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I felt something stir within me. It flooded throughout me. I was going to be in Ripley soon. My hope for a new life there was rising higher than I would like but I couldn't control it. Anyways it was a lot better than thinking about all the hurt and loneliness. Some doubt trickled through but it was quickly told to shut up by my high hopes. I started to see my future roll out in front of me. I saw a nice aunt and grandparents. I didn't have grandparents that I could remember. Dad's parents had died before I was born. But my imagination ran wild. They would be so nice and supportive of me. They would never yell at me or hit me. They wouldn't care that I loved boys like girls. I would go to the high school there and be top of the class again. I would be the starter for their varsity baseball team. I would be popular and everybody would love me. No one would know besides my family about me being gay. They didn't need to know. Then I would go to college, preferably playing baseball for them also. I wanted to become a Major League baseball player. I wanted to be one of the greats, having kids look up to me as their hero. Yeah, that's what I wanted. With that I closed my eyes, feeling the train roll beneath me and let all my stiff, sore muscles relax. Slowly I drifted off into much needed sleep.

I was running down my old familiar hallway and into my room. Blood was streaming down my nose and down me. Behind me I could curses coming from his rough voice. His threats of what he was going to do to me when he got a hold of me. Fear drummed in my ears as I quickly closed the door to my room. His loud, angry fist beat up against the door, demonstrating what they could do to me. I scrambled with the lock, my hands to shaky to actually work. He busted through the door, sending me across the room. I reached for my baseball bat, seeing the murderous look shimmer in his eyes. I was going to die. I was going to die at the hands of my father. As he crept closer to me, I swung the bat at him, trying to defend myself. He dodged it and clutched it. I saw it go above his head. I screamed for help as it came right down.

I jerked awake, disoriented by the loud, screeching halt. I was still shaking with fear. My brain was trying to catch up. Wait I was in Ripley. These next few hours were going to dictate the start of my new life. I was going to leave behind those nightmares of hell. Alright Spencer as long as you do nothing stupid, you will have a new home. My stomach twisted. But I couldn't just stand around here. I was going to be found and that just couldn't happen. It wouldn't be good. I jump out of the train and snuck into the train station. This station was even smaller than the last. There was about ten old red chairs. Half of them looked to be broken. An elderly lady stood behind a ticket booth. I walked out calmly but inside my mind raced way ahead of me. Would they take me in? What if they didn't? I didn't want to end up like Carl. I was almost out of money with nowhere else to go. I needed this place. Calm down. Do one thing at a time. First I needed to find them. I looked closely at the bawled up paper with my mom's scrawled handwriting for the first time since I left. It only said Ripley,MI. There was no street name or numbers. My heart sank. Why didn't she write down the address. Then another guy-wrenching thought went through my head. What if they had moved? It's been at least sixteen years since they last had contact. They could be dead for all I know. Panic started to set in. Okay, Spencer, breathe. We need to start collecting information. Let's look them up and go from there. One problem at a time. Where was a directory then? Probably in the post office. Let's start there. With that new goal set, I started walking around downtown. All the buildings were brick and looked to be over a hundred years old. Not much seemed to have ever changed. They must like the eighteen hundreds, I guess. People walked around on the cracked sidewalks, staring me down. I had almost forgotten the distrust of strangers in a small town. I had to be a sight for sore eyes for them. I hadn't cleaned up more than a quick swim in a river in over a week. Hmm. maybe that smell on the train was me. Eww I hoped not. I couldn't check out here in the open. They thought I was weird enough as it is. So I casually continued to stroll down these sunny streets, ignoring the piercing stares until I found the post office. Inside I saw a payphone with a telephone book underneath. I went in, with the bell signaling my entrance. The older man noted my presence and continued talking to the lady he was helping. I went over to the telephone book and started to flip through it. I'm looking for Hartman. Hmm...I found three names: Albert, Cindy, Niccole,. Niccole was the only ones that sounded familiar. I think she was my mom's sister. I had names and addresses, that was something. One of them had to be alive and current. I looked up Niccole's address and kept repeating in over and over again in my head. I would try to find it on my own and if I couldn't then I would ask for help. Surely someone would know and be able to help me. As I turned around to leave, I bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I said, embarrassed. Way to go, Spencer, you just got here and you're already taking people out. I looked up at the woman. Undoubtedly, she looked just like my mom but there was a bright glow in her hazel eyes that Mom never had. I was 99.9 per cent sure, she was my aunt Niccole.

