We got out of his car without another word and headed toward the Dolan’s front door. When he knocked on their door, we were greeted with two people who can pass off as the couple from the painting, American Gothic.
“Oh honey, isn’t he just adorable!” Mrs. Dolan gushed and her equally creepy husband just kept smiling and nodding. Where the hell am I?
“Come on in slugger.” Dear god. Mr. Dolan waved me in and Mr. Brennan retreated back to his car without even a good bye. The guy never even cracked a smile in all the years I know him, but I at least expected a good bye from him.
When I walked into their house it looked outdated, but at least clean. The floral couches were wrapped in clear plastic and the wall paper looked like it was still the same from when the house was first built. There wasn’t even a television insight, but only an old fashion radio. It felt like I stepped back in time to the fifties. They showed me the rest of the house while listing off all the rules I must follow to be able to stay. Some of the rules were completely ridiculous like bed at eight. What am I seven? Mr. Dolan went as far as to ban me from masturbating because that is giving into Satan. What a load of shit.
After the tour was over, they introduced me to the shining twins, John and Peter. They acted like they were grown men instead of ten year old boys. They had their hair slicked back, dress shirt and slacks with suspenders, and had zero toys in their room. Something was feeling off and I pray I wasn’t right.
Through out the week they had me on a strict routine. Wake up at six in the morning for morning prayer, seven have breakfast, bible study until lunch at noon, study the scriptures until dinner time at five sharp, and gospel music until bed time at eight. I was living in my own hell, but I tried to remind myself it was better than living in a all boys home across the state.
After days of this routine, I was ready to kill myself. I needed a normal night and decided on Saturday I needed to sneak out before I actually decide killing myself was the better alternative. I couldn’t take another day of having their religion shoved down my throat. I never really believed in God because if there was such a God, why was I born to a mother who never wanted me and the rest of the families I’ve been placed with got ride of me the first chance they could. Even Madison eventually grew tired of me and honestly that hurt the most.
It was Saturday at ten at night and everyone was asleep including the creepy twins. Luckily my room was right next to a tree. I opened the window quietly and was able to jump into the tree with barely a sound. I shimmied down the tree and was able to make a run out onto the dirt road. I was about a thirty minute run from town, but it was worth it.
The run wasn’t bad since I was able to get my frustration out and try my best to clear my head of Madison. Honestly, I might need to take up running since it beats the hell out of staying inside thinking about everything. For once I was able to turn off all the noise going on inside my head.
When I got into town, I went straight for the nearest tattoo shop. I had a fake ID that I got from a kid at baseball camp and I knew exactly what I wanted. “Can I help you?” The brunette at the counter asked.
“Yes, I was hoping you can squeeze me in. I want to get this tattoo on my side.” I pushed over the drawing I sketched secretly at night.
“Ok let me go talk to the owner to see if he has time.” She walked back and in a few minutes came out and said, “You’re in luck. Our owner, Ben, has a spot open tonight. When he finishes with his client, he’ll come out and give you a quote. Fill out these while you wait and I’ll need your ID.” Easy enough, but hopefully it wouldn’t be more than three hundred dollars. I stole it from the Montgomery’s right before I had to leave. In my opinion, if I was going to get thrown out for being a thief than I figured I better steal something so there is at least a reason. It was bad thinking, but at this point I didn’t give a shit.
“Yo, did you really sketch this?” A guy in his thirties, covered in tattoos from head to feet, came out holding my sketch who I’m assuming is Ben.
“Uh yeah. I’m sorry I drew most of it in the dark over the week. If you want to touch it up that’s fine with me.” I was always shy showing my art work. The only person I ever showed it to was Madison.
“No man, this tree looks so realistic! Are you an artist?”
“I sketch on my free time.”
“Well next time you’re around, I would love to take a look at your sketch book. I need an artist with some creative ideas and by the look of your drawing, I feel like you maybe have what I’m looking for.” I never thought anyone would be interested in my drawings let alone a tattoo artist. I nodded my head eagerly and told him I would come back next Saturday around this time with my book.
“Great! I’m the owner, Ben, and I will work out a deal
