Chapter 6
Two weeks after the hearing, I picked Lily up from school.
Tom walked a few steps behind us, his eyes scanning the parking lot, his hand resting on his hip.
Lily was chattering about her day, about the art project she’d made, about the new friend she’d made at recess, her rabbit swinging from her hand.
I was smiling, listening, my guard down for the first time all day.
That was when he struck.
Daniel jumped out from behind a big oak tree at the edge of the parking lot.
He was wearing a hoodie, his face half covered, his eyes wild, bloodshot, drunk.
He ran at us fast, faster than I could react.
He grabbed Lily’s arm.
Hard.
She screamed, a high, terrified sound that cut right through me.
“Daddy’s got you, baby!” he yelled, yanking her toward him. “We’re going away! Just you and me! Forever!”
I lunged.
I grabbed Lily’s other arm, pulled as hard as I could, screaming his name, screaming for help.
Lily was crying, gasping, her asthma already kicking in, her chest heaving.
“Let her go!” I screamed. “You’re hurting her! Let her go!”
Daniel laughed, a crazy, sharp sound.
“Never!” he yelled. “She’s mine! You’ll never have her again!”
Then Tom was there.
He moved so fast he was a blur.
He grabbed Daniel’s shoulder, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the hood of a parked car.
Daniel grunted, his grip on Lily’s arm loosening.
I yanked her free, pulled her into my arms, held her so tight I was afraid I’d break her.
She was wheezing, her face white, her lips turning blue.
I fumbled in my purse for her inhaler, my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
I pressed it to her mouth, pumped it twice, and held her tight, whispering over and over that she was safe, that I had her, that Daddy was gone.
Jake ran over, helped Tom hold Daniel down.
The police arrived five minutes later, sirens blaring.
They cuffed Daniel, read him his rights, and dragged him to the car.
He screamed the whole way, spitting, kicking, yelling that he’d kill us all, that he’d burn the school down, that no one could keep him from his daughter.
The paramedics checked Lily over.
Her oxygen levels were low, so they took us to the hospital in an ambulance, lights and sirens.
I sat in the back, holding Lily on my lap, the oxygen mask on her face, her small hand clamped around mine.
She didn’t say a word the whole ride.
She just stared at the ceiling, her eyes wide, empty, like she wasn’t really there.
Richard met us at the ER.
He ran into the waiting room, his face white, his shirt unbuttoned, like he’d run all the way from his car.
“Is she okay?” he yelled, before he even reached us.
The doctor came out a few minutes later.
She said Lily was going to be fine.
The asthma attack had been bad, but the inhaler and oxygen had brought her levels back up.
She’d given Lily a sedative to help her sleep, to help her calm down.
She said we could take her home in a couple of hours, but she recommended more therapy, more structure, no more surprises.
I walked into Lily’s room.
She was asleep in the hospital bed, her arm in a soft bandage where Daniel had grabbed her, the bruise already turning purple and black.
Her face was pale, her hair messy, her rabbit tucked under her good arm.
I sat on the edge of the bed, held her hand, and cried.
Quiet, heaving sobs I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I’d failed her.
I’d let my guard down.
I’d let him get close enough to hurt her again.
What if Tom hadn’t been there?
What if he’d gotten her into his car?
I’d never have seen her again.
I’d have spent the rest of my life wondering if she was alive, if she was scared, if she needed me.
Richard walked in a few minutes later.
He didn’t say anything.
He just sat down next to me, put his arm around my shoulders, and let me cry into his shirt.
He held me while I sobbed, while I told him I was a bad mother, while I said I couldn’t do this anymore, that I was too tired, too scared.
After a long time, when my tears slowed, he tilted my chin up, made me look at him.
His eyes were wet, his face soft.
“You are the best mother I have ever known,” he said, his voice rough. “You have spent eight years protecting that little girl with everything you have. You didn’t fail her. You saved her. If you hadn’t grabbed her arm, if you hadn’t fought him, he would have taken her. You are her hero. Don’t you ever forget that.”
He paused.
He wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb.
“And I promise you,” he said. “This is the last time he ever gets near her. The last time. I’m going to make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life. I don’t care what I have to do. I don’t care how much money I have to spend. He will never hurt either of you again.”
We took Lily home a couple of hours later.
She slept the whole way, curled up in my lap in the back seat.
Tom and Jake followed close behind, their lights off, their eyes sharp.
I carried Lily into the house, put her to bed, and sat in the chair next to her, just like I used to.
I didn’t sleep that night.
I just watched her breathe, watched the bruise on her arm throb purple under the bandage, and let the anger build in my chest.
Hot, sharp, burning anger.
Anger at Daniel.
Anger at myself.
Anger at a world that let men like him hurt women and children over and over again, with almost no consequences.
I pulled out my phone, called my lawyer.
She answered on the first ring, even though it was three in the morning.
“We’re adding every charge we can,” I said, my voice cold, steady, no fear left in it at all. “Attempted kidnapping. Violation of a restraining order. Child endangerment. Assault. Everything. I want the maximum sentence. No plea deals. No parole. I want him gone. Forever.”
My lawyer didn’t hesitate.
“Consider it done,” she said.
I hung up, put my phone down, and looked back at Lily.
She stirred in her sleep, mumbled something about bunnies, and rolled over.
The bruise on her arm peeked out from under the blanket.
I leaned over, kissed her forehead, soft.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise. On my life.”
Outside, the sun started to come up.
A new day.
A new fight.
And this time?
I wasn’t just fighting for freedom.
May you like
I was fighting for revenge.
And I was going to win.
