Chapter 2

His smile. That's the first thing I noticed when I turned to look at him. His dimples were the cutest I'd ever seen. His green eyes seemed to glow as he looked at me, "What's your name?" he asked softly. His voice was rough as he spoke. 

"Justice," I replied, holding my hand out to him. He took it, kissing the back of my hand like in some old-fashioned movie. Blush heated my cheeks at his move. "I'm Niko, nice to meet you." He slowly released my hand before placing it back on the steering wheel. 

"So what could be so important that it has you thinking you can run faster than a train?" his gaze seemed to burn straight through me. 

"Umm," I stuttered, shaking my head and forcing myself not to start crying, "My mother is at the hospital and they said I couldn't ride in the ambulance with her, so I was trying to get there," I confessed, "I'm all she has," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I really had no idea you really did have an emergency." 

"It's okay. How could you have known?" 

"But you know, you wouldn't be any good to her if you were hit by a train." 

Hearing him say that and realizing what I really had considered doing made me feel stupid. "I know," I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed, "I just...'

"You just weren't thinking. Understandable," he finished my sentence. 

"Yeah," I guess. A tear slipped down and then another. I quickly tried wiping them as I turned my head to the window. 

"Hey," his voice was soft, "Look at me." 

I faced him, keeping my eyes down.

He gently wiped away my tears, his hands rough and soft at the same time. I'd never had a boyfriend...well, unless you count my playground boyfriend in elementary. I raised my eyes, finding him staring at me. I sat there staring at him, trying to figure out why he was being so nice and gentle with me. He didn't know me, and it wasn't hard to tell I was from this side of town...and he obviously wasn't. His car, clothes, and everything about him screamed money. Something I didn't have. 

"Everything is going to be okay," he seemed so confident in his words, but how could he be? He didn't even know what had happened. At this very moment, I wasn't even sure if my mother was still alive or not. "You don't know that," I told him. Not wanting to get my hopes up too high. My mother had never taken it this far, but I couldn't lie to myself and say I didn't see this coming at some point. 

"No," he sighed, "I don't, but you have to stay positive. What happened?" 

I shook my head, unsure if I should tell him. What if he thinks I'm the same as my mother and decides not to give me a ride? I looked back out the window, now streaked with rain. It was pouring, the sky almost as dark as the night. "She overdosed," I finally responded, "I don't do drugs," I quickly added. 

"I know that," he told me as he placed the car in drive and began moving. I looked at him, confused. "Look," he told me, "it's not hard to tell if someone does drugs or not." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "Don't you agree?" 

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I mean, most of the time you can tell if someone is on drugs, but I know of a few rich kids at school who are completely hooked, but you can't tell just by looking at them. "No," I told him, "Most of the time yes, but not always." 

He nodded in agreement, "I guess that's true." 

Silence filled the car as I got lost in my thoughts. What am I supposed to do? If she survives, will she get clean? Will she finally stop all her habits? Will she get a job and help me with the bills, food, and things we need? Will this be the wake-up call she so needs? 

But what if she doesn't make it? What am I going to do? I'm almost eighteen, and maybe the landlord will let me keep living there as long as I pay the rent. I was already going to ask for more hours down at the diner. If they give me more hours, then I might be able to pull it off. It would be hard, but I would have to do it. I have no one to help me. Neither one of my parents was in contact with their families. Said they had a Romeo and Juliet love. I don't even know their names or where they are actually from. Mom always told me it didn't matter because this was their home now. 

"Leave the past in the past," she always told me. I even asked her recently, but she rolled her eyes and told me to give up; they don't care about us, just like we don't care about them. But I can't say I don't care about them. I don't know what happened to cause the fallout, but I was desperate at the time. I needed help with the light bill, and I couldn't get any more hours. I was short one hundred dollars, and I still needed to buy groceries for the house. I explained this to her, telling her maybe they would help us. My mother had never been mad at me until I said that. Ever since then, she's treated me differently. Like she can't stand me most days. She acts like she is disappointed in me. The only good thing that came from that conversation was that she left the house and came back the next day with three hundred dollars. She threw it at me, "There, you wanted money." 

I'll never know how she got the money, and I honestly don't want to know, but my mind went to a few different ways she could have gotten it, and I hated each one. I never asked or brought up money or family again. I would rather go without than think of my mother doing unspeakable and unsafe things for a little bit of cash. 

"We're here," his rough voice split through my thoughts. I realized we were indeed at the hospital, and he had pulled under the covering at the front entrance. "I'll park the car and be in," he told me, slipping his hand in mine. "Thank you," I told him gratefully, "But you don't have to come in. You don't even know me." 

He kissed the back of my hand, "No, but I would like to, and everyone needs someone sometimes."