"Spencer?" She asked, surprised. One hundred per cent now. I nodded. She wrapped me in a tight hug, exclaiming, "You were only a baby the last time I saw you! What happened? Why are you here?" I swallowed hard, pushing down all my emotions.

"I..uh...had to leave. My mom sent me here."  I said, averting my eyes downward. She looked shocked but gathered herself together.

"Come with me to the house. It is only a street away." She said, her voice high with concern. I nodded. We walked in silence to her house. The only time she said anything was in reply to a good morning or hello. Nobody looked at me with distrust anymore. They all smiled and waved now. I only returned with a small wave. We turned down Aunt Niccole's street. I was confused. It was mainly stores. Why was she taking me to a store?

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to mask my confusion and distrust.

"Your grandparents own a store. They live above it. I live on the street behind." She explained.

"Y'all own a store?" I asked.

"Your mom didn't tell you anything, did she? We own a general store. It's been in our family seventy five years."

"Oh." was all I said. We walked up to a store front. Like all the buildings here it was a two stories and made of old brick. The large glass picture window had peeling blue letters announcing, Hartman's Goods since 1937. We went inside. Inside was like a throwback to the thirties. Wooden panels lined the floors. A large wooden ceiling fan remained idle, hanging from the ceiling. Everything you could ever need was stacked on wooden shelves pushed up against the walls. Behind the cash register stood an older man in his sixties or seventies helping out a woman and her kid. He didn't look up at us but another woman around his age looked up at us from a box she was unpacking. Her warm brown eyes lit up, shining the whole room if they could.

"Oh my gosh." She whispered, putting her hands over her lips. The older man looked up at us now. He looked speechless.

"Ma, Dad this is Spencer." Aunt Niccole said, stating the obvious. Aunt Niccole and my grandmother were both teary eyed and smiling. My grandfather looked happy and shocked beyond belief. I couldn't explain any more than that. No one had ever been happy or cried when they saw me so I wasn't sure if I was right or not. Maybe it was the fact I was their only grandchild and they hadn't seen me in sixteen years. They didn't know I was a disappointment yet.

My grandmother wrapped her arms around me. "Where is your mother? And why do you look like you went through the O'Brien's farm?" She asked, pulling away and looking at me. I moved my eyes back down unable to say the truth to what seemed to be the sweetest lady alive.

"Ma, he told me he ran away." Aunt Niccole said, speaking up. I looked up slightly to see everybody staring at me. Thankfully the woman and kid were long gone by now.

"Why don't y'all go upstairs and I'll go get Billy to watch the store." Grandpa said, the first to speak.

"Yeah." Grandma said to Grandpa. Then she turned to me and said, "Our house is upstairs this way." She gestured to a door in the back of the store. I nodded. We went through the large door that held a large staircase behind it. On the walls surrounding the staircase were pictures of I guess my family. There was lots of Aunt Niccole and my mom when they were younger. I was surprised to see how pretty and lively she looked back then. She was so different now. My father probably had to do something with that, I thought. Then I noticed a picture of me when I was baby. At my old house, that was the only picture of me that hung on the walls. Around that time was when they must have stopped seeing my family. It was probably my dad again who had something to do with that.

The stairs led to a large living room. Everything in there was neat and tidy. On the red and green plaid couches were red throw pillows. In the corner of the room, sat a wooden rocking chair with a knitted white quilt strewn across it. Next to the chair was a sewing basket. No electronic devices were stationed in the room besides an old analog clock.

"Sit, child." Grandma said, pointing to the couch. I sat down, basking in how comfortable it was. Grandma sat down in the rocking chair and Aunt Niccole sat next me. Grandpa came in and sat down.

