Chapter 9: A Cry for Help

Seeing this comment, my heart instantly sank.

I broke into a cold sweat, my plan unraveling before it even began.

I quickly ran to a nearby payphone and called my teacher.

The phone booth was cold and sticky, the receiver heavy in my hand. I dialed with trembling fingers.

“Ms. Carter, please don’t tell my mom about this. She’s really sick and can’t handle the stress.”

My voice cracked, desperation leaking through every word.

The teacher’s tone was serious: “So you know forging medical records is wrong.”

Her voice was softer than I expected, but there was a weight behind it. I felt like I was balancing on a razor’s edge.

“Ms. Carter...”

My throat tightened. “I’ve been abused by my dad for a long time. My whole body hurts, he won’t give me money or let me see a doctor... My mom’s been driven out of her mind too. I just wanted a few days off to recover.”

The words poured out, my guard dropping for the first time. I didn’t care if she believed me—I just needed help.

After reassuring the teacher, I hurried to school and found her in the office.

The halls smelled like floor wax and old lunch meat. I knocked, stepping inside before she could answer.

In front of the teacher, I lifted my shirt, showing the bruises and scars all over my body.

She gasped, covering her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in the damage.

The teacher froze, tears welling up in her eyes. She stepped away, hands shaking as she dialed the phone. I saw her swallow hard, trying to compose herself before turning back to me.

“Charlie, did your dad do all this?”

Her voice trembled. I nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll call the police. This is too much.”

She reached for the phone, but I lunged forward, grabbing her sleeve.

“Ms. Carter, please don’t call the cops.”

My voice was a whisper, barely holding back tears.

I grabbed her arm, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

I couldn’t stop crying—months of fear and pain bursting out at once.

“Domestic violence isn’t a death sentence. My mom is already confused. I’m afraid that if he gets out, he’ll kill us.”

My voice was shaky but determined. I tried to make her understand—this wasn’t just about me.

The teacher was both distressed and anxious. “But you can’t go on like this.”

She knelt beside me, her hand warm on my shoulder. I wanted to believe she could fix everything, but I knew better.

I looked up, eyes full of tears, begging, “Ms. Carter, can I board at school for a while?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Okay, I’ll approve your boarding.”

The relief was instant—like finally breathing after being underwater too long.

“Thank you, Ms. Carter. But before that, I still need a few days off to find my grandpa and have him help with my and my mom’s illness.”

My words tumbled out, hope and desperation mixing together.

She was relieved. “Your grandpa can help you? Alright, I’ll approve your leave. These injuries... geez, I never thought at home you’d...”

Her words trailed off, shaking her head. She scribbled something on a form, pressing extra hard.

“Charlie, if you ever have trouble, you have to tell me, okay?”

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were fierce. I nodded, holding onto her words like a lifeline.

I nodded hard, lowered my eyes, the way kids do when they’ve learned not to talk back, and stumbled away.

My legs felt like jelly, but for the first time in a long while, I felt a sliver of hope.