Page 66 of At The End Of The Day

“Are you okay? What’s going on, acorn?”

“Mommy was here.”

In mid-pant, I seized, my eyelids rounding in horror. My heart thumping against my ribs, I held my breath and listened.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw her. She was standing over there,” her little voice echoed through the walls. “And she was all icky. She looked like a zombie.”

Vincent chuckled, but his voice was strained. “Aw, Piera, it was just a nightmare. You didn’t see your mommy—”

“I did, Vinny, I really, really did. She said you and Daddy made her go away. She didn’t have hands.”

My jaw fell, my fingers curling around the sheet, and Vincent dropped another stunned curse.

“What?” he nervously chuckled, trying to brush it off. “That’s crazy talk—”

“She said it was because of Jackyl.”

My features scrunched and my chin bowed, my free palm swiping the sweat from my face.

“It’s okay, little acorn. I know that was scary but look. See?” I heard the faint click of her light switch. “See? No one’s here.”

“I don’t wanna be here. She scared me. She yelled at me. I wanna go somewhere else.”

He groaned and said, “Hang on. Stay here. I’ll keep the light on.”

A moment later, he was peaking around the corner at me. His stare a little frantic, the whites showed around his irises, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How the fuck she know that, man? Only a few of us know Letta had her hands cut off. What the fuck is going on?”

My heart stuck in my throat, I stiffly shook my head. “I dunno, dude. I…I saw her, too. That’s why I yelled. She’s here, Vin.”

His eyelids rounded slightly and he coughed, appearing very anxious. “What do we do, man?”

“I guess we’re packing up. I can’t have my little acorn scared all the time. Where’s my phone? I’ll find us a hotel for a while—”

“Get the fuck outta here,” he snorted, fully stepping into the room. “You ain’t going to no goddamn hotel.”

“Vin, I gotta look after—”

He flipped a dismissive wrist and stepped out yet again. His footsteps thudding through the walls, he was in her room, his voice feigning excitement. “Well, guess what, acorn?”

“Huh?”

“Pack your things. We’re headed to my place for a while.”

I bristled and blinked rapidly, having not even considered that, for some reason.

“Really?”

“Yup. C’mon. Up, up. Grab everything you wanna bring.”

“Yay!” she squealed, her mattress creaking.

He chuckled and strolled back through my doorway, going to the closet.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing your shit.” He stepped into the large, walk in closet and set his hands on his sides. “Dash, you ain’t got shit in here.”