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But I focus on the task at hand as Shay reaches overhead and commences rubbing around my wrist. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my pained scream.
Arching my neck, I see the soap needs more lather. We’re running out of time.
“Can you go into the bathroom and run the soap under some water? We need it to be really soapy. Can you do that?”
He must be able to sense the urgency to my tone as he runs for the bathroom where I hear the faucets being turned on. He returns, the suds covering his tiny hands and dripping onto the wooden floor.
“Thank you, Shay. You’re such a brave little boy.”
My encouragement spurs him on and determination overtakes him as he furiously commences rubbing the soap around my wrist and cuff. I move my wrist from side to side, begging it slips free. Each time I move it, I can feel it budge, bit by bit.
Shay continues lathering my skin, and with a sharp twist, I slide my wrist free.
“Oh, thank God!” I cry, reaching for Shay and pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead. “I can do it now.”
He offers me the soap, smiling happily.
I come to a stand, ignoring my jelly legs, and frantically rub the soap around my cuffed wrist, yanking at the metal. It moves a little, but I’m still bound tight.
Just as I’m about to ask Shay to run the soap under some more water, I hear a car door slam outside and footsteps get closer and closer.
“Shay,” I whisper, “can you see who’s outside? I need you to be really careful, though. They can’t see you.”
He tiptoes to the window and cautiously peers out. The lace curtain thankfully offers him some protection against whoever is outside.
“It’s the man.”
“What man?” I ask, still working the soap around my wrist desperately.
“The man who brought you here.”
My heart drops into my stomach because if Liam is here, then something is wrong. It means Shay is in danger. But I won’t let anything happen to him. I will protect him with my life.
“I need you to hide. Can you do that for me? Please, don’t make a sound,” I plead, long forgetting using the soap to break free.
Tears leak from my eyes, and I curse the universe for allowing history to repeat itself, for another five-year-old was forced to hide when monsters knocked on his door.
“I won’t leave ye,” he stubbornly contests.
I want to argue, but I don’t have time.
“Okay, turn your back and cover your ears,” I order and exhale in relief when he complies.
As the footsteps get closer to the front door, I close my eyes and bite down my tongue. Gripping my wrist, I count to three, before thrusting it downward, breaking it sharply. I see stars and almost pass out from the pain, but as I guide my wrist out of the cuff, I forget everything but getting the fuck out of here.
“Let’s go,” I say, removing the pillowcase to make a sling.
Once I slip my arm through it, I offer my good hand to Shay and quietly walk through the room. My legs are weak, and I’m afraid I won’t make it three steps, but when I see Liam through the curtain as he climbs the front steps, I forget everything because it doesn’t end this way.
I gesture with my head that we’re to walk down the hallway. The moment we step out, I put my finger over my lips. Shay nods.
Interlacing our hands once again, we tiptoe down the hallway, each step a gamble with our lives. I don’t look back. I can’t. The doorbell sounds, which has me quickening my steps as I desperately navigate my way around the house, looking for a back door.
I almost cry in relief when I see it.
Pulling a large knife from the wooden block, I tuck it into my sling and reach for the handle on the door. I turn it so slowly, I’m afraid it won’t open, but when it unlocks, a small sob escapes me.
Shay and I exit through the back door, where I close it softly. The backyard is small but has a tall fence. We’re going to have to climb it.
