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“Don, take me to the hospital. Now!”
“I should thank you. I’d wanted to do this for a long time.” Don kicks Nando’s body.
“We can sort out that asshole later.”
“Oh, believe me, you’ll want me to sort him out sooner than you’re prepared to wait.”
Thomas returns. “Sir, let me take her.”
“Thomas, stay with Raffi!” I command.
“I’ll make all this disappear,” Don claims, giving Nando another glance. He then gets up as if he has to speak his next statement while looking down at me. “I’ll save you, and perhaps your unborn child too. But you must promise me something.”
“You’ll get Nando’s business. That’s a promise.”
“Well, that’s not a promise. That’s a given. What I mean, Iz. You murdered your boyfriend and the father of your child, or children, in cold blood. It’ll take a lot more for me to clean it up—from this place, to the morgue, to the police. You know the drill.” He pops a mint gum into his mouth. “Not to mention keeping Social Services at bay.”
Terror pours into my pain-wracked body. He can take anything from me, but not Raffi!
“What do you want from me?”
“Just promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“You just have to promise, my darling.”
My cramping escalates. It feels like a rake is scraping the wall of my belly. I can hardly breathe.
Don grips my jaw tightly in his fingers. “Say you promise.”
My lips quiver. “Yes… I pro…mise.”
The filthy man kisses me. “Good.” Then he yells toward the porch. “Thomas!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take her to the hospital,” Don instructs as he saunters out of the house. His black-clothed frame moves like a shadow, so skinny it might as well be a skeleton in a robe. But I know his power. The weight of his presence is more than just a shadow in my life.
“Come on, Iz,” Thomas covers me with a throw blanket to hide my stained clothes. He’s about to pull me up. “Jesus, your hand… your hand!”
“Just take me to the car!” I shout at him, snapping him out of panic. The kid is only eighteen. He shouldn’t have seen so much blood, but he’s my only hope right now.
Thomas drags me up by the armpits. I’m standing, but my God…
I wail in agony. I can hear it trail across the hallway.
“You can do it. Come on, babe,” Thomas encourages as we navigate the front porch steps.
Raffi is waiting for me in Thomas’s car. “Mom! Are you okay?”
Seeing my son’s face, I leave the trail of my agony at the door. I grin at him. Despite the tragedy and the unknown ahead, I have done something for him. He doesn’t have to be afraid of that ‘monster man’ anymore. “Yes, baby, I’m okay.”
“Thomas found Mr. Oreo.” Raffi innocently shows off the toy he’s cuddling.
“Good. Good.” I caress him with my uninjured hand.
Thomas reverses the car wildly, as if it’s his first time driving.
