I’m lying in bed with Trigger’s head resting on my bare chest, his warm breath pushing across my skin. The bruises continue to fade, but the scars will remain forever.
Connor is across the room, snuggled under his blankets, the rhythm of his breathing telling me he is deeply asleep.
The room is dark. Only a few shadows from outside dance across the walls. He offers every night to leave a light on in case I’m afraid of the dark, but I assure him that darkness doesn’t scare me at all. It’s familiar in an almost comforting way. What lurked in the dark back there terrorized me, but it no longer lives.
No more pretending. No lies. I am who I am, and they accept me for it anyway. We don’t talk a lot about it, but we don’t have any more secrets.
Instead, we talk about their jobs and how hard they work and how much money they take out for taxes and insurance and how so little is left over to pay the bills. Despite that, they like what they do and are eager to work. I offer to get a job and help, but they say I need to focus on me first.
I’ll be going to counseling a couple of days a week. The other days, I’ll be tutored by teachers at the school and will work toward getting my GED. School doesn’t make sense for me since I missed so much, but they are confident they can get me caught up so I can get my diploma.
The weirdest discussion of all is that I don’t exist, at least not legally. I have no birth certificate or any records at all. The courts will solve that and make me legal, but I have to decide what name to use. Heather assured me I can use Theo McGregor if I want—it’s the name that has always belonged to me—but the sheriff suggested I might want to use something else. I can have a new name to go with my new family.
When we discussed it, Connor opened his mouth to say something, but I kicked him under the table. I knew what he wanted to say because we talked about it at night, but Heather wasn’t ready for that yet.
I want it to be her idea. And if she doesn’t get there, that’s okay too. I won’t ask. But I hope she will.
I’ve only had one brother in my life, the boy I spent years of darkness with. I wish he had been able to escape with me, because he was the best friend I ever had. And I think his brother will end up the second-best friend I’ve ever had, and he will end up like a brother too.
It’s funny. Back there, names never meant a whole lot. We barely even acknowledged our real ones. But out here, names are important. Names are for remembering. Names are for honoring.
Brothers should have the same last name. I hope someday that will be true.