Chapter One

Delphi Mae

“M a, let me come with you. You don’t need to be going anywhere by yourself right now.”

“I’m fine, sweetie,” I smile at my wonderful teenager. “You can’t afford to miss any more school. Besides, I can’t very well shop for your birthday gift if you’re with me, now, can I?”

“I don’t need a gift, Ma. I need to make sure you’re safe. At least let me come with you this morning to the interview, and then you can drop me off at school after you’re finished.”

My heart breaks for my beautiful boy. I have always done everything I could to ensure he has had a great life, but the world keeps fighting against us.

“Ma.”

“Go to school, Elijah,” I sigh. “He’s not a threat anymore. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe so, Ma,” he says, his voice edged with tension. “But you know better than most that the world is full of dangerous people. Most of them look like the nicest folks a person could meet. This guy could kill you and then go to church with a smile on his face. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

Grabbing Eli’s bag, I hand it to him and reach up to move a wayward curl from his forehead. The older he gets, the more he looks like his father. A thought that doesn’t make me the least bit happy. But, at the same time, I only see Eli, my wonderful, brave son.

“We don’t have a choice, son,” I remind him. “If I don’t get a job, we’re going to end up on the streets.”

“I’ll quit school and get a job,” he says earnestly. “I’ll take care of us, Ma.”

“Oh, my baby boy,” I smile sadly. “It’s not your job to take care of us. Now, go to school, and when you get home, I’ll make us some hotdogs and tell you all about it.”

“I’m not happy about this, Ma,” he says, kissing my cheek and walking to the apartment door.

“I know, honey. But thank you, anyway. Love you. Have a good day.”

“Love you, too, Ma. You better be okay when I get home, or I’ll track the bastard down and make him pay.”

With those final words, Elijah walks out and shuts the door. But I know it wasn’t an empty threat. I know exactly what my son will do and sacrifice to keep me safe.

***two months ago***

“What do you mean he’s been released?” I ask the officer on the other end of the line, my voice trembling.

“He was released on parole three weeks ago, Ms. Lewis.”

“Why?”

“He’s all but served his time. He was approved for early release because of good behavior.”

“Good behavior?” my voice cracks. “Three weeks ago? Why am I just now being told?”

“I’m not sure. But if you have any questions, you can reach out, and we will help you as best we can. Have a good day.”

“I have many questions,” I say frantically, but it’s useless. The officer has already disconnected the call.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Who was that?”

“Officer Brom from Harborbrook Penitentiary,” I whisper, my voice barely steady. “He’s been released.”

***one week later***

“I think we have enough to make chili,” I tell Elijah. “Does that sound okay for dinner?”

“Course, Ma,” he calls out from his room. “I’m going to mow old man Charley’s yard tomorrow for some extra cash. I’ll grab a pizza on the way home, so you don’t have to cook.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey,” I smile. “But you can save your money. I should have enough left after the bills to buy us one.”

“Not happening, Ma,” he says, his voice firm. “Gonna hit the shower. Be out in a few.”

Shaking my head, I don’t even bother trying to argue with him. He’s as hardheaded as his Ma.

Stirring the pot of chili, I smile when I hear him walk into the room about a minute later.

“There’s no way you got all of that teenage stink off of you in a sixty-second shower,” I chuckle.

“Delphie Mae Lewis. It’s been a while.”

The voice makes my blood freeze. Before I can turn, a hand grabs my hair and roughly yanks my head back—something cold presses against my throat.

“I was locked away, rotting in that prison, for a long fucking time because of you, cunt. I lost everything because your pussy got jealous that I didn’t want a repeat.”

My heart is in my throat, but I don’t dare move. I can already feel the knife in his hands shake with his anger.

“I’ve spent the better part of fifteen years thinking about ways to get my revenge, but now that the moment is here, I don’t want to take my time. I just want to watch you fucking bleed.”

“Don’t move.”

“God no,” I cry. “Eli, get out of here.”

I’m turned abruptly, and I see my son, completely naked, dripping water, and pointing a gun at his father’s head.

“Spitting image of your old man. I bet you act like me, too. Even hung like me. Lucky kid.”

“I’m nothing like you, asshole. Now, let her go before I shoot you.”

“You ain’t gonna shoot your own dad, kid,” Ryan laughs. My throat stings as he presses the knife deeper, breaking the skin. I can feel the warmth of the blood as it drips down my neck. His hand grips my hair tighter, and the blade slides across my throat.

“I don’t have a dad,” I hear my son say before he pulls the trigger.

“Ma,” he yells. “Hold on, Ma. The ambulance is on its way. Fuck, that’s a lot of blood.”

I’m having a hard time catching my breath as the room starts to dim. I feel pressure against my throat as glimpses of my son’s worried face fade in and out of view.

“I hear them, Ma. Stay with me. HERE. WE’RE IN HERE.”

***present day***

Reaching up, I touch the healing scar on my throat, the jagged line a permanent reminder of that night. Almost sixteen years ago, that same man, a principal at my high school, raped me, resulting in my pregnancy with Elijah when I was just over fourteen years old. Going against my parents’ wishes, I decided not to terminate the pregnancy.

Ultimately, Mr. Honiker…Ryan…was sentenced to fifteen years in prison and released six months early.

But even a sentence like that ends too soon.

Elijah knew about his father. I made sure of it. The details of his life, his face, even how he himself came to be. If I hadn’t, my son might have hesitated that night, and Ryan might have killed us both.

Even still, my heart breaks for my son. Even though Ryan was a bad person, taking someone’s life isn’t easy, even if it was the father that you hated. It’s changed my son in a way I can’t fully understand yet. He’s becoming increasingly protective of me, constantly hovering, trying to protect me from a world he doesn’t trust. I can feel his constant stress. I don’t know how to help him.

Sighing, I grab my keys. We can’t afford therapy, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help him heal. First, though, I need this job. I wasn’t lying when I told Eli that if I don’t get this job, we’re going to end up homeless.

I just hope Mr. Reynolds turns out to be a good man.