Chapter 2
I didn’t think.
I just reached.
Fingers brushing his cold, dirty cheek.
The rag fell from his mouth when I moved my hand.
“Mom,” he croaked.
His voice was barely a whisper.
Rough from disuse, from the dust, from crying.
I sobbed his name.
Tried to lift him, but my arms were shaking too bad.
“Jamie. Oh my god, Jamie.”
Mara screamed behind me.
“No! Put him back! You don’t understand—”
She lunged for the board, like she could slam it back down over him.
I twisted around.
Shielded his body with mine.
“Get away from him!” I shrieked.
Lila was crying harder now, pressed into the corner of the couch, her hands over her ears.
“Lila, call 911!” I yelled.
“Now!”
She scrambled for the landline on the side table.
Fingers fumbling with the cord.
Mara was still screaming.
Words I couldn’t make out, mixing with sobs and pleas.
I turned back to Jamie.
Untied the rope around his wrists.
His skin was raw, purple where it had cut in.
He whimpered when I moved his arm.
“I got you, baby. I got you. You’re safe now.”
I lifted him.
He was so light.
Lighter than he’d been three weeks ago, when he’d walked out the front door to get the mail and never come back.
His clothes were dirty, stiff with old sweat and dirt.
I carried him to the couch.
Laid him down on the cleanest throw blanket we had.
Lila was on the phone, her small voice trembling as she told the operator what happened.
“My brother is under the floor. Aunt Mara tried to hurt him. Please come.”
Mara had stopped screaming.
She was on the floor by the kitchen, her back against the cabinets, rocking back and forth.
Her hands were over her face.
“I didn’t mean to,” she kept saying.
“I didn’t mean to.”
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
All I could see was Jamie.
His eyes, half-closed, tracking my face like he was scared I’d disappear too.
I brushed the hair from his forehead.
It was greasy, matted at the ends.
“Water,” he whispered.
I nodded.
Stood up to get a glass from the kitchen.
Mara grabbed my ankle as I passed.
Her fingers cold, clammy.
“Please,” she said.
“Don’t let them take me. I’m your sister.”
I wrenched my foot away.
“You’re not my sister,” I said.
My voice was dead, flat.
“You took my son.”
I got the water.
Helped Jamie sip it slow.
He coughed a little when it went down wrong.
I rubbed his back.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Getting closer.
Lila hung up the phone.
Crawled onto the couch next to Jamie.
Held his hand.
Her small fingers wrapping around his.
“He’s okay, Mom,” she said.
Like she was trying to convince herself too.
I nodded.
Tears streaming down my face, hot and fast.
The sirens stopped outside.
Doors slamming.
Boots on the porch.
A loud knock.
“Police! Open up!”
I stood.
Walked to the door.
Unlocked it.
Two uniformed officers stood there, hands on their belts.
Behind them, an ambulance, lights flashing red and blue across the front yard.
“Help me,” I said.
May you like
My voice broke.
“My son is in there.”
