Page 72 of The Thug And His Doll

“It was just a dream, Toby. I’m fine.”

Toby shakes his head, his tiny hands cupping my face. “No, Mama. He hurt you. You were screaming.”

“Toby–”I croak, my voice catching as tears pool in my eyes. I turn my head away, unable to answer him.

“Here, let me,” Drix says, resting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. “Why don’t you go and grab Toby a drink of water? I’ll dress him and get him back into bed.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, rising to my feet.

Drix reaches for my hand, brushing his fingers gently against mine. “I’ve got this,” he says, meeting my eyes.

I nod, wordlessly slipping out of the bathroom. When I step inside the bedroom, I lean against the wall, pressing my eyes shut as tears slip from my eyes. How could I believe that I had protected Toby from the violence? He’s such an intuitive little boy, and there were nights when Martin had forced me to have sex. I thought Toby had been sleeping.

A sob releases from my throat, and I stuff my hand over my mouth, curling over as I try to prevent him from hearing my distress. It takes me a good couple of minutes to pull myself together, and whilst I remain where I stand, drawing in deep, calming breaths, I hear Drix quietly speaking with Toby.

“You don’t need to worry, kid, your Mama is strong, and she’s safe now. You both are,” he reassures him, the deep rumble of his voice soothing.

“Why did he hurt my mama?” Toby asks, his voice so filled with hurt I can barely keep my legs from buckling beneath me.

“I don’t know, kid. But I do know that I will never let him hurt your Ma again. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Toby asks, sniffling.

“I promise with my pinky, my big toe, my hand, my whole body, Toby,” he replies earnestly.

There’s a moment of silence before Toby responds, but what he says next has me wanting to scream at the top of my lungs for everything we’ve been through at the hands of his father.

“Will you hurt my Mama like Papa did?”

I have to pinch my lips together to stop myself from crying out, my heart shattering, bleeding with pain and overwhelming grief. It shudders through me, a tidal wave of debilitating emotion.

“Toby, I swear on everything I hold dear that I will never, ever hurt your mother like your father did. You have my word.”

“Drix, do you love my Mama like I do?” Toby asks after a beat.

There’s a long pause, my throat tightening as I listen.

“Yes, Toby. Yes, I do. Very much.”

“Good,” Toby replies

“And do you know what?”

“What?” he asks.

“I happen to love you too, kid,” he replies.

Tears flood from my eyes and I push off from the wall, stumbling towards the door, an overwhelming mixture of sadness and hope buffeting against me. I can barely see from all the tears cascading down my cheeks as I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. Thoughts ricochet inside my mind as I robotically grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water.

Toby knows that Martin hurt me.

I didn’t protect him enough.

My God, he knows.

He knows.

How will I ever recover from that knowledge? How will he?

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