Chapter 6
"Come with me," Dad said again, his grip tightening around my small fingers. His eyes were desperate, searching mine.
My heart cracked. In my past life, he had tried to take me. He'd always planned to take me. I was the one who betrayed him.
"I can't, Daddy." I pulled my hand free. "I'll slow you down. My leg —"
"I don't care about your leg. I'm not leaving you here." His voice broke. The first crack in his wall of hatred.
From the living room, I heard Grandma shift in her recliner. The TV volume lowered slightly.
We were running out of time.
"Daddy, listen." I gripped his wrist with both hands. "If I go with you, Grandma will notice immediately. She checks on me every hour. But if I stay, I can cover for you. I can give you at least two hours before they realize you're gone."
"No —"
"Two hours is the difference between freedom and them catching you." I shoved him toward the hallway. "Go. Please. I'll be okay. Marcus is going to help me. I have a plan."
It was a lie. I had no plan for myself. But Dad didn't need to know that.
Dad's face contorted with agony. He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time — not as the child who betrayed him, but as something else entirely.
"Lily..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"The code is 7-7-1-9-0-3," I said firmly. "Go now, Daddy. Run and don't look back."
He knelt and pulled me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest and breathed him in — sweat, blood, and something warm beneath it all. Something that was just Dad.
Then he let go. He wiped his eyes, straightened up, and moved.
I watched him disappear down the east hallway toward the garage, his bare feet silent on the cold floor.
I heard the garage door creak. The car engine start. A pause — punching in the gate code.
The gate opened.
Tires on gravel, accelerating, then fading into distance.
He was gone.
I stood alone in the hallway, tears streaming down my face, smiling so hard it hurt.
...
I walked back to the living room. Grandma was dozing in her recliner, TV still droning. I positioned myself on the floor near the storage room door, playing with my stuffed rabbit, ready to perform.
An hour passed. Then another.
At 1:45 pm, Grandma stirred. She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Lily, go bring that man his lunch."
I stood up, walked to the storage room, opened the door, and screamed.
"Grandma! He's gone! He's gone!"
Grandma shot out of her chair faster than I'd ever seen her move. She stormed to the storage room and saw the empty chain on the floor, the padlock open.
Her face drained of color.
She grabbed my arm so hard I felt the bones grind. "How? How did he get out? Did you see anything?"
I shook my head frantically, crying real tears. "I didn't see anything, Grandma! I was playing right here the whole time!"
Grandma's hand cracked across my face. "Useless child!" She reached for her phone and dialed Mom.
I heard Mom's shriek through the speaker from across the room. Then the line went dead.
Within thirty minutes, Mom was home, face white with fury. She tore through the house, checking every room, every door.
"The garage car is gone," she snarled. "He took the goddamn car."
Grandma was already on the phone with someone — one of her "contacts." She spoke in clipped, cold tones. "He's been gone at least two hours, possibly more. Gray sedan, license plate —"
I prayed. I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed in two lifetimes.
*Two hours, Daddy. You have a two-hour head start. Please be far enough. Please.*
My heart cracked. In my past life, he had tried to take me. He'd always planned to take me. I was the one who betrayed him.
"I can't, Daddy." I pulled my hand free. "I'll slow you down. My leg —"
"I don't care about your leg. I'm not leaving you here." His voice broke. The first crack in his wall of hatred.
From the living room, I heard Grandma shift in her recliner. The TV volume lowered slightly.
We were running out of time.
"Daddy, listen." I gripped his wrist with both hands. "If I go with you, Grandma will notice immediately. She checks on me every hour. But if I stay, I can cover for you. I can give you at least two hours before they realize you're gone."
"No —"
"Two hours is the difference between freedom and them catching you." I shoved him toward the hallway. "Go. Please. I'll be okay. Marcus is going to help me. I have a plan."
It was a lie. I had no plan for myself. But Dad didn't need to know that.
Dad's face contorted with agony. He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time — not as the child who betrayed him, but as something else entirely.
"Lily..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"The code is 7-7-1-9-0-3," I said firmly. "Go now, Daddy. Run and don't look back."
He knelt and pulled me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest and breathed him in — sweat, blood, and something warm beneath it all. Something that was just Dad.
Then he let go. He wiped his eyes, straightened up, and moved.
I watched him disappear down the east hallway toward the garage, his bare feet silent on the cold floor.
I heard the garage door creak. The car engine start. A pause — punching in the gate code.
The gate opened.
Tires on gravel, accelerating, then fading into distance.
He was gone.
I stood alone in the hallway, tears streaming down my face, smiling so hard it hurt.
...
I walked back to the living room. Grandma was dozing in her recliner, TV still droning. I positioned myself on the floor near the storage room door, playing with my stuffed rabbit, ready to perform.
An hour passed. Then another.
At 1:45 pm, Grandma stirred. She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Lily, go bring that man his lunch."
I stood up, walked to the storage room, opened the door, and screamed.
"Grandma! He's gone! He's gone!"
Grandma shot out of her chair faster than I'd ever seen her move. She stormed to the storage room and saw the empty chain on the floor, the padlock open.
Her face drained of color.
She grabbed my arm so hard I felt the bones grind. "How? How did he get out? Did you see anything?"
I shook my head frantically, crying real tears. "I didn't see anything, Grandma! I was playing right here the whole time!"
Grandma's hand cracked across my face. "Useless child!" She reached for her phone and dialed Mom.
I heard Mom's shriek through the speaker from across the room. Then the line went dead.
Within thirty minutes, Mom was home, face white with fury. She tore through the house, checking every room, every door.
"The garage car is gone," she snarled. "He took the goddamn car."
Grandma was already on the phone with someone — one of her "contacts." She spoke in clipped, cold tones. "He's been gone at least two hours, possibly more. Gray sedan, license plate —"
I prayed. I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed in two lifetimes.
*Two hours, Daddy. You have a two-hour head start. Please be far enough. Please.*