Page 144 of Fighting Chance

I hate the belt.

The latch to the trunk flicks.

I can’t help but gasp. I didn’t even hear Mommy’s click-clack shoes this time.

My lips are lifting into a smile as the rush of fresh air tickles my skin and it feels like I can breathe again?—

My smile falls.

It isn’t Mommy opening the trunk. It’s a man.

Is he one of Mommy’s new friends? I don’t like his smile. His smile is creepy and his eyes are black. Mommy’s eyes go black like that when she hits me.

Before I realize it, I’m shaking my head.

This is a bad man. A bad, bad, bad man.

He reaches in, grabbing my arms. “Come here, boy,” he sing-songs.

I’m screaming before I can remind myself of the belt.

“No!” He hefts me into his arms. Kicking and thrashing, I look around the room wildly. “Mom! Mommy! No, please no!”

This is a bad man. I don’t want this bad man near me.

My mommy comes rushing in, her brown hair all messed up, her eyes wearing that crazy look she has when she disappears for days and I’m left to watch TV alone.

She coos. “It’s okay, baby, this is Mommy’s friend. You have to be a good boy for Mommy’s friend and do what he says. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

My heart is beating so fast black spots start to appear and I suddenly can’t see as the man takes me into the living room and throws me onto the couch.

“No, no, no!”

“Be a good boy for your mom,” he spits.

“Kieran?”

My head snaps up at Layla’s voice, the memory fading.

I’m in my hallway. How long have I been standing here?

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice timid as she walks toward me slowly. She’s approaching me like I’m a cornered animal.

I nod my head quickly, only to shake it.

My body feels weird, out of sorts and a bit floaty, like I’m suspended in air. With Emmy’s confession sparking my own memories, my hands are tingling by my sides, my brain foggy and I feel so unlike myself I swear I’m not even in my body right now.

“Kieran, should I go?”

I hear Layla ask the question, and if I was in my right mind, I’d realize all her little cues showing me she’s nervous and unsure what to do, but for some reason I can’t act on them.

It’s been years since I’ve remembered that particular friend of my mom’s, the one she would deal with and exchange things for drugs, one of them being me. Those memories…they’ve been buried for averylong time.

“I-I’m not sure.” Rubbing a hand down my face, I sigh. “Maybe.”

Her eyes widen, blinking at me rapidly. “Of course, I’m so sorry I intruded. I was just worried when you didn’t come back for so long and—” She shakes herself. “I’m rambling, you want to be left alone. I’m sorry.”

And with that, she spins on her heel and rushes down the stairs.