She steps inside, a tray in her hands.
Food.
Her eyes scan the room quickly before landing on Elijah. She freezes, staring at him like she’s seen a ghost. Her face tightens for a second—shock?
She doesn’t say a word, just moves toward the small table in the corner, her steps slow, deliberate. She sets the tray down carefully, but I can see it. The way her hands tremble. She knows something. I can feel it in the air.
Her eyes flick back to Elijah again. He’s stirring now, probably from the smell of food. Kayla’s face softens, but there’s sadness there, too, something that pulls at her features. She glances at me, then back at him. Her lips part like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she picks up a plate, bringing it toward us.
“Eat,” she says quietly, holding it out to me. Her voice is gentle, but there’s something heavy in it. Like she’s carrying a weight I can’t see.
I don’t take the plate. I stare at her.Now’s my chance.If anyone’s going to help me, it’sher.
“You have to help us,” I say, voice low but urgent. Elijah sits up now, rubbing his eyes. He looks at the food, then up at Kayla, but doesn’t say anything.
My heart clenches.
He’s hungry. I can see it in the way his gaze lingers on the plate, cautious but hopeful, like he’s afraid to reach for something he might not be allowed to have. It’s the kind of look no child should have.
Not mine. Not my boy.
I take a small, hesitant step toward Kayla, my eyes searching hers for any hint of sympathy.
Right now, I need to try to get out… even if I need to beg.
Kayla’s eyes meet mine for a split second. There’s a flicker of something—guilt, maybe—but then she looks away. She shakesher head, lips pressed into a thin line, before setting the plate on the table.
“Nopuedo,” she whispers, shaking her head.
“Sí, por favor,” I blurt out.Please.I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out like I can pull her back to reason, back to helping us.
Just fucking help me.
But Kayla backpedals, her movements quick, almost panicked. Her face tightens with something unreadable as she turns toward the door. She doesn’t look back. The door clicks shut before I can take another step.
I stand there, staring at the door, feeling the cold grip of reality closing in. The lock clicks from the outside. Of course.My chance slips away just as fast as it came.
Fucking useless.
“Mommy?” Elijah’s small voice snaps me out of the anger building in my chest. I turn to see him staring at the plate of food, his lips pressed together in that way he does when he’s too afraid to ask for something.
“I’m hungry.” He looks up at me, eyes wide, a nervous wrinkle on his forehead as he glances at the plate, and it breaks something inside me.
Elijah finishes the last of his breakfast, crumbs on his fingers as he licks them clean.
He sits cross-legged on the bed, eyes wide, waiting for whatever comes next.
He doesn’t get it yet. Not fully.
I put the empty plates back on the tray, stacking them slowly, trying to buy time. How do I explain this without scaring the hell out of him?
“Elijah…” I start, my voice low as I kneel in front of him, wiping a crumb from his cheek. He looks at me with those big, trusting eyes, and my stomach tightens.
I hate this.
“These people,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm. “They’re dangerous. We’re in a bad place, but you listen to me, okay?” I grip his hands tight, maybe a little too tight, but I can’t help it. “No matter what, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Do you understand?”
Elijah nods, his little hand squeezing mine back, trying to match my strength.
