Username and password. I didn’t have a username and password.
Tears of frustration burned my eyes, but I forced them back. The boy didn’t cry.
But he needed help.
I scribbled the string of characters and numbers down on a piece of paper, shut down the laptop, and left the room.
I found Carla in the kitchen. My nanny looked up from her cooking, her smile fading as she saw my face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do. But I knew the boy needed help, right now.
“I need to report something to the police,” I whispered.
Carla wiped her hands, concern creasing her forehead. “The police?” She stared at me as if she’d never seen me before. “We don’t talk to the police,” she said. “Did something happen? Why don’t you tell me first?”
I cocked my head. Did something happen? What if it was just a movie? Though it didn’t look or feel like a movie. I shook my head.
“Can we go to the playground?” The playground was right next to the police station, and sometimes, the cop cars were parked along the street, right next to the swing.
“This is not a good time,” Carla said just as Vince stepped into the kitchen.
“Not a good time for what?” he asked.
“Bella asked me to go to the playground,” Carla said.
Vince squatted down in front of me. “Is it too much?”
I nodded.
Vince stood and turned to Carla. “Take Bella and Mira to the playground. I’m sure nobody will miss them.”
Carla nodded. “Si, signore.” Then she pushed me out of the kitchen.
I kept an eye on the police station from the swing, waiting for the right moment.
Carla was chatting with one of the bodyguards when two police officers came out.
I jumped off the swing and raced to the fence just as they were about to get into their car. I pulled the piece of paper from the pocket of my skirt.
The female officer closest to me stopped and stared at me as I stuck my hand through the fence. “Please help him,” I whispered when she grabbed the paper I was holding.
I immediately raced back to the jungle gym.
Please don’t come here; please don’t ask questions.
The officer was still standing, looking from the paper back to me. I could feel her stare even though I didn’t look up.
“Isabella, Mirabella,” Carla called us.
I skidded down the slide and ran to her.
She looked in the direction of the cops, then took Mira’s and my hand, and together, we walked back home.
I didn’t know if she was alarmed because she saw me handing over the piece of paper or because they were watching us. Even though the officers didn’t stop us from leaving.
That night, I dreamed of the boy with burning eyes. In my dream, he escaped the ring while I remained frozen on that sofa, trapped in stone forever.
