“Seven,” she whispers. “I need…”
“How am I supposed to—?” I’m distracted by Silas Jr. stepping out of the shadows, his feet more wobbly than usual.
He squints his eyes and rubs his belly. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good.”
Noah races for the stage, jumps on the platform, sweeps Silas Jr. onto his back so that he lies flat. He jams two fingers into the back of the kid’s throat.
“Come on,” Noah huffs. “Come on. Come on.”
Silas Jr. fights against the intrusion, clawing at Noah’s wrist. Fights it until he can’t fight anymore and regurgitates the red liquid around Noah’s fingers. Noah turns him on his side as he continues to vomit on the platform.
“You need…” Senya says, each breath taking longer than the next. “Take my son to get help.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and falls like the first raindrop of a storm onto her pale skin. “How do you expect me to leave you here?”
“I… said… no questions.”
I reposition her in my lap, hold her tighter. Years of rage swallow me whole as I let myself feel the pain and grief the way we’re meant to feel it. Ibrush away the tears rolling down my cheeks, not wanting the last image she has of me to be one of weakness.
“We have to go,” Noah shouts, rising to his feet with Silas Jr. cradled in his arms. “Now!”
I look into my sister’s wet eyes, swollen and red. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She nods. The only way she has left to tell me it’s okay to go.
I pull my hands out from under her head, my fingers brushing through her beautiful hair one last time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
And as I back away from her, I can’t stop saying those words over and over again. Say them until I’m not saying them to her anymore. Say them until I’m apologizing to myself.
I follow Noah off the platform. It begins as a slow hustle, navigating carefully around the maze of bodies littered around the courtyard. The wind, the tears, and smoke as thick as fog blurs my vision as we race through the compound.
We run past the food hall that crumbles underneath the weight of a raging fire. Run past the one-room school building where a singular gunshot can be heard from inside. Run straight to the parking lot as a car hauls ass into the night.
Noah passes Silas Jr. into my hands as we reach Silas’ car. He opens the rear door and ushers me inside beside the cash-filled duffel bag. Before I caneven close the door, he’s in the driver's seat and speeding away. Behind us, the world I knew burns to the ground. Ahead of us, the moon peeks from behind storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
In the rearview mirror, I meet Noah’s gaze.
It’s the only thing in the world that calms me.
But Silas Jr. goes silent in my lap, his eyes blinking to a close.
AFTER
NOAH
A flurryof hands tear at the worn blinds.
My hands.
Seven’s hands.
Wrestling for control, but I let him win. His fingers tangle over mine, holding my hand in place.
Hair hangs over my face, droplets of sweat landing with a whisper on the folded pillow breath me. Sweat rolls down the length of my bare back, too. Can feel it pooling between on ass crack as Seven pounds away. The worn mattress moans and creaks to the tune of his thrusts, growing harder and deeper by the second. He shifts a hand to my chest, right at the base of my throat. Holds me in place, completely in control.
I once feared losing control, terrified to the point of making the worst possible decision at any given time just to avoid losing it. Now, I hand him the keysanytime he wants to take a drive. Literally. Figuratively.
“Who’s the bottom now, Daddy?”
