Chapter 3

Ethan

It didn't take me long to figure out how the foster care system worked. No one wanted you, not really. What they wanted was the version of you that didn't cause problems, the one that was easy to handle.

That was never me.

Samantha, though, was the perfect child—sweet, smart, and always with a smile. She could fit in anywhere; I always joked that was her superpower. But I was the opposite of her. I was just the broken kid who cringed every time someone raised their voice, the traumatized kid who screamed in his sleep, crying for Mommy, and no one wanted to deal with that. Samantha was always hopeful that the next home would be the last, but I knew better.

I learned about our first home, The Howards, who seemed like they cared about us. But, it was my sister they really cared for. They doted on her every day. She would get Samantha good clothes, toys, and whatever Samantha wanted she got. As for me, I was an afterthought, just there.

I knew they had no idea how to handle me, I was old enough to understand what happened, but I was too young to actually process it. The only good thing the Howards did for me was send me to therapy; Dr. Hansley would always try to get me to talk about what happened. I never talked much during those sessions; I could never talk about what happened without reliving that nightmare.

No matter how many sessions I had, it never worked. Most of the time, I would spend the session staring at the walls, only giving half-hearted responses. Dr. Hansley couldn't help me; no one could.

Dr. Hansley diagnosed me with PTSD, and I would have nightmares about that night constantly. They felt so real; it would feel like I was back there, covered in my mother's blood. I would wake up screaming many nights; I could tell the Howards were tired, especially Mr. Howard.

One night, when I couldn't sleep, I went to get a snack from the kitchen when I heard Mr. Howard's voice. "We should have never let them in, Susan." his voice was calm, but I could hear the anger in his voice. "I can't take Ethan screaming all hours of the night; we can't handle him."

"Mark" Mrs. Howard softly said to her husband, "He just needs time. You know what he went through. Just give him some time."

"Time," Mr. Howard began, his voice raised. Susan, that boy is a ticking time bomb; it's just a matter of time before he hurts someone."

"But what about little Samantha?" Mrs Howard questioned. She's just a little girl; she needs a nice home. We can give her that."

"What if Ethan ends up hurting her," Mr Howard pointed out. "I'm open to keeping her, but if something doesn't change, the boy has to leave."

Those bastards wanted to separate us; they wanted to take away the only family I had left. Samantha was the only one I had left, my only family; she was the only person who could understand me. I would never allow anyone to take my sister. I had to change and make them think I was the version of me they wanted.

That's when I made the decision to put on a mask and make everyone think I was this happy kid who was over the death of his parents. Everything I felt, all the anger, all the sadness, and anything I felt, I buried it; I never let it out.

For weeks, I did my best; I stayed quiet and kept to myself. I did everything I could to avoid conflict. I even told Dr. Hansley everything she wanted to hear; I told her how my dad scared the hell out of me. I told her about every beating, every time I saw my mother's face in my nightmares. The Howards finally started liking me; I was the son they had always wanted. All it took was pushing down all my emotions.

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Sadly, it didn't last long; it never does. I still had nightmares, but those never went away; I tried to not sleep to not have nightmares. That just made it harder for me to keep up the act. Mr. Howard was right; I was a ticking time bomb; anyway, I could go off, and no one would be the same.

That day wasn't far off. We were having dinner one day. It was the four of us, the Howards, my sister, and me, eating, and I was off in my memories. I never heard Mr. Howard asking me to pass the salt.

"GODDAMMIT ETHAN PASS THE SALT!" Mr Howard screamed.

That was all it took, and just like that, I was back in my old home, with my dad standing over me, belt in hand. "You little shit, you're just like your mother, worthless" It felt like he was right there, it was so real.

I couldn't breathe; fear was all I could feel. I could feel my father's rough, cruel hands on me. I had to fight him off, so I swung my fist at him; I was crying as I landed punch after punch. "Don't ever fucking touch me, bastard," I screamed over and over again.

" Ethan, stop it," I heard my sister scream. Suddenly, I was back in the Howards' dining room. I looked down and saw that the person I was attacking was Mr. Howard.

The man was a mess, his nose bloody and his shirt stained with his blood. He was talking about this; he called me a time bomb, and I exploded. My sister was in tears, and Mrs. Howard, trying to calm her down, also in tears, looking at me like I was a monster.

"I want both of them out, Susan!" Mr. Howard yelled to his wife. "Both of you pack your bags. I never want to have one of you little bastards in my home.

Samantha was in tears when the social worker picked us up. I wanted to apologize to make sure she knew everything would be OK. But I couldn't; I knew there was nothing I could say. As we left the Howards' home, I vowed to never let myself lose control. I would never let my past control me. I would learn to smile and say the right things when needed. I would do whatever it took to keep Samantha safe.

