Page 90 of His Promise

“Mom?!”

“Quiet!” I snap, instantly regretting it when his face falls.

I move us into one of the stalls and lock the door. I put his face in my hands and look at him seriously. “I need you to trust me right now. We have to be really,reallyquiet. If someone comes through that door and they find us, I want you to run as fast as you can when I tell you to. Run into the store and tell the attendant to call the police, then when they come tell them to call Kirsten. Do you remember her number?”

He nods.

“What is it?” I ask, my hands on his face shaking. He whimpers and tears streak his cheeks. I’m scaring him, and my tone isn’t helping at all. I can’t help it though. I’m scared, myself.

Fucking terrified, actually.

He rattles off the ten digits we’ve practiced every night since Kirsten agreed to take in Zeke if anything happened to me. It’ll never work and I know it, but I can’t bring myself to lose hope anyway. Devin will scoop him up with no problems. If the police are called, I’ll be the one arrested.

I look around for something to use as a weapon but see nothing. There isn’t even a toilet bowl lip. The toilet is one of those metal ones that they have in parks without even a seat. Without even a thought I climb on the toilet, my sticky shoes soaking in water, and I gesture to Zeke to let me pick him up.

He gives me a questioning look and doesn’t move.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”

He lifts his arms and I use all my strength to raise him up. My feet shift and I almost fall, but I manage to regain my balance. I position Zeke’s feet on the edge of the toilet and hold him tight while crouching so my head doesn’t peek over the stall.

The door opens and I shake my head when Zeke whips in that direction. He shakes and it’s so hard to keep us both balanced, but I manage anyway.

I think about what I’ll do if that door opens, and a million possibilities come to mind. None of them are promising.

Footsteps echo off the walls and that same stickiness on the bottom of my shoe sounds with each menacing step the person takes. They stop by the first stall and the door creaks open. I wince. My whole body shakes, and I can hear the water in the toilet splash. Zeke’s panicked breaths fill the room.

He’s fucking with us. There’s no way he doesn’t know we’re in here.

Devin’s unmistakable tsk fills my ears and I loosen my hold on Zeke. Silently, I gesture for him to step back onto the floor. The stall door rattles as Zeke steps down and I point to the side of the stall. He presses his back against it.

With a loud kick reverberating off the walls, the lock on the door breaks and the door swings open. There Devin stands, silent rage in his eyes.

“Daddy?” Zeke whimpers.

I lunge at Devin and surprise him enough that I manage to push him back into the wall.

“Run!” I scream.

Zeke bolts as I punch at Devin’s chest. Zeke doesn’t make it to the door before Devin shoves me to the ground with one hand and grabs Zeke by the collar with his other.

“Go stand by the sink,” Devin instructs, his tone ice cold.

That’s the scariest thing about Devin. He never yells, his face never turns red, he never rages. He’s cold and calculating, a type of calm cruel you wouldn’t know exists if you didn’t experience it yourself.

Zeke obeys his father, and when I open my mouth to interject Devin kicks me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. I gag, one side of my side pressed against the cold, sticky floor.

“Turn around,” Devin orders when Zeke makes it to the sink. He’s openly crying now, and I imagine him shaking with his sobs. It’s something I’m sure Devin will reprimand him for, just as soon as he’s done with me.

Zeke must have done what he was told, because Devin bends and yanks my head up a foot by my hair. I wince but keep quiet. I stopped whimpering from Devin’s attacks a long time ago.

“Did you really think you could run from me?” he asks. There’s venom in his tone, and I know what he plans to do as soon as I open my mouth to speak. I choose to keep it closed.

He slams my head to the floor anyway, careful to avoid my face so there’s no obvious bruising.

He stands and kicks me several times, each one sending my body sliding on the floor until I’m backed into a stall. I’m not able to take a breath until my lungs burn so badly they manage to suck in air through the pain.

Zeke’s cries hurt worse than the injuries.

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