“You don’t even know me,” I say quietly, astounded that she assumes the worst of someone she does clearly know.
“That may be true, but I know Toby. I know all those boys better than they think I do. And I’d put money on him doing something really fucking stupid to have sent you running like this.”
I scoff, unable to say anything about what he’s done.
How? How can I possibly explain to anyone everything he just showed me without me sounding like a total crazy person?
If I hadn’t seen him through the screen with my own eyes, then I’d think I was insane.
But he was there. The man I thought had died a few weeks ago. The man I thought was my stepdad who selflessly brought me up as his own.
A whimper breaks free as my mind takes me back to that bathroom floor as Dad begged me to get out, to run away from Toby as fast as I could.
“You need to ask him,” I mutter, not interested in getting in the middle of whatever this is.
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that,” she spits.
Silence falls around us once more and I quickly realise that the bullshit conversation with that stranger was better than allowing the voice to spark up again in my head, the questions, the doubts, the confusion.
Despite the car warming around me, my body still trembles. Shock, I guess.
“Here’s fine,” I say when she pulls up on my street. In seconds, she comes to a stop a little down from my house and kills the engine. “I’ve got it.”
“I might live in that building with them, but I’m not a complete douchebag. Come on.” She’s out of the car before I can stop her and has my door open as I’m uncurling my legs from the seat.
The second I’m on my feet, she wraps her arm around my waist and I have no choice but to let her guide me to my front door.
I want to pretend it’s not necessary, but seeing as she’s holding up the majority of my weight, I think we both know that it is.
“Keys,” she demands, reaching out.
Mindlessly, I shove my hand into my bag and dig around until I find them. Passing her the set, I stand uselessly as she fights to find the right one to open the door.
We quickly discover it’s not necessary though, because the door opens and Mum’s concerned face fills my vision.
“Jojo, what’s happened?”
I shake my head, not ready to talk about any of it as she gestures for the girl clinging on to me to bring me inside before dragging me into her own arms and holding me tight.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
The whimper that falls from my lips is pathetic and weak. And I hate it.
“Don’t be silly,” I hear Mum say, her chest rumbling against my cheek with her words. “Come in.”
“N-no, I really should—“
“I insist,” Mum says in that tone of hers I remember all too well as a kid that stopped me from arguing about whatever she was saying.
I’m pulled deeper into the house and directed into the living room before I’m lowered to the sofa.
Mum’s warm hands land on my cheeks and I quickly find myself staring into her warm, dark eyes.
“What’s happened, Jojo?”
I stare at her blankly as my thoughts, my fears, my confusion all war in my head.
My tears continue to fall and my bottom lip trembles as new thoughts hit me.