Babysitting the Devil's Son

05 VALERIE

I woke up feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on me. I couldn’t even remember actually falling asleep, just lying there with my eyes wide open, replaying yesterday’s events over and over in my mind. Saturdays usually gave me something to look forward to, the hustle and bustle at the bar kept my mind occupied. But today, everything felt different and heavier. The absence of my mother, who I had buried just the day before, felt like a gaping hole in my heart.

I had turned off my cell phone last night, shutting myself off from the world. The thought of receiving any messages or calls, especially from Edison, was unbearable. The only person I responded to was Venus, my best friend. She had offered to stay over, but I needed to be alone with my grief. Venus understood, as she always did, and left me to my solitude.

As the morning light filtered through my window, I forced myself out of bed. I had to go to work. Gibson, my boss at the bar, wasn’t exactly known for his sympathy. He wouldn’t hesitate to fire me, even knowing what I’d been through. I couldn’t afford to lose my job now, not with everything else falling apart.

I brewed a pot of coffee, hoping it would jolt me awake. As I sat at the table, staring into my cup, the door to my house creaked open. My heart skipped a beat. No one ever came in like this, especially not at this hour.

“Edison?” I called out, my voice shaky. He stood in the doorway, looking disheveled despite having showered. He had a suitcase with him, an unusual sight that made my stomach churn with unease.

“You’re alone. I’m alone. Why should we be alone when we’ve been together for so long?” he said, his voice slurred. He always said ‘so long,’ never quite remembering how long it had really been.

“I don’t want to live with you, Edison. Yesterday, I needed you. I needed you to hold me, to be with me on one of the worst days of my life, and you weren’t there. You just dragged me to that stupid dance and left me alone,” my voice cracked with emotion. I couldn’t hold back the anger and hurt any longer.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you needed space,” he mumbled, looking genuinely confused.

“Always with an excuse,” I spat, getting up and grabbing my sneakers from the edge of the sofa. “I’m going to work. When I get back, I don’t want you here. We’re just dating, Edison. We’re not married.” I grabbed my bag and cell phone, my hands shaking.

“We’re lovers, Valerie. Today and always. Do you think I’m going to let go of what’s mine?” His eyes darkened, and before I could react, he slapped me across the face. Shock overtook me that I wasn’t able to react right away.

“See what you make me do?” he said, his voice almost soft now. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

I held my cheek, feeling the sting of his hand. “When I get back, I don’t want you here,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time. I turned and left the house, not giving him a chance to respond.

Tears filled my eyes as I walked up the Heights. It was a 20-minute trek to the central bar, a journey I made every day. But today, the weight of my grief and the shock of Edison’s violence made every step feel like a mile. I felt raw and exposed, my emotional and physical strength sapped by the events of the last 24 hours.

When I arrived at the bar, Gibson was already there. He looked at me and shook his head disapprovingly. I checked my cell phone; I wasn’t late. In fact, I was ten minutes early.

“Good morning, Mr. Gibson,” I greeted him, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I don’t know what’s good about it, Valerie,” he replied gruffly. He was always curt, but today, his tone was harsher than usual.

“For me, there is nothing good about it, Mr. Gibson. I buried my mother yesterday, didn’t sleep all night, and still came to work. I don’t deserve this rudeness,” I said, my voice breaking. I fought back tears, trying to hold on to my composure.

“Watch how you talk to me and get to work,” he snapped, turning away. I headed to the kitchen, where the cooks were already busy. Sybil, Gibson’s wife, was there too, as unpleasAnthony as her husband.

I started my tasks, but soon, Sybil began ordering me to clean the floors and cupboards. Tasks that weren’t part of my job.

“Did my duties change, Mrs. Sybil? Because I wasn’t informed,” I asked, trying to keep my tone polite.

“What’s going on here?” Gibson barked, entering the kitchen.

“I want to know if my duties have changed. I wasn’t notified,” I repeated, my frustration mounting.

“Do you have a problem with that, Valerie?” Gibson’s tone was menacing. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. You’re fired.”

“What? Are you firing me for nothing?” I was incredulous.

“I’m firing you for yesterday’s absence and your attitude today,” Gibson said coldly.

“May God see what you’re doing and make you pay for your arrogance,” I said, taking off my apron. The other cooks looked on in shock, while Sybil smirked.

“Come get your things tomorrow. I’ll deduct yesterday and today from your pay,” Gibson added as I left the kitchen, feeling defeated.

I walked back down the Heights, tears streaming down my face. The path was a blur through my tears, my heart heavy with grief and anger. Losing my mother was a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal, and now I was jobless, with no support.

When I reached my house, I heard music blaring from inside. My heart sank. Edison was still there. I walked in to find him sprawled on the sofa, half-dressed, with his legs up on the backrest.

“I told you to leave,” I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

“And I thought you only got off work at six,” he replied nonchalantly.

I walked into the kitchen and saw the mess he had made. Plates were piled in the sink, and the counters were cluttered.

“What do you think, Edison? That I’m going to accept you here and your friends?” I snapped, my patience wearing thin.

“Watch how you talk to me,” he said, moving toward me. He grabbed my face roughly. “I’m staying here, and that’s the end of it. I’m your boyfriend, and you’re alone. This is where I belong.”

I pushed his hand away. “I want you out of my house now. And if you touch me again, I’ll go to the police,” I threatened, but my words barely left my lips before he pulled out a knife and pressed it to my throat.

“Threaten me again, and I’ll cut you,” he hissed. “I’m staying here, and that’s final. Understand? Now, why are you home so early?” he asked, his breath hot against my face.

“I was fired,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Fear gripped me, making my knees weak.

“Are you so worthless that you can’t keep a job as a kitchen assistant?” he sneered.

I felt a surge of anger. “And how does that affect you, Edison? My job supports me, and only me.”

Edison laughed coldly. “It affects us, Valerie. Us. I’ve put up with you for two years because you’re beautiful and hot. I’m not letting go of you. You’re mine.”

I felt trapped, my mind racing. I had never seen this side of Edison before. He had always been controlling, but this was a new level of cruelty and possessiveness.

“You are going to leave here now and look for a job. Don’t come back without one. Understood?” His eyes bore into mine, and I felt cornered, afraid, vulnerable, more alone than ever. Desperate to avoid another beating, I headed to the living room, my heart pounding in my chest as I heard him say,

“If you open your mouth to anyone about what I did, I’ll kill your little friend.” His words hung in the air, and my legs wobbled beneath me.

I can’t believe this is happening to me.