"What happened, son?" Grandpa asked. I looked up in his friendly grey eyes. Hopefully they wouldn't change by the time I was done. I breathed in for a moment, looking away. Was I ready for the rug to be pulled out from under me? Could I handle it if it did? I was here now and it was too late. I breathed out and began to tell my story. As I spoke I kept my head down, too ashamed to look for the disgust glowing in their eyes. Telling the story was hard enough as it was. It had reopened all the pain I hid away. I could hear my voice talking but I was too immersed in the memories playing in my head. I felt like I was being subjected to that day again. All that hurt, anger, and betrayl being thrown right back at me. My words became drowned out by hearing evey name I had been called, Dean Haynes yelling at me, Mom's sobs, and lastly Dad's threats. They kept endlessly repeating themselves like a broken record until they just all mixed together.

"It's okay, Spencer." Aunt Niccole said, pulling me out of the wave of memories. She grabbed a hold of my shaking hand. Why weren't they shunning me? They didn't seem to hate me, especially her. I was too afraid to ask why. I wanted to prolong me leaving.

I felt trickles of blood flow out my hand. I hadn't realized that I was shaking so much that it had aggravated my cut. "What happened to your hand?" She asked, turning my bloody hand over.

"I cut it on glass a few nights ago." I mumbled. Don't ask how, I repeated over and over in my head. A large growl in my stomach saved me from looming question.

"When is the last time you ate?" Grandma asked, her attention focused on my empty stomach now.

"Yesterday morning." I answered, quickly. I had a doughnut and orange juice, not very filling. I was ready to eat all the food in this town. Crappy gas station food was tiring and usually left me sick afterwards.

"Goodness, boy." Grandma exclaimed. "We will take you to the diner but first you need to take a shower because quite frankly you don't smell very good." She said, confirming my earlier fears. I just nodded, hoping my eyes showed how grateful I was. Aunt Niccole stood up.

"The shower is this way." She said, pointing to the hallway. I followed her to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. She showed me how to work the shower. "I'll take care of your hand after you shower."

"Thank you." I said, surprised. I was still waiting for them to kick me out. Maybe they didn't hear me correctly. I didn't know what else they would have thought I said but maybe that happened. For now I would stay silent. At least until I had a shower and have a decent meal. Then I could start my journey back to God knows where.

Aunt Niccole just nodded and left. I took off my shirt, exposing my bruised upper half. The bruises weren't as bad as before but they still looked nasty. I wish they would go away quicker. Alas they hadn't. I looked in the mirror before hopping in the shower. I looked so different now. Dirt was smeared in odd places all over me. Half of them I didn't know how they gotten there. There was still a cut on my cheek from the fight in the locker room. My icy blue eyes were sadder now. Actually my whole face looked sad. Maybe it was just because of all the dirt. I sighed and hopped into the hot water running water. This shower felt almost as good as that night in Carl's car. The smelly grime of the past week or so slide off me and swirled down the drain. Never again would I take a shower for granted. I turned to find some soap. It was all girl scents. I'm not sexist or anything but I was gay and didn't want to push it that far. But I couldn't be picky. I just have been a long time without any soap or running water. Eventually I succumbed to lavender body wash and strawberry shampoo. I cursed once when I got soap in my cut. In minutes the shower was filled with lavender and strawberry scented bubbles. I think I used too much. Nah, I thought as I popped a floating bubble. I messed around, soaking in all the water before I had to leave. I didn't know why they were being so nice to me. It was just going to make it worse when they told me to leave. I was trying to prepare myself for the sting of rejection. To be honest, it was going to suck. Popping one last bubble, I turned off the shower and jumped out. I put on my last pair of clean clothes, a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. I looked in the mirror again. I still looked painfully sad. I didn't think it was ever going to change, especially after today. I sighed, manning up and going back out to the living room.

Everybody was in deep discussing when I came out but abruptly stopped when they noticed me. Great they were talking about me. Probably trying to figure out the best way to tell me to hit the road. Then I noticed a kid my age on the couch, sitting next to Aunt Niccole. Who was he? How much did he know? Did he know I was gay? Did he know about the abuse? Did he hate me? Shut up, Spencer. Why do you care? You didn't know his name and you were never going to see him again.

