Chapter 8

**Brad's POV**
When I finally decided to grace the morning with my presence it was already 10AM. I showered and trudged downstairs. I had a sleepless night and still felt the reminisce of it. I found Angela in the kitchen. She was washing dishes.

“Morning,” I muttered and she responded lightly, her back to me. I took homage on a chair and slouched comfortably and asked the only question to occupy my mind.

“Where is the little brat?”

I saw her still, her breathing labored, she slowly turned and stared at me. Her brows furrowed and she crossed her arms across her chest.

Someone was grumpy this morning.

“Ask me that question again, and this time I suggest you rephrase.” She responded hotly.

I raised my hands defensively and repeated the question, “Where is Harvey?”

She sighed. “Mrs. Smith came to pick him up a while ago.” She eyed me.

“I see,” I responded and I saw her turn her back on me once more and continued with the dishes.

I contemplated for a second. It was obvious this boy meant something to her so if I went about this the wrong way I would know nothing.

I rose from the table and walked over to her. I stood abreast her, my hand coming to rest on her hands, stopping their movement.

She stared up at me now. The proximity of us new and somehow exhilarating. She was even more beautiful up close. I felt her plus spike under my fingers and I knew she was nervous, but what for?

Me? Our proximity?

“We need to talk.” My voice coming out as a whisper and I knew she could feel the heat of my breath. We were that close.

She blinked a couple of times, regaining her composure she replied, her eyebrows raising in question. ”About what?”

“You have not been completely honest with me,” I remarked, adoring the way her eyebrow uplifted in defiance.

“Should you be talking about honesty?” She asked and I couldn’t help but stare at her lips. They were so perfect.

I bet they were soft too.

I shook the thought from my head. I sighed and studied her. Did she always feel the need to argue with me?

“Why did you tell me that Mrs. Smith is Harvey’s mother when she obviously isn’t it?”

All the contempt slowly drained from her eyes and they grew into two large golden orbs. It reminded me of sunlight.

“How-“

“I overheard Harvey last night, well this morning speaking about the orphanage.” I clarified.

She sighed and I felt the heat of her breath warming my neck. I felt the most intimate and sensitive part of myself tighten.

“Well, then I suppose you don’t need to know anything else.” She retorted but I saw the sadness in her eyes.

“Actually I do need to know more. Why did you lie?” I asked.

“I didn’t. Mrs. Smith called him her son and you took it literally.” She replied to me her eyes lowering.

I nodded, my eyes focusing on her, her eyes lowered and I wondered if she would be this shy in bed.

I mentally cursed myself and the direction my thoughts traveled.

“So he is an orphan?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. She nodded in approval and I had to ask, “What did he mean when he said he had seen things other kids hadn’t?”

Her eyes shot to mine and she pulled her hand out from under mine and walked over to the table where she sat. I grew annoyed at the loss of contact and slowly walked over to her, mimicking her action, I sat down.

“Well?” I prompted.

“Harvey spent ten years with his parents.” She began and I stayed quiet. “His mother was a wonderful woman, from what I heard she was very vibrant in her younger years. She married right out of college to Harvey’s father. For a while things were...they were happy. Harvey was born and a little after that, things went...bad.” Her voice dropped at the last word. His father started drinking and pretty soon he began beating Harvey’s mother. Pretty brutal. Years and years passed and it continued. He even raped her on several occasions and to hurt her he’d even abuse Harvey, with cigarettes, blades.” She sighed.

“He lived in this environment for ten years. He was witness to his mother’s beating and even her rapes. Even saw her gang-raped by a group of men her husband brought home. All this child knows is pain.”

“When they found him, he was half beaten to death, he was almost wasted away, a few more days and he wouldn’t have made it.”

She stopped and I felt my blood chill. “What about his parents?” I struggled to contain my anger.

“His father was found dead in the backyard. He’s overdosed and they found Harvey’s mother shackled to a bed, her entire body battered and bruised.”

“She’s alive?” I asked.

I saw her consider for a moment. “In a way.”

“What do you mean?” I grew confused.

“She was traumatized severely and she just didn’t allow any human contact. They had to sedate her to remove her from the house. She doesn’t want anything to do with Harvey, she’s scared of him.”

“Scared of him?” I repeated incredulously. Here this kid needed his mother and she forsook him! No wonder this kid didn’t trust anyone. If he couldn’t trust the people who brought him in the world how could he trust others?

“Yes, she’s been held in a mental institution for the past four years.” She looked at me and I could tell she was holding her emotions in. But the one thing I couldn’t understand was why?

Why was she interested in Harvey? I knew she felt deeply for him. Hell who wouldn’t once they knew his story? Even without knowing there was something about the kid that screamed damaged. But of all the kids, the more innocent why did she feel so much for him?

The people I knew wouldn’t give a damn! They would claim it wasn’t their problem and push it aside. It would just be too much work to help someone with so much baggage.

But he knew the kid's mind, hell, he should after everything he went through.