Helena and the Rings

Chapter 3: Sunrise on a Dark Day

I took a quick look behind me to make sure I wasn't being followed. I was never a big fan of the dark, and riding alone wasn't making it easier. It seemed like every street light I passed something would jump out in front of me. Something or someone I didn't want to see. There were also murderers to worry about. Paranoid, I regretted my decision. However, it was too late to go back. I made it this far.

"What am I going to do now?" I whispered to myself. I really wasn't sure what I was doing. I stopped my bike in the middle of the empty road and looked back. The more I thought about turning around, the more I feared what Joe would do to me as well.

I put my foot back on the pedals, ready to move forward, but a strange sound caught me off guard. I looked behind me and heard a sound like a stick being stepped on. That was enough to send me pedaling away and to my uncle's house.

*Knock Knock knock*

I waited for an answer. The sun wasn't up yet, so I assumed that they were still sleeping. I was about to give up on knocking after ten loud attempts, remembering that my aunt and uncle were heavy sleepers. All of a sudden, Uncle Peter answered the door."

"Helena?" he asked, yawning. "What's going on? Come on inside."

My bike rested against the house. I assumed no one would take it. The inside of his house was warm and smelled like fresh baked bread. Uncle Peter lead me inside of the living room. I sat down on a chair and Uncle Peter gave me a blanket that had been on one of the couches. He turned on a dim lamp then went off into the kitchen.

"So, what happened, Hels?" He asked when he returned with two can Root Beer sodas.

I sighed, ready to tell him about Joe.

***

"That woman needs help," he shook his head. "I'm really sorry that happened. I'm shocked that she would bring another man into your house after what happened last time. I'll talk to her later on today."

"What do I do now? Are you taking me back? I really don't want to go home right now, Pete."

He rubbed his stub of a beard. "You can stay here, but just for a while. Not the whole day. She'll be looking for you. You shouldn't have run off into the night like that, young lady. There's no telling what could have happened. Did she wash your clothes last night?"

My clothes? Why was he so concerned about my clothes? My mom did wash the clothes every day, but it's not like it mattered. I always smelled like alcohol. "I believe so," I said.

"Those are the same clothes you had on yesterday," he said.

"So?" I almost wanted to yell.

"You can stay here. You'll have to go back later, but don't worry I'll talk to your mom about Joe."

I started to cry a little. Talking to my mom was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing ever went through to her head unless it was something that put me in danger. The only way that my mom would listen to Peter is if Joe put his hands on me and that's only in a sexual way. Hitting was okay because he was an adult and I was a teenager. To my mom, I had no rights.

A loud beeping sound went off. Uncle Peter went into the kitchen once more. "Be back in a minute," he said.

I wiped my tears away and looked at all the pictures that hung on the wall. There were many pictures of him and my Aunt Cindy. There were pictures of them skydiving, hiking, and doing other fun stuff. That's the kind of life I dreamed of but it seemed so far out of reach.

Uncle Peter came out of the kitchen with two warm pizza's on a plate. He handed it to me and smiled. "Here ya go. Your Aunt Cindy made this last night."