"Spencer, is everything okay?" Aunt Niccole asked, her eyes big with concern. I must have been showing my thoughts on my face.

"Umm...Yes, ma'am but could you wrap up my hand. It's still bleeding." I said. She looked at me, a little confused for a moment. They all did. I lifted up my blood stained hand.

"Oh, yes." She said, closing her eyes for a moment in realization. "I was going to have umm...Billy help you with that." Billy? Why this kid? It wasn't like he had any medical knowledge. "Billy's parents are doctors so I thought he would be better off doing it." Of course. I looked over at him. He smiled at and gave me an encouraging wave. I almost smiled at him but then I thought of Adam. I wasn't going to get crushed again. I couldn't trust this sweet, innocent looking boy no matter how much I wanted to. I just nodded.

"Mrs. Hartman, where do you keep your first aid kit?" Billy asked, jumping up.

"In the bathroom closet, sweetie." Grandma said. Billy brushed passed me, sending electric shocks down me and smiled. Did he want me to follow or just stay put? Billy poked his handsome head back from behind the doorway.

"You are comin'?" He asked, with an encouraging smile. Through the slight annoyance. I felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. I think that's why I felt so annoyed.

Annoyed, I went in to the bathroom. Billy was sitting on the counter, going through the little, white first aid kit. I just stood in the doorway, feeling mesmerized. His curly jet black hair fell into his stunning mossy green eyes. He kept blowing it out of his eyes with his slightly uneven lips. Damn, he was beautiful. I hated it so much. I hadn't talked to him yet but I still felt such a strong attraction to him. He looked up at me with his wide eyes. My heart skipped a beat.

"I won't bite at least not too hard." he said with a little wink. Was he flirting with me? No, I was just making it up. He was just being nice to me before I got kicked to the curb.

I walked up to him, not saying anything, not even cracking him a smile. I stared at him, searching his handsome eyes to find out what he knew. I wanted him to be clueless about me. I wanted somebody to have a good image of me.

"Give me your hand." He said, taking my hand. An electric shock went straight through my hand and south. We both looked up at each other. I knew he felt it too. I was so confused. He shouldn't have felt that, especially not with me. But I couldn't focus on that too long because he started cleaning up my cut with an alcohol wipe from hell.

"Ow..Shit. What the hell?" I asked, pulling back my hand. Damn that hurt.

"Stop being a baby." Billy teased. I gave him my hand back but I continued cursing under my breath as he cleaned my cut. "You really should have gotten stitches." He murmured. Like I could of, I scoffed in my head.

I watched, intently as he wrapped my hand up in soft gauze. His eyes zeroed in on my hand. He bit his, what I'm guessing would be delicious tasting lip. Each time his warm skin brushed against mine, my heart skipped a beat.

"Alright, I'm done." Billy said, snapping the first aid kit closed. I looked at my tightly wrapped hand and then up at him. I didn't know what to say.

"You know most people say thank you, right?"

"Thanks," I muttered, half grateful, half annoyed.

"You finally said something to me." Billy exclaimed. I felt a slight blush form on my cheeks.

"Was cussing not included?" I asked, feeling a smile tug at my lips.

"No, I like thank you a lot more." Billy said, smiling. He was witty and adorable. Gosh, he was making this so hard. "Anyways you're welcome." He slid off the counter and put the first aid kit under the sink.

"I got to get back to the store so I'll see you around." He said, making the last half a question. I nodded my lie, just wanting to make him feel reassured. I knew this was the last time I would see him. I took in his beautiful eyes one last time. I wanted to kiss him. But I couldn't. No wouldn't ruin this. I would look back and have no regrets or bad memories. I was at peace with that, as I walked behind him out the bathroom.

"He's all taped up and yours now. Enjoy." Billy said, smiling. He turned towards me, giving me a wink. Weird but adorable kid.

"Thanks, Billy." Grandma said, as her and Aunt Niccole stood up.

"It was no problem." Billy said, respectfully. "I should get back to the store. It is almost time to open back up."

