Chapter 17: A storm at home.
1313 Words
VANESSA
I burst into the house, panting like a hunted deer, my heart pounding in my chest. The moment I step inside, a wave of chaos slams into me. The living room is unrecognizable—like a tornado just had its way with it. The plasma TV lies shattered on the floor, glass glinting ominously under the dim lights. The chairs are scattered in disarray, some flipped over, others broken.
Panic grips me. My mind races back to the call from Harper while I was at Richard’s. Her voice had been trembling, barely a whisper as she told me what happened. Apparently, Mom had borrowed a massive sum of money—from a loan shark. And not just any loan shark—a ruthless mafioso, the kind of man who doesn’t ask twice before making people disappear.
What in God’s name was Mom thinking?
I spot Harper curled up on the couch, hugging her knees, her face twisted in terror as if she just watched a horror movie that felt too real.
I rush to her, wrapping my arms around her quivering frame. "It’s okay, Harper," I whisper, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"They said they would come back," she sobs, her voice barely above a breath.
"They won’t. I promise you." I gently wipe her tears away, forcing my voice to sound confident, though dread coils inside me like a snake ready to strike.
Harper nods slowly, but I see the fear flickering in her eyes, the kind that words alone can’t erase.
If only I had known this would happen today, I wouldn’t have stayed out so long. I wouldn’t have left Cassie in charge of picking up the kids.
The thought sends a fresh surge of fear through me.
"Where are the boys?" I ask, my voice tight. My stomach knots as my mind spirals into dark possibilities. Had they been taken?
"They're upstairs," Harper replies. Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived.
I sprint up the stairs, my heart hammering with each step. The moment I reach their bedroom, I fling the door open. Empty.
My breath catches in my throat.
"Colby? Collins?" I call out, my voice cracking. Silence.
Panic sinks its claws into me. My hands fly to my hair, gripping it in frustration.
Then—there’s a sound. A muffled whimper.
I freeze. "Colby? Collins? Where are you?"
A tiny, trembling voice answers, "Nessa?"
I follow the sound, my pulse racing. It’s coming from the wardrobe.
I rush over, yank the doors open—and there they are.
Colby and Collins are curled up inside, their small bodies squeezed into the tight space, knees pulled to their chests. Their wide, innocent eyes brim with fear.
My heart shatters.
"Oh, my sweet boys." I crouch down, gently pulling them into my arms. Their little arms latch onto my legs like lifelines.
Colby sniffles, his voice barely above a whisper. "Bad men came… they broke things."
"They’re gone now, baby," I murmur, stroking his hair. "I’ll take care of everything, okay?"
They nod hesitantly, still shaken.
I force a smile. "How about some cookies?"
Their eyes light up, the fear momentarily replaced with excitement. "Yes!" they chime in unison.
I take their hands and lead them downstairs. In the kitchen, I grab a saucer, piling it high with cookies. The boys grab their plates, happily munching away as if the world hadn’t just threatened to rip apart their sense of safety.
As they eat, I slip away to my bedroom and grab my phone. I dial Cassie’s number. It rings once. Twice.
"Come on, pick up," I mutter.
Finally, she answers.
"Hey, baby girl!" Cassie’s voice is as cheerful as ever, completely unaware of the storm I’m drowning in. "What’s up?"
I sink onto the bed, exhaling sharply. "I’m not fine, Cass."
Immediately, her tone shifts. "What happened?"
I spill everything, my words tumbling over each other. The break-in. The threats. The terror written all over my siblings’ faces.
Cassie listens in silence, then exhales. "Nessa, it’s time to tell Richard the truth."
I groan, rubbing my temples. "Not this again."
"I’m serious," she insists. "He could help you move, get out of that death trap of a neighborhood before something worse happens."
I scoff. "You think I should just go running to Richard for help?"
Cassie sighs, and I can almost see her rolling her eyes. "Yes, Vanessa! You need to come clean before it’s too late. You can’t handle this alone."
I bite my lip, my stomach twisting.
"Alright," I mumble. "I’ll tell him. But… not yet."
Cassie huffs. "Don’t wait too long."
She hangs up, and I drop my phone onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of everything crashes down on me like a collapsing building.
I’m already drowning in Dave’s threats to expose me, and now this? Mom’s debts catching up with us in the worst possible way?
What kind of life is this?
A deep exhaustion washes over me. I have an interview tomorrow but first—I need to get my family out of here. Those thugs will come back. That much is certain. And this neighborhood? It was never safe to begin with.
Who knows what other reckless mistakes Mom made before she passed away?
One thing is clear—if I don’t act fast, we’re all in danger.
And I refuse to let that happen.
I walk back downstairs and savage what I can.Putting the house back in order with Harper's assistance. I'm all sweaty and tired I head back to my bedroom.My body craves a cold bath. But I'm too tired to hit the bathroom. I take the twins to their. I tug them in bed.
Harper is still terrified. Too terried to sleep in her room. She follows me to my room. Her hands wraps around me tight as we fall asleep.
****
My alarm clock jolts me out of my slumber land. I jump out of bed remembering I've got a job interview in the next one hour. Hurriedly I run into the bathroom . Turning on the shower.The cold water crashes over me, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I stay under the shower, my hands pressed against the tiles, my breath shaky. I want to wash it all away—the fear, the helplessness, the feeling that no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my family safe.
But some things don’t rinse off.
After a few more moments, I turn off the tap, dry myself quickly, and slip into a fitted blouse and skirt. I smooth my hands over the fabric, taking one last glance in the mirror. I look… fine. Normal. Like someone who isn’t drowning in problems.
Fake it till you make it, right?
I grab my bag and head out
---
The store is huge. Sleek, modern, and bustling with employees who all look like they have their lives together. I don’t belong here. Not really.
The interview is quick. The manager, a no-nonsense woman with sharp eyes, asks me a few questions. My hands are clasped tightly in my lap the whole time.
“You start on Monday,” she says, sliding a contract toward me.
I blink. “I… I got the job?”
She nods. “Welcome aboard.”
Relief floods through me so fast I almost forget how to breathe.
I have a job. A real job. A chance to finally make things better.
By the time I step into my house, I’m smiling for the first time in days.
Then my phone rings. Richard.
I hesitate before answering.
“Hey, you,” his deep voice wraps around me like a familiar warmth.
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Hey, Richard.”
“I want to see you. Dinner tonight?”
My heart skip. Did Dave finally expose me?
- Writer
