I retake my seat in his living room watching whatever game is on TV. The sound is down too low to hear the announcers, and I don't’ mind. Light slants through the blinds in the living room windows onto the same carpet that’s always been here. No sense in replacing carpet when you can just have it cleaned—or rent the machine from the hardware store and clean it yourself. There’s not much pile left after all these years. The carpet is worn pretty thin.

Still better than concrete.

I stretch on the ratty sofa and try not to think of so-called classrooms with concrete floors. The floors were what reminded me for so long after I came home. If I stretch enough, I can work the soreness out of my muscles and bring my mind back to Haley. I try not to think of her when the thoughts of back then are so raw. I try… but recently, I’ve been failing.

Easy to get lost thinking about her, especially when I think this game might be a rerun. I sort of remember what the score might be, but I don’t really care. My dad isn’t paying much attention either. It’s just better to have something on then sit together with nowhere to look.

It’s comfortable, I guess. House still smells the same as it always did—a mix of old wood and carpets cleaned too many times and wallpaper glue. Not much has changed around here. Same pictures on the walls. Same disintegrating coasters on the side tables. There’s a round rug in front of the TV that used to be a mix of bright colors, but it’s faded in the sun. That’s the only sign that time has passed.

I’m the only other thing that’s different. Although when I sit here, I can almost remember how I used to feel before. If I try hard enough, I can almost pretend none of it ever happened and I’m still the same.

Like none of it ever happened. But then I never would have met her.

That never works for long. My mind doesn’t have to wander far to drag me back to the long nights and the screaming and crying and begging.

The punishments. There were always so many punishments. That shit never ended. None of us could ever do anything right.

It was designed that way. Tough love is what he called it when my father let them take me. I glance back at him and take a sip. He didn’t know.