"Okay. Call us if you need anything." Grandma said.

"I will ma'am." He said and left. I waited for them to speak first, searching to see if they were going to kick me out.

"Okay, let's not waste any more time and eat. I'm sure you're hungry, Spencer." Grandpa said, standing up. I nodded.

"We are going to go to Turtle's Diner, It's the best food in town." Grandma told me.

"Umm...Mrs. Hartman," I said, not sure if she wanted me to call her grandma or not."I don't know if I'll have enough money to repay you." She hit me hard on the back of my head.

"Ow." I said, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of my head. What did I do?

"You don't have to pay if you're part of this family especially if you are living with us."

"What? I'm living here?" I asked, not trusting my ears. They were playing with me. They must be.

"Did you not hear me boy? You're only sixteen. You need an education and where else are you going to go?" She said, continuing her rant.

"Thank you so much." I said, not being able to express how grateful I was. They were being so nice to me. I didn't deserve it. I didn't know if I could ever repay them.

"Anything for you, Spencer dear." She said, returning to sweet, little old lady. "By the way if you call me Mrs. Hartman again, I will slap you harder. It's Grandma."

"Yes, Grandma." I said, smiling. Weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had a place to call home for the next two years. My dream for the future was able to come true now. There was no way I could ever repay them but I would try to for the rest of my life.

We went downstairs and through the store. I saw Billy talking to a middle-aged man at the counter. He looked up at me and gave me his charming, beautiful smile. In return I gave him a small smile but that's all I ever could give him. My lips frowned at that realization.

"What's wrong?" Aunt Niccole asked, seeing my sudden frown. I looked back through the window at the bubbly Billy and said, "Nothing." She nodded, smiling. As we walked to the diner, they showed me the town. All I did was nod and feign interest. It wasn't that I wasn't interested, it was just my mind was too full, trying to wrap itself around everything. Right now, it just couldn't.

"Here we are." Grandma announced. I jerked my head up to find an old diner with bright, big red letters saying, Turtle's Diner. My mouth began to water at the smell of burgers and chicken wagting into my nose. A growl rumbled through me, screaming for food. Thankfully we wasted no time in getting in and being sat down by a waitress my age named Jenny. She had curly black hair and small dark brown eyes. She was pretty just wrong parts.

"Hi, y'all." She said, handing us menus. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Tea." They all said in unison.

"Umm...water." I said, breaking up the pattern. I always got water at restaurants. Dad always said it was too expensive for anything but water. I could hear his voice telling me, "Boy, you better get water and not waste anymore of my money." God, I hated that voice. I shook it off and looked at my menu. I scanned the menu for the cheapest prices but my eyes kept wandering to the somewhat expensive bacon cheeseburger. Man, I really wanted one but I wasn't going to be a financial burden on them. Not anymore than what I already was.

"What can I get y'all for today?" Jenny asked, coming over with our drinks. She took out a little black notepad, looking eager. They all ordered. "For you?" She asked me.

"A umm...combo one." I said, flustered. I didn't know why I was so agitated. Everyone was staring at me. Grandma's eyes pierced right through me, seeing my soul. It almost reminded me of my dad when he thought I was up to no good but something else was in those brown eyes. I had no idea what though.

"Jenny, dear get him a bacon cheeseburger also." Grandma ordered. sweetly. Jenny nodded, smiling.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Hartman." She said, turning around and leaving.

"Spencer, please don't feel like you are burdening us because you aren't. We are so very glad you are here." Grandma said, the warmth in her eyes expressing how sincere her words were. At the moment I knew what her eyes possessed that my dad's didn't: care. The only reason I recognized it was because sometimes I saw it in my mom's eyes. But that was only when my dad was gone and she was nursing my injuries after he beat me. My vision was overtaken by those memories for a couple of seconds but I quickly blinked them away before the pain came washing in again.

"I know." I lied. They all knew I was lying but I don't think any of them had the heart to call me out. I took a sip of water, seeing what their next move would be. There was none. We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Can we ask you a few questions?" Grandpa asked, breaking the silence. His grey eyes burning with questions.

