Don’t Lock Me In Again

"What are you talking about?" Dad asked, his face tightened.

I turned the name "William" over in my head, again and again.

Nothing.

They never called me that in here.

The instructor, Vincent Rhodes, stepped up behind me. His hand settled on my shoulder, firm but placed where no one else would notice.

He leaned in, his voice low against my ear.

"Watch your mouth when you get out. You know what happens if you don't."

When he straightened, the smile was already back on his face.

"Mr. Easton, no need to worry. The kids are managed by ID numbers inside. It takes a little time to readjust. William's made real progress over the past three years. We're honestly going to miss him."

Dad's expression eased. "Alright. Let's get him home."

He looked at me.

"You hear that? Your name's William. I'm taking you home."

I nodded.

Mom stepped forward and reached for my hand.

I jerked back, hitting the doorframe, my body locking up.

"I'm sorry!"

My knees started to give on instinct, the reaction shooting straight up my spine.

My sister, Judy Easton, reached past Mom and caught my arm.

"Hey, stand up. You don't have to kneel."

Her voice was quiet. She looked nothing like the girl who used to get into fights at school three years ago.

Dad gave her shoulder a light pat and glanced at me.

"See, Judy? If you had been this easy back then, I wouldn't have had to spend so much money to send William in your place."

He didn't bother hiding the satisfaction in his eyes.

"One kid gets into a top college, while the other gets his attitude straightened out. Worked out pretty well."

When it was time to get in the car, I froze.

Tight, dark spaces scared me. The seatbelt looked too much like the straps they used to tie down my arms and legs. I remembered a few people closing in, ripping my clothes open.

"C-Can I sit in the back?" I stammered.

Dad sighed, then nodded.

I climbed into the trunk and curled into the far corner, burying my face in my knees.

Sunlight came through the glass. It felt sharp, almost painful, but something inside me stirred anyway.

When we got home, a banner hung across the living room.

[Congrats, Judy, on Getting into a Top College!]

In smaller print underneath was, [Welcome Home, William.]

The table was set with a full spread.

"Sit." Dad pulled out the chair at the head of the table.

I walked over, but didn't move.

In there, sitting without permission meant getting slapped, over and over until your lips split.

"What are you waiting for?"

I lowered myself into the chair carefully.

Thirty seconds passed. No one hit me.

The utensils shook in my hands. I hadn't touched anything like them in three years.

We ate with our hands off metal trays on the floor, fighting over food. If you didn't finish in two minutes, you got beaten.

I set the utensils down, grabbed a rib, and shoved it into my mouth.

The bone hit my teeth, and my lip split. The taste of blood mixed with meat. I couldn't taste much, but at least it filled me up.

The sharp clack of utensils hitting the table made everyone look over.

Dad snapped, "William, what are you doing?"

My hand froze around the rib. The chair scraped back as I shot to my feet.

"Sir, I'm eating!"

"Enough!" Dad slammed his hand down on the table. "I spent all that money, and this is what you learned? Eating with your hands?"

I slid off the chair, my forehead knocking against the edge of the table.

"I'm sorry! I won't use my hands. I'll do better."

I picked up the bone and dropped to the floor. Both hands on the ground, I chewed like a dog, the motion automatic.

That should earn me some praise.

The room went quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner.

Judy's fork froze midair. She stared at me on the floor, her lips pressed tight.

"Dad… William…"

"Enough."

Dad rubbed his temple, then motioned for Judy to pull me up.

"Get up. Eat properly. I know you went through some things in there, but look at Judy now. That proves my method worked. From now on, be good. Don’t worry, I won't send you back."

He picked up his glass, his eyes moving over my face.

I had seen that same look on Vincent countless times.

"And you, Judy, take a good look at him. If you waste what he went through, I've got another place lined up for you, too."