Chapter 20
Thereweremomentsinlife that made you do a double take and wonder, “What the fudge?” This was definitely one of them. I couldn’t even say how everything went so wrong. One moment, we were getting ready for bed—Boyan, Lou, and I observing different constellations with the telescope we “found in the streets”, courtesy of our mafia man bankroller—and the next, Charlie barged into the room, reeking of liquor but stable on two feet. I’d always suspected there was something wrong with him, something sick and demented. I just didn’t know how depraved he really was until he went after Lou.
It wasn’t clear if she was his chosen target or if it was because she’d been closest to the door, but he stalked across the room, seized her arm, and hauled her close. His hands roamed over her face, then lower. When she flailed in his grip, crying and scratching at his face, he slapped her hard enough that she collapsed. The nab and grab happened so fast that by the time I rammed into him and swung the desk lamp at his head, she was already on the ground.
He went flying, crashing against the railing of the bunk beds. I thought he’d stay down for a bit, long enough to help Lou back up, but I barely got to Lou before his weight slammed on topof me. He climbed over me, forcing my hands above my head, spitting nonsense about how much money he was going to make, how much he was going to enjoy this.
“Get off her!”
Boyan slapped him with a notebook. Lou swung her backpack at him. I kneed him in the balls and slipped out from under him. Grabbing Lou and Boyan by the arms, I dragged them away with me. We ran out of the bedroom and down the hall. With footsteps thumping up the stairs, we veered toward Micah’s room. His window overlooked the front door awning. From there, we could climb down and make a run for it.
I tried his doorknob. Locked. The three of us knocked frantically on his door, pounding on it, the kids on either side of me. We yelled and wailed his name as Charlie called ours from down the hall. Still, Micah didn’t answer.
When Charlie crawled out of our bedroom and scrambled back to his feet, we gave up. I pushed the kids toward the hallway bathroom and dragged the solid wood console table inside with us. Frames, vases, and ornaments tumbled over, cracking and splintering on the ground. Marlene screamed and cursed from the stairway. I didn’t stop moving until we were safely inside.
Once inside the bathroom, I slammed the door shut, locked it, and shoved the console in front of it. Boyan gripped my thighs, and Lou grabbed my waist. I held onto them both, my back pressed against the wall, the toilet and built-in bathtub casing us in, all of us shaking. A chill seeped up from the cold tiles. The scent of lemon cleaner clung to everything.
When the door handle turned up and down, I held my breath. When the palm hammering began, the first tear streamed down my face, my sleeves already soaked through from Boyan’s and Lou’s. The door rattled when he kicked. The kids startled with each bang. My whole body clenched with indecision. It was all I could do not to fall into a panic myself. Then came the insults.How worthless we were. That he was owed this from us. That he deserved one bright moment from us before they took us. He wasn’t making any sense. I tried yelling for him to leave us alone, but everything I said went ignored.
I heard Micah’s voice. He spoke with Charlie, but not in our defense.
“Where do you need me?”
“Go to the van. Make sure everything is ready. And make sure they have my fucking money.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My whole body was jerking from shock. Micah had ignored us on purpose. They’d planned this, whatever this was.
The bathroom had one small window, big enough for Boyan and Lou to fit through, but not me. The problem, though, was that it was a straight drop onto the paved driveway that led to the basement. They wouldn’t make the fall without at least a few broken bones.
There was no way out.
No way out except through Charlie.
The console skidded forward when a crack cut through the door from his constant pounding. I kicked my feet up against the furniture and jammed it back in place, keeping pressure there. The door wasn’t going to last, especially not when Marlene’s voice joined Charlie’s and the strikes to the door doubled. Lou rocked herself, murmuring something about her mama on repeat, while Boyan clutched my body, strangling me by my shirt collar.
My phone was in my underwear. I tugged it out with shaky fingers and dialed Ricco. It went to voicemail. I tried again. Same thing. So I did the thing I never thought I’d do. I called the one person who shattered my trust before we even knew each other, yet somehow, he was the only person I had any faith in at all.
It took everything I had to beg him for help. And why would he care? We both knew the adoption was a farce attached to some kind of revenge for his car. I would’ve begged more. I would’ve sworn to do whatever he wanted for the rest of my life if he saved Boyan and Lou because I couldn’t lose more siblings—I couldn’t be alone anymore—but the tip of an axe blade pierced through the door.
The kids screamed. I screamed and flinched hard. I couldn’t help it. The phone flew out of my hand, through the air, and crashed.
Boyan hid in the cupboards under the sink, one door panel open in case I needed to quickly tug him out. Charlie’s mini hatchet plunged in and out of the door, widening the small hole, cracks extending in every direction. Splinters and debris landed on us, wood dust in the air and my mouth. When Charlie tired, Marlene took over, calling him names for being useless, then sweetening her voice to coax us out. When that didn’t work, she hurled curses and insults. All the while, I pressed that console harder into the door, my legs trembling with the effort, as Lou and Boyan’s hands clenched tight around mine.
I dared not move to reach the phone and try calling Ricco or Renzo again. It was all I could do but keep the tension in my cramping, quaking legs for minutes, hours…I lost track, watching the door fall to ruin, piece by piece, as slivers of Charlie’s and Marlene’s faces grew larger and larger.
Suddenly, a new bang sounded near the door. A sound that pulled Charlie and Marlene’s attention long enough for the whacks of the hatchet to stop. They were arguing with someone who was getting closer. So close, I recognized the deep baritone of his voice.
“We’re in here,” I yelled.
“Wenzo,” Boyan cried, crawling out of his cabinet into my lap.
Renzo was just down the hall. He’d come after all.
Marlene shrieked over and over, “Get out of my house. Get out!”
With a heavy whack and thud, she went quiet. Then it was Charlie’s turn, but he didn’t yell. Charlie never really did. Instead, he bumbled pleas of mercy: that it wasn’t his idea, that he just wanted the money. Whatever that meant, it wasn’t important, not when every one of my muscles cramped and my raspy breaths were so heavy, my head was spinning. Not when Lou squeezed her eyes tight and slapped her hands over her ears. And not when Boyan was practically convulsing on top of me.
Charlie squeaked further down the hallway, followed by a loud clunk and a weighty thud. Then all was quiet. Too quiet.
