Page 34 of For the Love of Layla

“Mother, he was hurting Miss. Katla!”

She stops trying to shove me away as she stills, looking down at my reddened face.

“Grace,” Mr. Collins pleads, looking just as scared as I feel.

Good, you won’t get away with what you did.

“What were they doing exactly, Liam?” She asks as she pulls me to my feet. Her touch is gentler than usual, catching me off guard. I look down my cheeks feel hot, “He was… having sex with her, but she wasn’t happy, mother. She was hurt and crying.”

I stumble backwards as she pushes hard on my shoulder, shoving me away, her eyes glued to Mr. Collins as she speaks, “Go to your room, Liam.”

“Grace…”

I glare at him as he pleads again with mother. She won’t listen to him, I know it. She’s going to get him in so much trouble for hurting Miss. Katla.

I saved her, just like Batman would’ve.

The screaming continues all night long. Even down the hall through the thick wooden doors of the manor I can hear mother yelling at him. It makes me feel proud, knowing I did the right thing. That pride doesn’t last long when the sound of Miss. Katla’s cries trickle in from beneath my door the next morning. I rub my sleep filled blue eyes glancing over at the clock. It’s 4 a.m.

Why is she crying?

I sit there for a moment waiting for her to come in, but when her cries become fainter, I throw off the covers. Not bothering to slip on my house shoes as my bare feet hit the cold marble floor. I slowly open the door, trying to hide the creaking as I slip out into the hall.

Where did she go? Mother fixed everything, right?

I pad down the dark hall towards my mother’s bedroom and the parlor she passes out in more often than her bed. A sick feeling pools in my gut as I watch her take Mr. Collins’ hands in hers, smirking at him as she pulls him into her bedroom.

How could you smile at him after what he did?

I frown, making my way to Miss. Katla’s room. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe she wasn’t upset like I thought. I try to convince myself of that as I follow the sound of her cries. Each one making the pain in my chest bite a little deeper. I’ll make it better though.

I can cheer her up. I’ll take care of her like she does me when I cry.

I stop in the tracks, running back down the hall to my bathroom, jerking the batman band-aids from the back of my bathroom drawer. I can fix where he hit her, it’ll make her smile for sure. Even if she is too old to like Batman. I know it will make her happy. As I hit the threshold of her cool room, it strikes me how different the dark wood walls and floor are from the white marble of the house. She falls to the floor beside the bed, pulling a suitcase from underneath it as she wipes her nose on her sleeve. A red stain by her bottom on her dress makes my stomach feel funny.

“Miss. Katla?”

She clears her throat, quickly wiping away her tears as she turns to me, but that familiar smile seems… off. It doesn’t reach her big eyes. “Lítla Liam, you should be in bed.” I walk into the room sitting down beside her on the floor. Her face looks swollen and puffy, much worse than it did yesterday. Did mother get mad at her?

“Did you get in trouble?” I whisper as my hands shake, her eyes trailing to the suitcase.

“Liam, listen to me. None of this is your fault.” She says those words like a vow, but they hold no meaning because she couldn’t be more wrong. This is my fault.

How couldn’t it be?

I don’t stop her as she pulls me into her arms, holding me tightly, her tears soaking my shirt the same way mine does hers. She sniffles as she pulls back, running her small fingers through my hair. I can’t help but to lean into her palm.

“Promise me something, master Liam.”

I nod, my heart pounding at the seriousness in her voice.

I would do anything for you.

“When you grow up, you’ll be even stronger and smarter than Batman. I want you to leave this place. I want you to find me so I can see your copper hair and tease you about how big you’ve gotten. Promise me, Liam.”

Find you?

I pull away from her, my eyes falling on her open closet. My heart splits in half, threatening to pull from my chest. “You’re leaving me?”

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