cynicism. “Well, okay then.” I wave at him as I start to turn, when he calls out, “I’ll let you know what happens.”
    Glancing over my shoulder, I nod again, knowing all I can do is hope everything will work out, that I’ll get a little bit of justice and Caleb will have to pay. But no matter what happens, I spoke up, made a voice for myself, freed the haunting memories that have owned me every day for the last six years. I found my courage.
Kayden
    “I don’t fucking understand” are the first words that leave my lips when I enter my house. It’s empty. Cleared of all the furniture, pictures, books, plates, and food, and the cars aren’t even in the driveway. The floor is bare of rugs and the few dressers that are left have been emptied out as well, including my clothes. My parents took them too, probably to punish me for existing.
    “They even took the blinds down,” I say, astounded, turning in a circle in the living room. “Why would they do that? I mean, there’s no for-sale sign, no nothing.”
    Callie steps up beside me beneath the chandelier and right in front of the bulky marble fireplace and she threads her fingers through mine, giving my hand a squeeze. “They never mentioned they were moving?”
    I shake my head slowly, her hand feeling so diminutive in mine, yet enormously comforting. “I haven’t even seen my dad since he beat the shit out of me.” I think about the itinerary papers in the trash bin. “Did they just bail?”
    “What about your brother?” she asks. “Could he still be here? Maybe he knows where they went.”
    Shaking my head, I tug her with me as I rush toward the open front door. I trot down the stairs and round the corner of the house to the basement. Kicking the snow out of the way from the front door, I grab the doorknob.
    It’s not like I’m upset I’ll never see them again. I’m pissed off because I was starting to warm up to the idea of pressing charges and now… “I have no idea what’s going on,” I mutter as I open the basement door and find that that room is empty too. The leather sofa Callie, Luke, and I played truth on is the only thing that remains. The mini fridge, the television, and the futon are missing. I walk in, still clinging onto Callie’s hand and it soothes the loneliness and feelings of abandonment rising up in my body.
    I stand in the entryway with my jaw hanging open, just staring at the room I spent countless days hiding out in. “What the fuck?” I don’t move or breathe. I can’t even think straight as my thoughts become jumbled. There’s a crack in the wall just outside the farthest corner where my dad rammed my head through the Sheetrock and then didn’t patch it up correctly. I had a concussion from a “collision with another player on my baseball team” my mom had told the doctors. There’s a hole in the carpet that was once hidden by a recliner. Tyler had dropped his lighter when he was smoking weed and it had burned a hole. To cover it up from my dad, we’d moved the recliner over it.
    “Can you try and call them?” Callie asks. “Maybe not your parents, but you could try your brother.”
    I shake my head in disbelief. How can this be happening? How can he walk away to Puerto Rico or Paris or wherever he ended up? And why? It’s not like he’d definitely be in trouble if I spoke up. He could easily deny it.
    “I don’t get it,” I mutter, turning back to Callie. Her hair is twisted in a clip at the back of her head and pieces of her bangs frame her face. Her lips are turning purple because the low temperature in the room almost matches the winter air outside. “We should go,” I say, shaking my head as I attempt to sort through my rapid, disorganized thoughts.
    She tightens her grip on my hand and holds me in place. “Are you sure? We could look around and see if we could find some clues or something.”
    I sigh. “Callie, this is real life. There won’t be any clues, and even if there are, none of it matters. To anyone. It’s better if I just