“So you’re taking advantage of him,” Patricia said.
“At least you’re honest.”
“You don’t need to know,” Mark replied.
“Just be grateful.”
I heard nothing after that.
Ethan was not considered a child.
He was a computer guy.
I quietly stepped out of the bathroom, my whole body shaking.
In the living room, Ethan watched a cartoon and laughed, unaware that those who called themselves his family were bargaining his value as a cost.
I crossed the room, knelt down next to him, and whispered, “We have to go.”
“Did I really do something wrong?” he asked, panic on his face.
“No,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
“You did everything right.”
I grabbed his coat, his backpack, and the handles of his wheelchair.
When Márk came out of the kitchen, I was already standing in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I looked at him, really looked at him, and realized that I didn’t know this man at all.
“Far away,” I said.
And I left – never to return.
The journey home seemed endless.
Ethan sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window.
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