From his voice alone, I’m guessing the little boy is about five years old. I don’t want to use him, but I don’t have a choice. He is my key out of here.
I wait and listen, and when I hear him outside my door, bouncing a ball in the hallway, I strike.
“Hello!” I call out, almost crying in relief when the ball stops bouncing. “What’s your name?”
Frantically twisting my body, I maneuver myself so I’ll be able to see any movement from under the door. When I see his shadow walking toward the door, I quickly continue.
“If you come in, I can play ball with you. Would you like that?”
Silence.
His shadow is still outside the door, however.
“My name is Camilla.”
“My mummy says I can’t talk to strangers,” he softly says.
“I’m not a stranger,” I assure him calmly. “I know your name is Shay. Would a stranger know that?”
My eyes strain in the darkness, but the hallway light is all the light I need because it allows me to see Shay’s shadow remains outside my door.
“Naw, I don’t think they would,” he replies, a little louder this time.
“Good boy,” I say, the first smile I’ve smiled in days spreading across my cheeks. “Can you open the door for me?”
The handle rattles, but I know that it’s locked.
“Your mommy has the key. Can you see it anywhere?” My desperation almost chokes me because I know I’m running out of time.
Shay’s mom, wherever she is, will be back any moment.
“Shay?”
When I hear his little footsteps pound down the hallway, growing softer and softer, I tug at my restraints, crying out in anger. “Fuck!”
Arching my neck, I confirm these cuffs aren’t budging by my raw red wrists. I’ve tried for days. Unless someone frees me, I’ll be left here to rot. It’s useless.
However, when I hear the lock click over and a sliver of light peek in from the open door, hope returns, and it returns thanks to a little boy whose curiosity will help me survive this. He cautiously enters, ensuring he keeps his distance. I can’t see him because my room is almost pitch-black. The hallway is all the light I have.
“Hi, Shay,” I say calmly, trying my best to conceal the cuffs, but he’s seen them. “Please don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
“Why are ye tied up?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “Do you think you can help untie me? I need a key to fit into this lock. It’ll be a little silver one. Your mommy has the key.”
She has uncuffed me to shower and use the bathroom, but that stopped a couple of days ago when I smashed a lamp over her head and made a run for the front door. It was locked, and she had the key. My punishment is the darkness I now reside in and soiling myself where I lay.
“I didn’t see a little key, but A’ll go look again,” he says, wringing his hands out in front of him.
“Thank you, Shay. You’re such a good boy.”
“Did ya upset Mummy?”
“No, I didn’t. I think someone is making your mommy do this. Maybe your daddy?”
“I don’t have a daddy,” he says, stepping closer.
The hallway light allows me to see his face a little clearer, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“What’s your mommy’s name?”
Shay continues walking closer, and when he’s a few feet away, I gasp. His eyes—I’ve looked into them before.
“My mummy is—”
“Shay? Where are ye, my wee sweetie?”
His blue eyes widen, and he quickly runs from the room.
“Shay!” I cry, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I’ll look for the little key. I promise ya.” He closes the door and locks it, trapping me in the darkness once more.
However, now, when I close my eyes, the darkness isn’t the only thing that will haunt my dreams. Shay’s familiar eyes will too.
Who the fuck is he? And why does he look like Punky?
I barely slept last night as I tried to recall every time Aoife and I had sex. I counted eight, maybe nine times. Some memories are fuzzier than others because when I was sent to the sickbay, it was because I was either concussed or bleeding on the cusp of passing out.
I never wanted any painkillers, but sometimes, I needed them to help shut out the pain. They’ve always messed with my head which is why I hate taking them. I now wonder if maybe one of those times when I was fucked up, I did something stupid—like getting Aoife pregnant.
“I’m not judgin’, but how did ye get away with it?” Cian asks, sipping his coffee.
I, on the other hand, am on my third whiskey.
“Riverbend House wasn’t yer average prison, Cian. There were no rules. But there’s no way that could be my chile.”
Cian doesn’t look so convinced. “If ya rode her, and rode her numerous times, then it’s very possible. It doesn’t matter how careful ya thought ye were. Accidents happen.”
He’s right.
“I just don’t understand why Sean was givin’ her money?”
“Could he be the dad?” Cian asks, half-serious, but we soon both realize that isn’t so far-fetched. “Getawaytafuck.”
“Anythin’ is possible,” I state, throwing back my drink. “Until I speak with Aoife, then we’re merely guessin’.”
This would be the time I’d call on Rory to work his computer magic. But I’m on my own on this one.
“No one who knows me, no one associated with me can approach her. I need a total stranger to pass a message on to her. I don’t want to send a letter or leave a note. It’s too risky.”
“Ach, yer right. But who?”
“Someone who knew her from work will look less suspicious, but I don’t—” I never finish that sentence because I think I’ve figured out who.
Reaching for my phone off the bench, I do a quick search online for Officer Scott Grenham. He doesn’t owe me a thing, but I need to try. He was the only officer who actually gave a fuck.
“Hello?” he answers on the third ring.
“Hi, um, I don’t know if ye remember me, but it’s Puck, Puck Kelly.”
“Puck Kelly,” he says in surprise. “What’s the craic?”
“I’m sorry to phone ya out of the blue, but I was wonderin’ if I could ask for a favor?”
“That depends on what it is,” he replies lightly.
“Remember Nurse Aoife?”
“Aye, I remember.”
“Well, she and you were the only people who gave a fuck about me when I was locked up. Youse were the only ones who treated me like a human being. I wanted to reach out to her, but I didn’t want it to be…weird. Do ya think ya could pass a message on from me?”
“Of course, Puck. I can do that.” He almost sounds relieved.
“Could ya tell her to meet me tomorrow? For a coffee?”
“No bother. Just tell me the time and address, and I’ll pass on the message.”
I can hear him writing down the details as I recite the address. “I know this is silly, but do ya think ya could give this message to her in person?”