Page 8 of Vows Made in Silence
They were inside your home. They walked through your life like it belonged to them.
I pace, calculating next steps. Do I call the police? What would I even say? That someone stole an untraceable phone and left a ghost text in its place?
I stop in front of the hallway mirror, my reflection staring back—tired, haunted, angry.
They want me to be afraid. That’s how this game starts.
But I’ve played it before.
I don’t grab my bag. Not yet.
First, I go to Daniel’s room.
The door creaks as I open it, my pulse drumming hard enough to burst. I hold my breath until I see him—still curled under his muscle car sheets, exactly where I left him.
But I can’t leave him here alone.
I cross the room and kneel by the bed, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. He stirs, blinking up at me, groggy. “Mom?”
I force a smile. “I need to get to the gallery early. Something came up. I’m going to ask Ms. Betty if you can stay with her for a little while until I get back.”
His brow furrows, eyes suddenly sharper. “Mom, I’m not a kid.”
My throat tightens. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand me?” My voice comes out harder than I intend—laced with a fear I can’t name.
His mouth opens to argue, but something in my face stops him. He nods instead. Silent. Obedient. My brave boy.
I kiss his forehead, holding it there for a moment longer than I should.
Then I grab my bag and phone.
Within minutes, I’m walking Daniel across the hall to Ms. Betty’s apartment. He’s clutching his backpack and yawning. I knock softly. Betty answers in her robe, eyes widening when she sees my face.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I need you to do something for me.”
I crouch beside Daniel, brushing his cheek. “You’re staying here today. No school. No going outside. Not until I come back.”
He scowls. “But why—”
I press a finger to his lips. “Because I said so. Please, just do this for me.”
To Betty, I hand a small burner phone from my coat pocket. “If you don’t hear from me by the end of the day, call this number. Ask for Jack. Don’t tell him anything else. Just say my name. He’ll know what to do.”
Betty blinks at the phone. “Is this—?”
“Yes,” I cut in. “And whatever you do, don’t go near my apartment. Not for any reason. Promise me.”
Her face pales. She nods slowly, gripping the phone. She’s the only one who knows the truth. And I pray to God she never has to use it.
—
The gallery is quiet when I arrive.
Too quiet.
It’s early—before staff hours—but the silence feels loaded. Like the walls are listening. I step inside with my key card and wait for the soft beep that confirms access, then lock the door behind me.
