• "Are you ready to go?"

    "Yeah, Uncle Kevin, I'm coming!"

    My name is Jamie Samson. I'm sixteen years old. I'm a normal height for my age, about five feet, five inches. I like to play sports at my school and hang out with my friends any chance I get. My friends know everything about me. Well, they don't know one part of my life: my parents treat me like a slave.

    My parents expect me to be their servant, being humble to them and following their every command. If I don't do something right, I get hurt. Dad hits me and calls me a "good-for-nothing-waste-of-life". Mom just sits there, watching me die inside and refuses to help me.

    I always tried to cover the bruises, but somehow, Uncle Kevin found out about them. He always knew if something was wrong. He went to court to try to fight for custody for me, and he won. Now I'm moving into his house.

    As I place my things into the trunk of his blue honda civic, I smile brightly. I feel him watch me. "You excited, kiddo?"

    I look up at him, hesitate, and answer, "Y-yeah! I can't wait!" In reality, I was a little nervous, but I played it off with another smile.

    He raises an eyebrow, "You ok?"

    "Yeah, don't worry," I couldn't help but wonder what that glint in his brown eyes were when I felt him watch me put my things into the car.

    We pull into the driveway next to a cream colored, two-story house. I grab my stuff and stand there, looking at the house and the neighborhood we were in.

    "Isn't it great?" I hear Uncle Kevin ask as I feel him wrap an arm around my waist.

    "Yes, it is," I answer, curious of my uncle's behavior.

    We walk inside, and I am blown away by the interior. It was simple, but elegant. The walls were a pastel blue, with framed pictures of me and the rest of the family along the wall. As I look at the pictures, I see a picture from our family reunion two years ago. I stood away from my parents with Uncle Kevin, and his hand was resting on my shoulder. I look around the living room and sit down on the brown leather couch.

    “Jamie, what do you think?”

    I look up towards my uncle, slightly startled, “It’s great! Your house is so pretty.”

    He laughs a little and sits down next to me, “Thanks. I took your things to your room already. Why don’t you come upstairs?”

    “Sure, why not?”

    Uncle Kevin takes me by the hand and leads me up the stairs. He shows me my room, which has earth green walls with a queen size bed in the middle with a white comforter that has black peace signs on it. I saw that there was a Paramore poster on the wall. (How did he know that they were my favorite band?)

    As I take in my new room, I feel my shoulders being massaged from behind, and I turn and look towards my uncle, “W-what are you-”

    “Ssh. It’s ok.” He puts a finger to my lips to silence me and slides his other hand down my body. I hear him breathe heavier as his hand moves lower. “I want you to feel welcome; sleep in my room with me tonight,” he whispers in my ear, sounding out of breath.

    Confused, I just stare into my uncle’s eyes, contemplating what I should do. I sigh silently and reluctantly agree, “Alright.”

    We walk into Uncle Kevin’s room and lay on his bed. Like my bed, it is a queen, but with dark red sheets. He holds me close and I stay still and calmly follow his lead…

    Later, Uncle Kevin holds me close to him, in a spooning position. I hear him breathe softly and he seems happy and content. I, however, was not. I could not help but feel a little awkward about what I just experienced.

    Is this normal? I think to myself as I fall asleep.