That's how I was able to handle Ryan.

I was 25 when I first met Ryan, working part-time at a catering company. It didn't pay much, but it paid the bills. It was one of those jobs where you dressed up and served people with so much money they couldn't help but show off. This particular party was for the Adams family, Helen and Michael Adams who were having a celebration for their son Ryan Adams. Ryan had just passed the Bar Exam, so they had to throw a huge party to celebrate.

I spent half the night serving drinks to New York's super elite, weaving through the crowd of people, making sure every one had a drink in their hands. That's when I met Ryan. Ryan stood a good foot taller than me, and he wore a suit that probably cost more than my rent.

He looked at me with those cold blue eyes, gazing at me like he had found some shiny new toy. His colon filled my nostrils with its strong scent, almost intoxicating.

"You there another drink," he ordered, I did my job and gave him one of the drinks I was carrying. He snatched it from my hand and drank the whole thing in a single gulp while looking deep into my eyes.

"What's your name,” Ryan asked, getting too close for comfort.

"Um, Ethan Sir,” I answered nervously. I had to play nice, put on that face, and I really needed that job.

“Well, Ethan,” Ryan grabbed my free hand, pulling me forward just enough to get chest-to-chest. I want you to stay by my side for the rest of the night. It is my special day after all,” he said with complete arrogance.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I have to attend to the other guest.” I apologized and tried to break free from his grip, to remove a veil. “My manager would kill me if I just stayed with you.” I hoped that would get him to back off.

Ryan looked as if that was the first time someone had told him no; it probably was. I saw his eyes scan the room; I didn’t know what he was looking for. He let me go and walked towards the bar, where my manager was. I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“I talked it over with your manager,” the smirk was somehow even bigger than ever. “He agreed to let you work for me tonight.”

I couldn’t believe it. How could that asshole just pawn me off like some toy? I left Ryan to go talk to my manager. He just couldn’t be that cruel.

“Mr. Jacobs,” I tried my best to remain calm. Don’t you need me helping with the other guest?” Ryan was right behind me, his hand on his shoulders.

“Sorry, Ethan" . Mr. Jacobs had the nerve to look embarrassed. “Mr. Adams requested your personal services for the night. Make sure he’s happy. He is the guest of honor.”

“Tell you what” Ryan turned me around, and that damn overconfident smirk was still there. “If you serve me, do whatever I tell you for the night, I'll tip you,” he paused as if to think about how to get to my weak point. “Ten Grand will all be yours if you’re a good boy.”

Ten grand would cover my rent for a year, and I'd be a fool to turn it down. But Ryan wasn’t finished with his offer. He took a few hundred dollar bills and stuffed them in the waistband of my pants.

“Consider this an advance,” he pulled me closer so he could whisper in my ear. What do you say? A night of you doing whatever I say, and you get more money than you ever get working tonight?”

I thought that a few hours of putting up with this jackass would be worth it. I could just follow him around, do whatever he wanted, and walk out of this place for $10,000 richer. So that’s what I did. I served him drinks and played fetch whenever he wanted one of the Hors d’oeuvres; I got it for him. Ryan would make comments that would make anyone uncomfortable. He even dropped a glass and made me get down and clean it.

“You look good down there, Ethan,” he mocked me. You’ll spend much time on your knees if you're lucky.”

I should have left; it would have been the smart thing to do, but the promise of money was too great. My pride outweighed my logic. I took every vulgar comment, every unwanted touch. I did what I had to for the money. After everything I went through in my childhood, dealing with an arrogant jerk for a few hours was not the best thing.

As the party was winding down, guests were leaving, and my shift was over. I gathered my things and prepared to leave, hoping to get over this awful night. That was until Ryan appeared out. He was obviously drunk, and he grabbed me by my tie,wrapping it around his fist.

“Where do you think you’re going” Ryan drunkenly asked.

“My shift is over,” I said, trying to sound much more confident than I actually was. I spent the night serving and caring for you, Mr. Adams, so I'll be taking my money and making my leave.”

Ryan laughed. “You don’t think I'd spend $10,000 on you just serving me a few drinks.” he tightened his grip on my tie to the point I had slight trouble breathing. “I told you the whole night, and by the looks, it's only midnight. We still have a few hours till morning.” he gave me that damn smirk that he's been giving me all night.

This was my last chance; I could just walk away. I should have been smart, but my need for the money made me do something that changed my life forever.

“I guess you were right; I'll be on my knees a lot tonight.” I joked lamely.

Ryan just grinned, and we made our way to one of his parent's guest rooms.