Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.
Sam rubbed her eyes and rolled over. The warm sun crept through the blinds and splashed onto her sheets, slowly warming everything it found.
She dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into her parent’s mismatched dining room. Right away, she noticed something was missing: her parents.
Instead, Sheriff Thompson sat at their dilapidated kitchen table. He was a heavyset, balding man with enormous gray eyebrows and an equally impressive mustache that stretched almost all the way to his ears. This was not the first time the sheriff had to pay their house a visit.
To put it mildly, life in her house was chaotic. Her parents were artistic types, which meant they were often “in-between” jobs and there wasn’t always food on the table.
They also chose their friends and associates poorly. For as long as Sam could remember, her house was a revolving door for unsavory, unwashed, dangerous people. The kind of people who showed up at the wrong time wanting something and stayed longer than they should even when they got it.
As a little girl, Sam had a sense that her parents were doing bad things. Her other proof was the visits from Sheriff Thompson.
The sheriff knew her parents well. He was there to watch her father growing up, and it broke his heart to see what they had become. He was determined to save them if he could.
Thompson made unplanned visits to their house every few weeks. He would show up, say hi to Sam and ask how her school was going. Then he and her parents would go to the back of the house to talk.
The talks never went well. They would start calm, but they always turned into a fight. Sometimes she would hear her parents shouting, sometimes it was the sheriff she heard yelling.
The last fight they had was the worst. Sam could hear Thompson’s voice first raised to a shout then down to a plaintive tone so quiet she could barely hear it even in that tiny little house.
When he left that night, he looked like a broken man. He walked slowly past Sam, patted her gently on the back, and then he was gone. Her parents never came out of their room.
Sam went to bed in a house filled with tension and sadness, and she woke up to the sheriff at her kitchen table. Thompson had Sam’s backpack and a beat-up suitcase on the floor beside him.
“Honey, we need to talk.”
The sheriff told her that her parents left. He said they left him a voicemail late last night saying they couldn’t take it anymore and didn’t want to be there anymore.
Thompson told her he’d been there since last night to make sure she was safe.
“Grab some clothes and anything else you want to take with you. I got in touch with your aunt Betty. She lives in Blackway, and she's going to let you stay with her for a while. Take your time; we’ll leave when you’re ready.”
What was Sam supposed to say? It was too much information to take in at once. She nodded and robotically said thank you. Sam moved around her room in a daze, grabbing clothes, CDs, and books.
She packed her stuff in the bags, looked back at her house for the last time, and walked out to the sheriff’s squad car.
Thompson took her to the bus station, paid for a one-way ticket to Blackway, and helped her to load her bags onto the bus.
“Sam, I want you to call me when you get into town and let me know you're safe,” Thompson said.
“I’m going to call you every week and see how things are going.” He said.
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson. Thank you so much.”
Her voice sounded tiny and weak to her ears.
Thompson took one look at her and pulled her into a bear hug.
“I’m so sorry, hon. I should have done more for you.” He said. “You’re like family to me. Call me anytime day or night, and I’ll come running, okay?” He gently let her go, so she could get on the bus.
“I will, Mr. Thompson,” she said, “Thank you for all of this. I won’t forget how much you helped me or how much you tried to help mom and dad.”
Sam said this just before stepping up onto the bus. She was the last passenger to board; the bus was just above to leave.
Sam found her seat and caught sight of Thompson standing on the curb, looking up at her with his immense, sad eyes.
She waved to him and yelled thank you one more time before the bus revved up and pulled away from the curb.
Sam finally had a chance to sit with her thoughts and emotions.
“This sucks,” she said out loud to herself.