Page 4 of Twisted Vows

Not, are you hurt? Not, I’m sorry.

Just, did he find the papers?

A bitter taste fills my mouth as I manage a nod.

“Son of a bitch!” My dad kicks the asphalt.

Mama rounds on him. “You gave them to her? You let her walk into this blind?”

“I didn’t know he’d show up!” His voice cracks as he turns away. “I thought we’d make it to Jersey before anyone caught wind.”

“They hunted you down like bloodhounds.” She jabs a finger at his chest. “And you tied your own daughter to the meat hook.”

Something cold settles in my chest. He used me. His own daughter. He didn’t even think to warn me.

As they shout at each other, their voices loud and furious with accusations, their old fights come back to life like zombies rising from graves.

I can’t parse their words. It’s just noise filling my head as I stand here, my clothes still on the asphalt, my heart racing. Oddly, I’m not feeling scared or violated. More like…abandoned.

Leaving my parents to their argument, I yank my clothes back on with quivering hands. The fabric feels strange on my skin as I crawl into the back seat of Dad’s car while they continue to rip into each other outside.

And then Mama drops to the ground.

“Mama?” I shout, bolting out of the car.

She’s sprawled on the road, her eyes rolling back in her head. Dad grabs her and shakes her. “Elena. Stay with me.”

“Mama!” I fall to the ground beside her, my palms searching her chest. Her skin is damp and pale. Her breathing is too fast, too shallow.

“Help me lift her!” Dad growls. Together, we wrestle her into the back seat. After I hop in on the other side of her, he floors it, the tires shrieking as the car lunges forward.

I can barely see or think as the world outside smears. The trees on the long road merge into color and noise, and Mama’s moaning fills the car.

Dad doesn’t slow down until we’re zooming into the ER’s parking lot. Medics hurry out to extract Mama from my hands. My throat’s raw as I wipe her hair off her face and attempt to comfort her with false words of hope before they wheel her off.

Silence returns, and his face reappears, a rough mix of light and shadows.

What are you thinking about?

His question continues circling, long after he’s gone, and I still have no answer I’m willing to voice aloud.

Chapter 1

Sophia

Teaching kindergarten at Little Scholars always proves chaotic.

The scent of Crayola hangs in the air like perfume crafted by the glitter gods. Tiny fingers grip fistfuls of yellow and green, smudging the colors across construction paper with the grace of caffeinated raccoons. Someone’s chewing on a red crayon again. Max, per usual.

Around me, the class erupts with sugar-fueled kids. Maya, with her pigtails bouncing, bellows, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” at the top of her lungs while spinning in circles near the reading corner. Her voice cracks on the high notes.

I step toward the Lego station where three boys have formed a tower taller than their heads. Tommy’s gap-toothed grin stretches wide as he balances another red block on top. “Miss Martinelli, look!”

Before I can respond, Aisha sneezes near the craft table. Glitter explodes into the air, catching the light like tiny stars before settling on her dark braids, her cheeks, the floor. She giggles, her nose scrunched.

“You shouldn’t play near the table, Aisha!”

Gravitating toward the milk-teethed monster, I stop mid-stride. My eyes just caught a blur against the late afternoon sun. I blink, and on a second glance, find the sidewalk outside empty. The maple tree sways like always…nothing unusual there.