Pain erupts from deep within my bones at the sight on the screens—my kid laid lifeless on the floor.
There’s blood all over them—all three of them. My kid. With blood on him.
The man is still shackled to the wall as the woman stares at the video of a pregnant woman projected onto the wall. “STOP!Just fucking stop!” she screams louder, her voice cracking. “You sick fucking cunts! What do you want from us?”
My knees tremble as I stumble forward, catching myself against the desk as the projected image flickers from the pregnant woman to my kid in that room. Alive. He was alive when he walked in. Then the woman, fighting to get a blade from his fist. He turns it on her. And she smashes his head on the dirty concrete floor. The same woman who’s sobbing, screaming like she has any right to peace after hurting my boy.
“Don’t look, little shadow,” Lennox whispers as he gently lays his hand on my back, attempting to stop the projection with his other hand on the keyboard. It keeps flickering over his lifeless body—the pregnant woman, then my kid holding a blade, trying to cut himself. The pregnant woman in that same concrete room where my kid is now lifeless and bloody. The pregnant woman, a baby of Kid’s complexion. More images of a concrete room where he spent his entire life being abused, but he never got to go outside because he’s still in there.Naked, lifeless, bloody.
The female captive crawls on her hands and knees then gently cradles him, slowly rocking him back and forth, fucking touching him when he can’t tell her he wants her to.
I stare at his chest.
Waiting for movement.
Anything to tell me he’ll be okay.
He has to be okay.
She screams with so much anguish, it turns my stomach.
I stumble backwards, knocking Lennox’s hand off me as I refuse to believe their fucking lies. It’s another way they’re tricking me, like the videos of Delilah. It’s not real.
I’m going to go into the room.
And he will fucking be there with a smile on his face.
And my phone will be in his hand.
And we’ll play charades again.
I’ll give him his presents. We’ll go through all of them until he finds his favorite color.
No one is taking my kid away from me.
Rowan isn’t in the hallway as I walk out, holding the wall for support. He wouldn’t be because there’s nothing to see. It’s fake. It has to be fake.
Yeah, it has to be.
Kid’s fine.
Just as I manage to convince myself he’ll be there, Asher’s voice comes out, whispering,“It’s real. You chose Delilah over him.”
“No,” I mumble.
“You did, you left him here so you could see her. It’s her fault.”
“No,” I repeat more forcefully.
I’m numb as I reach my room within this fucking place where the sheets are still rustled from Kid pushing his small body underneath the fleece blanket.
“Kid?” I whisper as I slam the door behind me, searching behind it. “You can stop hiding now. Come on, we’ll play charades.”
No answer.
“Please, can you come out?” I drop to my knees and look under the bed, even though there’s nothing obstructing it as I knock in our secret sequence. “I’ve thought of a good one this time.”
No fucking answer. No sound. Nothing.
