Chapter Text
The pavement thudded against Tate’s feet. Each breath felt like his lungs were splintering apart. He was running, running to be free of that place. Previous attempts were met with failure, then punishment. But running wouldn’t cut it, not now. That’s when Tate's eyes spotted the opportunity.
A car. Sleek and black, he didn’t know whose it was. It was practically screaming at him. He had nothing left to lose. Tate climbed into the front of the car and fumbled to close the door. His eyes scanned over all the buttons. ‘Familiar enough,’ he thought. The car rushed forward as his foot met the pedal, faster than he thought. The streetlights blurred as the teen drove past. ‘Fuck. How do I make it slower-’ He suddenly heard sirens.
Tate saw a cop walk out of the car, and panic surged through his mind. He slammed the brakes and rolled down the window. “Kid, you know how fast you were going?” Tate bit his lip, “No Sir- but I r-really have to get out of here-” The cop looked at him. “License and registration please?” ‘License?! I should’ve convinced my dad to let me take those lessons.’ “P-please, Sir-!”
A white car pulled up next to the cop car. “Tate. Get out of the car,” a man’s voice said. ‘Not again…’ Tate opened the door with shaking hands and got out. The adrenaline had faded, and he hadn’t felt this exhausted in a while. His father grabbed his wrist, hard enough to leave a bruise. “Excuse me, Sir. Do you know this kid?” the police officer interrupted. Tate’s father smiled at the officer. “Ah yes- this is my son” Tate tried to struggle against the grip until it tightened even more.
“Then you wouldn’t mind explaining those bruises? On his face, arms and legs?” Tate’s breath caught in his throat. Was this his chance? “Oh those- he’s really clumsy. Gets bruises every day.” ‘Yeah, from y-’ “Kid, what’s your name?” Tate looked up at the police officer. “T-Tate. Tate Everhart.” “Alright…Tate, do you want to go home with this man?” Tate wanted to say no, he really did, but the words wouldn’t come out. It felt like he hadn’t drunk water for days, and he could feel the grip getting tighter.
“I think this is a little much. I told you he’s clumsy-” the police officer interrupted him. “Sir, I need him to answer me, not you.” Tate managed to shake his head. ‘No…please save me.’ The officer gave a small, reassuring smile. “Please, release him, Sir” “What- no! He’s a teenager, you don’t know when he could be lying!” The cop pretended to reach for his pistol. “I won’t refrain from using force.” Tate felt his father’s hand release his arm, an angry red hand mark left behind like a brand.
“Get in the car, kid. I’ll deal with him.” Tate didn’t think twice. He quickly ran towards the cop car and got in the backseat. The teen could make out the faint arguing from outside the car. He closed his eyes, images of torment flashing through his mind. ‘I can’t believe I actually made it out.’