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“Thank you, Miss Heather!” a few of the girls ring out after they get their treat. They all run to the door of the room, waiting patiently for me to let them out.
The last out is always my little buddy, Emery. “Hey, sweet girl, did you have fun today?” I ask her as we come out of the room. I don’t notice Brit anywhere, so I guide Emery back into my office so I can grab a snack before my next class.
“Where is my mommy?” Emery asks as she goes to the little desk in the corner of my office, smashing the slime she just got between her fingers and the hard surface.
“I’m not sure, sweet girl. Let me call her.” I pull my phone out of my desk drawer and pull up her contact. We have texted a few times over the last few weeks, but it’s never been about anything too serious.
“Hello?” Brit croaks through my speaker.
I immediately feel myself go tense at her tone. Something is wrong. “Hey, is everything okay?”
“Uhm, y-yeah,” she responds shakily.
“Where are you?”
“Holy shit, it’s five! I’ll be right there! I am so sorry!” she cries.
“Brit, it’s okay. She’s here with me in the office. I’ll keep her back here until you get here.”
“I’m on my way. I am so sorry!”
“It’s fine, just drive safe.” I press the red button, ending the call and immediately pull up Trigger’s contact, pressing the dial button.
“Hey, Red.”
“I need you to come to the studio,” I say, controlling my tone so Emery doesn’t catch onto anything.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I can hear him dropping tools down on the bench in the background. “Henry, office.”
“How’d you get Henry to the shop this morning? You rode your bike?”
Trigger chuckles. “I’ll show you what I bought when we get home. Now, what’s going on?”
“Just hurry up. Hopefully you get here before she does. I have little ears listening so I can’t say much,” I whisper.
“I’ll be right there, babe.”
Looking at the clock, I roll my eyes. It takes three minutes before the pipes of Trigger’s bike rumbles the walls of the studio. The alarm beeps in the space of my office, alerting the front door opening. Even with all the bustle of the studio, I can make out Trigger’s heavy footsteps in his boots heading back to the office before he flings the door open.
“What happened?” he asks with uncertainty, his anxious eyes examining me from head to toe before taking a deep breath.
“I’m fine, I just have a bad feeling and want you here for when she arrives.”
“When who arrives? What’s going on, Heather?”
I round my desk, getting closer to him so I can whisper without Emery’s little ears hearing. “Brit wasn’t here to pick up Emery. When I called her, she sounded disheveled. I have a really bad feeling in my gut.”
“Emery!” Brit’s panicked voice echoes through the office from the hallway.
A second later, Brit comes through the door in a whirlwind. I gasp at the sight of her. The first time I met her and Emery at the open house, she was a stunning woman. The woman in front of me is a shell of the woman I met that day.
Her hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head and the glasses sitting on her nose are clearly broken, being held to her face on one side by pure gravity. The loose tank top she has on is ripped in several places. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints light up her shoulder and lower forearm. I can briefly make out faded bruises along her jawline.
“Mommy!” Emery cheers and runs to her excitedly.
“Hi, baby!” Brit drops right down on her knee to get to her daughter's eye level. As soon as she turns to hug her daughter, I’m able to see the outline of knuckles on her cheekbone, and her face is swollen up to her eye.
“What happened this time, mommy?” Emery asks so sweetly, pressing her tiny hand against her mom's face.
