Alone.

A few more months had passed. We were dating now for nine months. The month I most dreaded.

“I think…I should meet your family.” Dylan said one Saturday afternoon.

I was at his house, like I usually was every weekend and every other week day. We were on the couch. My legs were strewn over his as I was reading a book, and he was watching TV.

I looked up to meet his light eyes. He was serious.

I didn’t want to do this. This moment was what I was afraid of. I didn’t want it to come but here it was. How could I tell him now?

I didn’t know what to say so I said, “really?”

And he nodded.

“I’ve never been to your house. Id like to see it…and your bedroom.” He smiled like this part of our relationship was the easiest thing to do. A mental laugh. Maybe for him.

How? Why?

Telling him the truth; my secret, would be difficult for me, especially how long we have known each other. So I took the easy way out. Whatever escape that was.

“I don’t know Dylan.” I said to him.

“Oh come on! Please?”

I didn’t want to tell him the truth. I didn’t want to lie to him either. So I stayed silent. For as long as I could. Pretending to think about it, even though I already had my answer.

“What harm could it do?” Dylan said.

What harm? Everything we have together. Our relationship. Our friendship. Everything could be ruined.

Because I knew that withholding the truth was as bad as a lie. Dylan would look at me differently if he realized this.

It was time that you knew. My regret, my secret, my pain. It was time.

How could Dylan come visit my family and my house if there wasn’t a family to see and a house, a home that’s no longer there?

That’s right.

I am homeless. I am alone.

I ran away from that foster family. They lied to me. They never loved me. Same went to my biological family. They never cared. I was nobody. Nothing!

That’s why nobody found out. The school, students, friends. That’s why.

And now Dylan wanted to know, wanted to see a family that doesn’t exist, my own room that I never had. How could I tell him?

Did I trust him enough to let him know what could get my in big trouble. What could probably put me back at that family again or another foster family, move away, and never see Dylan again? Could I risk that? I just wish I knew what he would do.

At this point, I had no clear idea of where logic ended and emotion began.