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Something cold glides over my skin, painful sensations rocking my body while I breathe heavily and barely manage to open my eyes, only to whimper in distress when a maniac greets me, his gray eyes flashing in delight. They seem exceptionally large on his mask-covered face while his gloved fingers wrap around my throat, the air sticking in my lungs. He brings the blood-smeared knife to his mouth and licks it, my stomach turning at the sight because he stabbed my cousin with it just seconds ago. “I set you free, darling. One day, you’ll thank me.”
With a loud gasp, I sit up in bed, my raspy breath filling the room while the pounding in my head makes me wince. I rub my neck, only now realizing I’ve fallen asleep on the couch right after taking a long shower. I’ll pay for it later.
I always pay one way or the other when I decide to randomly fall asleep as only complete exhaustion after a few days allows me a blank state of mind with no nightmares to scrape at the remaining pieces of my heart.
I glance at the clock and sigh. It’s only two in the morning. “Just great.” Throwing the blanket away, I swing my legs to the side and go to the window to open it wide, breathing in the scent of wet granite after the rain, although judging by the dark clouds remaining in the sky, Mother Nature isn’t done.
The wind billows my hair, and a smile tips up my lips when it breezes over my form. The skirt of my summer dress plasters over my legs, and I rub my feet against each other. “Chicago. Even your weather is unwelcoming. I love it.”
My stomach rumbles, and I wonder if there’s a place that delivers here at this hour because I didn’t have any time to buy food.
“Probably not,” I mutter, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge, only to blink several times in surprise when I see it's stocked. From the water bottles to fruits, vegetables, and some cheeses and bread. There is even a big container in the second row, and I take it out. “What in the hell?” I tear the note attached to it and read it out loud. “This is your favorite chicken pasta, cooked today. Heat it up and eat.”
Oh my God.
My best friend is a gift from heaven because who else would have known me so well to even put a homemade meal inside the fridge to feed my hunger? “Giselle, you’re one of a kind.” I’ll message her in the morning to thank her because if I do it now…she’ll call me trying to calm me down, and I don’t want that.
She found her happily ever after, so she doesn’t need to worry about me. Especially not after what she’s been through.
I place the container on the counter, and I’m about to grab a plate when three knocks rock off the door, halting my movements.
Alarm bells go off in my head at this, and without thinking, I grab a nearby knife and tiptoe to the entrance, looking through the peephole. My brow furrows when I see no one on the other side.
Even though I know better, I still flip the lock but keep the chain on, partially widening the door, and that’s when my eyes land on a small box in front of my apartment with a red bow attached to it.
Shutting the door and removing the chain, I open it again and lean down to pick it up, rattling it a little to hear something shift inside it. A chuckle escapes me at the squeaky clean white box because, once again, it has Giselle written all over it. I won’t be surprised if it’s some lucky charm to bless the new place. I’m about to go back inside when I notice the small boy from earlier sitting several feet away, resting his back against the wall while he hugs his knees. “Hey!” I call. He jerks at my voice, his big blue eyes widening, and he freezes. “What are you doing here?”
He digs inside his pocket and snatches out a paper, extending it to me.
I come closer, take it, and read it.
Mind your business. My kid is none of your concern.
He places his hand on his throat, opens his mouth from which comes no sound, and closes it again as if trying to explain to me that he doesn’t talk.
The child is non-verbal.
Before I can say anything else, I hear loud moans echoing through the hallway, followed by grunts and what seems to be the headboard banging against the wall. All the sounds come from his apartment. His shoulders sag while he covers his ears with his palms, and anger zaps through me akin to a hot volcano wanting to burn these fucking assholes alive.
I take a step toward the door, ready to unleash my fury on them because they kicked their child out in the middle of the night, leaving him vulnerable to God knows who. He jumps up and catches my hand, shaking his head and still gazing down as if begging me not to do it.
My heart breaks at the sight of him, his actions alone speaking about repercussions he might face after everything is said and done because, in most cases, no one gives a shit what happens inside someone’s home.
They might be horrified after something happens to the child or say that the neighbors always seem weird, but to actually do something in order to save a child?
Nothing.
And in those rare cases when someone reports it…it’s either too late or people don’t care once again, giving an endless number of chances to unfit parents who end up scarring their children more in best-case scenarios or straight up killing them in the worst.
“Come on, kid.” I push him in the direction of my apartment while his brows lift in surprise. “You can stay at my place. Do you usually wait long?” I wonder if he doesn’t speak by choice or if something happened to him in the past.
God knows with such parents that the possibilities are endless.
He runs inside the apartment, and I groan inwardly at his easy trust. What if it was someone creepy wanting to hurt him?
Kids are too innocent for this world, and it’s a shame they sometimes get shitty parents who should have stayed forever alone for their inability to care about anyone but themselves.
I shut the door behind us, putting the box on the counter when he points at the wooden clock on the table and taps on the number five.
