My One & Only (Ashrald)

Chapter 3

She loved him. He loved her. But my mother’s family did not understand my parents. Both my mom and dad then decided that the love they have is worth the risk. They lived peacefully and the love they shared was something I would want to have someday. But the good love story was ended by a fatal car accident. My life crumbled before my very eyes.

Few weeks after my parent’s death, I was put into care with a family. The family earned benefits for taking care of me but the money they earned from me were used to fuel their addiction. Illegal drugs.

The first few days with them were promising – the social welfare volunteer regularly checked us and I was happy to see that someone could take care of me. I was wrong. Once the volunteer stopped their weekly routines, the abuses soon came in.

I was scared, horrified and threatened to death. The father of the family would just slam me against the wall, cursed at me that I was bringing bad luck to them. After taking some drugs, he would just slap me, punch my gut and cuss at me why I was not bringing anything good to them. Ironic that might sound but I was young back then. I was easily fooled.

I wanted to report their abuses but the family would just threaten me. I could not afford to risk everything. I was doing quite well at Burdon and with the sports scholarship on my shoulder, I kept assuring myself that all of this will come past; I only have to swallow three more bitter years with them then I will be out of their lives for college.

My chance of getting out of their clutches was close. It was Christmas of my second year when a volunteer knocked in to check on me and saw the bruises on my chin. I was going to tell her straight then what happened, but the family I was in would just tell the volunteers that I had clumsily fell from the stairs or that it was from my basketball practices. I protested. But who would believe me? The volunteer of course believed the other two!

The beatings, the whippings, the abuses continued. I wanted to get out. I wanted to cry foul. But I had nowhere to go.

The summer before my junior year, I discovered a way to save up for my allowance. Teenagers were all crazed up on it and with my popularity as a jock at school, words soon came out that I was doing it. The rich kids at my school would bet all their money on me; the gals dig me for doing it as well – an added bonus. I knew for a fact that there are unimaginable expenses tagged with senior year. And from then on, though I knew it was illegal, it was my only way.

Drag racing. It was exhilarating. It made me forget of all the problems I have of the world. We would end up on an empty street, revving our engines up at night away from civilization. With my name being built up, I tasted exercising power. I was unbeatable at school and no one could ever beat me to it. My life was turning up at a corner at last.

When the wife of the house died due to drug overdose, that was then when the Social Welfare realised how all the puzzle fitted. The Social Welfare volunteers then concluded that the family I was in was not fit enough to take care of me. It took them months to figure out. I was then put into care of another family, the Williams.

The Williams were all out supporting me to finish my last year at school. But I could not trust anyone. I still reverted back using drag racing to earn some cash. Problems soon started when one of my team members challenged a local gang of drag racers. He was cocky enough that we will be able to defeat the local gang. We did. But the gang would not accept their loss. I soon got into troubles with the gang pressuring us to have a rematch. I hesitated. From my experiences of living on my own, I knew for a fact that they would have dirty tricks up their sleeves. Heck I was right.  

One of my members got shot. He lived, but the police got into the picture. It was pretty messed up. My foster family then started questioning me about my drag racing life and I could not help to just plead for their forgiveness. I was stupid enough to prejudice them that they would not take care of me. I should have listened to them. But who can blame me? A sixteen year old who have experienced a pretty miserable life able to trust people quickly? After what I have been through I only was able to trust myself! But then the Williams became my rock. I soon realised that the two, Mr and Mrs Williams, really cared for me.