"Yes, sir." I said, looking down at my water.

"How was your mother?" He asked, stirring his tea with a straw. I looked up at him confused. "Was she ever...? Did he ever.....?" He stopped stirring his tea, unable to finish the sentence. I knew what he meant though.

"No he never laid a hand on her. Just me." I reassured him. All their eyes expressed overwhelming amounts of pity. I looked down to shield myself against it.

"How long has he been hurting you?" Aunt Niccole asked in a whisper. I thought back to my earliest memory of my father. It was buried deep but once dug up, it was crystal clear.

I was five, just in kindergarten. I got off the bus stop, crying because my card had been moved to yellow and Ms. Evans had sent home a note. Looking back now, it wasn't such a big deal but to my five year old self it was the biggest deal of all. I had never gotten in trouble at school or home before. I didn't know what was going to happen once I got back home. My tiny knees trembled all the way to my house. My mom was the only one there. She was extremely disappointed but she didn't yell. She never did. But I knew the worse was to come: my father. He yelled a lot but was never violent towards us. I was scared of him anyways especially now. That day he came home angry, really angry. He read the note and silently set it back down on the table. I sat there, shaking and waiting for the yelling to begin but it never came. Only his hands did. I remembered every blow he dealt to me and the blood rushing from my mouth and nose on to my shirt. I remembered the fear pulsing through me as his fist pounded into me. I remembered screaming for him to stop and for Mom to help me. He didn't stop for almost a half an hour. Mom just never came to help me. She just sat and watched. All she ever did for me was clean me up afterwards and hide the bruises with makeup. That was the start of my life. The only thing that ever changed was the screaming. I learned that wouldn't change a damn thing. Dad would just keep hitting me and Mom would just keep watching and crying.

"Spencer." Aunt Niccole called out to me, burying back those memories.

"Five. I was five." I said, bringing myself back. My hands slowly stopped shaking. Tears stung my eyes but I blinked them back. I didn't want to be out here in public while I was having one those flashbacks. They didn't need to know my business. Heck I didn't even want my own family to know it.

"How bad was it, Spencer?" She asked her voice back low again.

"I still have bruises from him." I admitted. Tears were now in both my grandma's and Aunt Niccole's eyes. "I'm sorry." I mumbled.

"For what, boy?" Grandma asked, wiping her eyes.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." I said, embarrassed.

"Oh, Spencer, you're such a sweet boy." Grandma said, smiling. I looked back at my water. I had so many questions to ask but fear choked me before I could get them out. So all I could do was nod and take a sip of water.

"We'll talk more later."Grandpa said, saving me.

"Thanks." I said, finally getting words out. Then Jenny came over with our food. My stomach growled, begging for me to begin the attack on the burger. I lead the charge before Jenny walked away. My first few bites didn't stay in my mouth for more than a millisecond. The meat that barely touched my tongue shot bursts of flavor that were not short than God-like. This was a burger made by angels. I had to suppress a moan.

"Slow down, Spencer. I promise it will still be there no matter how long you take with a bite." Aunt Niccole said, interrupting my moment with the burger. I just nodded, slowing down. I savored every bite I took. Maybe I forgot what real food tasted like but this was the most amazing food that ever graced my lips. By the time I was finished devouring the burger, the plate was spotless. Not one crumb was left on the red plastic plate. Even with slowing down, I was still finished way before everyone else. They were talking amongst themselves. I had no idea what they were talking about since I was eating when they began the conversation. It sounded pretty boring but I listened anyways because it was so much better than listening to thoughts in my head.

"Are you all done, Spencer?" Grandma asked, as they were finishing. I was still hungry but it was fuller than I had been since I left so I said, "Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome." Grandma said, sweetly. We got the check and they paid. Grandpa left a tip for Jenny before we left.

Walking to the house with a semi-full, warm belly brightened my outlook a little. This was my new home now. I still felt weary of what was to come in the next two years but for now I was home. I had no father waiting to beat me when I got home. I wasn't hiding anymore even though I wasn't coming out to the town. I had no need to. I just feel secure and I was going to hold onto that for as long as possible.

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