Page 24 of Property of Booker

“Goodnight, Booker,” I whisper.

Booker pulls the door shut and I listen for the latch to click home. I walk over to lock it and twist the deadbolt. For the first time in my life, the weight of the world feels lighter. I don’t feel like I need to sleep with one eye open anymore. I turn to see Kolter sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks small in this room.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and looks up at me. “Are we safe, Mom?” he asks, his voice barely a murmur.

I sit next to him and wrap my arm around his waist. I pull him close and feel the warmth of him against my side. “We are,” I tell him, kissing the top of his hair. “No one is going to hurt us here.”

He leans his head on my shoulder and lets out a long, shuddering breath. “I was so scared.”

“I know,” I whisper, holding him tighter, unwilling to let him go. “But that’s over. We have a place to sleep and a roof over our heads.”

He looks up at me with those wide eyes. “You won't leave me again?”

My heart breaks, but I keep my tone steady so he doesn’t hear how sad I am in my words. “Never. I’m not going anywhere. We’re a team now.”

He nods slowly, his eyelids getting heavy as the adrenaline finally fades. “Okay,” he murmurs.

Even though we are completely exhausted, I know we both need to wash the day off before crawling between the clean sheets. Standing up, I pull my boy with me. “Can you stay awake a little longer for me?” I ask him. “We need a shower before we go to bed.” It hasn't fully hit me yet that we are actually safe, but I hope it does soon so I can start leading the life with my boy that I've dreamed of for years. He nods as I walk over toward the door, giving the lock one last turn just to be sure it doesn't budge. I turn back and see Kolter leaning against the edge of the mattress. He rubs his eyes, his movements sluggish and heavy.

“Are we really staying here?” he asks, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

I walk over and nudge the door in the corner open. It leads to a small, private bathroom. I let out a sigh of relief when I see the shower stall. “We are. It’s ours, at least for tonight. And look, we even have a place to wash up.”

He slides off the bed, his bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He stops at the bathroom threshold, hesitant to step inside. “Is it okay if I don’t want to be by myself?” he asks, gripping the hem of his shirt with white knuckles.

I reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, feeling the heat coming off his skin. “You’re not going to be by yourself. Not for a single second. If you want me to sit in there while you shower, I’ll park myself right on the tile floor. Or we can leave the door cracked so you can hear me the whole time.”

He leans against my hip, his small hands fisting into my jeans. “Can you stay?”

“I’m not leaving your sight,” I promise. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He nods again, and for the first time, I see the tension in his jaw start to fade. The reality that we’re safe is finally settling into my bones. I know it’s going to take time for us to heal, but looking at him, I know we’ve got all the time in the world.

Stepping fully into the bathroom, a smile touches my lips at the sight of two pairs of pajamas laid out on the counter, and I silently thank my lucky stars for these incredible people. I inspect the sizes, stunned to find they got mine perfectly right. But then a wave of defeat washes over me—I realize I have no idea what size my own son wears. He’s swimming in a pair of worn-out sweats that are clearly a few sizes too large. It breaks my heart that his own father kept him looking so ragged.

It’s painfully obvious from Kolter’s gaunt appearance that he wasn’t fed properly either. What reason could there possibly be for keeping him away from me if his father had no intention of actually raising him right? If I’d been allowed to be the one to parent Kolter, I would’ve willingly done whatever was demanded of me. Do I despise admitting that to myself? Naturally, I do, but the truth remains that I would have sacrificed anything just to be his mother. Even at the detriment of others. I’m sure that makes me a shitty person, but I have no apologies to give. If there was only a choice between him and people I didn’t know, he’d win every single time.

Deciding to let those thoughts go, I start the water, but I can barely feel the temperature through the numbness spreading in my chest. When his worn sweats pool around his ankles, I stop breathing. His legs are a roadmap of cruelty, mottled with deep purple and sickly yellow bruises. Some look old, fading into a muddy brown, while others are angry, fresh, and raw.

I press a hand to my mouth, swallowing a sob before it can escape. I don’t want him to see me break down. I force my expression into something soft, something calm, even though my blood is boiling with a rage so hot it feels like it’s burning me from the inside out.

“Kolter,” I whisper, the name catching on a tremor in my throat. I crouch down, careful not to touch him too hard. “Who did this to you?”

He looks down at his legs as if he’s only just noticing them. He shrugs, a tiny, dismissive movement that shatters what’s left of my heart. “It’s just from training,” he says, his voice detached. “Dad… I mean, Jerome said I have to be tough. He said if I heal fast, I don’t get hit as much.”

The air in the bathroom feels like it’s getting sucked out of the room. I grab a washcloth, wetting it with water that’s too hot, and wring it out with fingers that won’t stop shaking. “That’s not training, baby,” I say, my voice steady only because I’m forcing it to be. “That’s hurting. And no one should ever do that to you.”

He leans his shoulder against the tiled wall, looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes that have seen way too much. “But I'm a boy now. He said boys don't cry when they get hurt because they won’t become men if they do.”

I stand up and pull him into me, burying my face in the crook of his neck so he can't see the tears I finally let slip. “You’re just a child,” I say to him, rocking us back and forth. “And you never have to be tough for anyone again. Not for him, not for anyone. I’m here now. I’m the one who protects you.”

He wraps his thin arms around my waist, clinging to me like I’m a lifeline. “You promise?”

I pull back, cupping his face in my hands. I look him dead in the eye, wanting him to see the promise written there, etched into my skin. “I swear it. From now on, all you have to do is be happy. We’re going to fix this. All of it.”

He nods, and for the first time, he doesn't look like a soldier following orders. He looks like my son. I lift him into the shower, the warm spray finally beginning to rinse away the filth of his captivity. I’ll scrub away the dirt, but I know the scars underneath will take a hell of a lot longer to fade.

“You're all clean,” I say, patting his shoulder. He stands by the sink, fidgeting with the hem of his new shirt. I smile to reassure him. “I need to wash up now, but you're a big boy, and that means I need a little privacy.” He goes rigid. I see the panic flare in his eyes.