No one liked being the new kid. Life was unpredictable and unfair, and Adam was due to attend public school for the first time at fifteen years old. He was living in a new province, with a brother he hardly remembered, struggling to make friends at his new school. It wasn’t all bad. For the first time, he’d begun to feel like a normal teenager; Zeb was a decade older, but he wasn’t protective, and didn’t care much what Adam did. After the death of his parents, Adam had been permitted to decide for himself who he wanted to live with. All of his siblings had been permitted this, but the younger ones needed help.

When he was contacted by a social worker, Zeb was surprised. Adam had memories of him from many years ago, and wasn’t quite certain if these memories were reliable. Zeb wasn’t the fatherly type. He had a four year old daughter that he never spoke about, but who came over once a month to spend time with him. “I’m not your dad,” Zeb said when Adam moved in with him. “I’m not going to give you rules, and I don’t give a shit what you do.”

It was easy to get away with troublesome things. Adam was beginning tenth grade and had no idea what to expect. He’d been in Nova Scotia for nearly six months and hadn’t yet made a friend, but Zeb said most people weren’t worth befriending anyway. This didn’t make it any less lonely. As a boy who had never had a friend before, Adam wasn’t sure how to initiate relationships. He and Zeb lived alone in a small apartment. It was much quieter than the farm had been, but it felt unfamiliar. Life used to be miserable, but Adam was used to this, and sudden change felt strange. He had his own room for the first time, and he was never bothered here. He would be an outcast at school. He’d seen that teenagers could be mean and loud, and he was a stranger. Still, starting at a new school on the first day was far better than starting in the middle of the year.

Adam had a part-time job. As he was only fifteen, he couldn’t work many hours. Making little money was better than nothing at all. Sometimes, it was intimidating to leave the house. Zeb said the city didn’t have that many people, but it felt like it did. He was only three hours away from home. It was hard to remember sometimes that this was home now.

“Why did you choose me to live with, anyway?”

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Zeb was impersonal. He had controversial opinions, and voiced them loudly. Adam wasn’t much different. He was seven when Zeb left the farm, and missed him briefly. The brothers were similar; this had been the reason Adam requested Zeb as a guardian. It was hard to tell if the man had a problem with this or not.

“I think we’re a lot alike.” Similarly to Zeb, Adam had never worried about offending people. He spoke his opinions freely and openly, and rarely felt anxious. His father had made most people feel uncomfortable. Adam had learned how to be apathetic. “I thought I’d get along the best with you.”

The last time Adam spoke to his father was the day of his death. They’d argued about Adam’ homework, and spent most of the rest of the day ignoring one another. Adam wasn’t stupid, as much as Orion might have said otherwise. A perk of having much older siblings was learning things that were far older than you were.

Adam worked at a popular fast food restaurant. He was one of the youngest and newest employees, which he disliked. Adults spoke to him the same way his father had: as though he was a child, incapable of making decisions on his own. Adam learned years ago that a teen couldn’t stand up for themselves without being accused of disrespecting their elders.

There was a chill in the air. It wasn’t yet winter, but it felt like it was.

On the days he picked Adam up from work, Zeb always parked directly outside the front doors. He felt anxious tonight. His feet scuffed on the pavement, sore from standing. There were few vehicles in the parking lot; Zeb hadn’t yet arrived. Sometimes he got held up by work or traffic, and Adam would sit and wait at the picnic table outside of the restaurant.

He was tired. When he lay his head down on the tabletop, somebody grabbed him by the arm, their hand tightening over his mouth. ”Don’t fight. You can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The touch wasn’t gentle or soft. The hand across his mouth was rough, calloused, dry. Under the faint nighttime lights of the parking lot, Adam made out a hooded figure: taller than him, forcing something into his mouth. He could have fought back. Attempting to escape the figure’s grasp resulted in pressure to the throat, which left him choking for air.

He’d recognize the voice anywhere. As Zeb’s car pulled into the parking lot, Adam was yanked across the sidewalk, held tightly by the throat, forced into the back seat of a tinted van.