Page 6 of Cole

“My mom,” the boy mumbled, anxious to grab his board and return to the shelter. He didn’t like strangers, especially this one; the way he stared at the boy made his skin crawl. “I-I got to get back.” He backed away, abandoning the board.

“What about your skateboard?”

The boy shrugged and ducked his head.

“You don’t want to leave it in the street.” The man smiled. “Hang on, I’ll grab it for you. It’s the least I can do after knocking you down.”

The kid shifted nervously as the man trotted into the street and picked up the board. Maybe he was just a nice guy. The boy didn’t trust anyone and expected the worst from every stranger he met. Surely not everyone was bad, and he really didn’t want to give up the skateboard.

“Here you go,” the man puffed as he jogged back into the alley and handed over the board.

“Thanks…” the boy whispered.

“You know, you really should get your head checked after cracking it so hard.”

Shaking his head, the kid mumbled, “I’m all right.”

“If you can’t afford the ER, I’ll foot the bill since it was my fault.” The man stepped closer. “I can give you a ride. My rig is right around the corner.”

The boy knewneverto get into a car with a stranger. “Thanks, but I-I’m okay… really.” He moved away from the man toward the mouth of the alley.

“If you’re worried about your mom not knowing where you are, I can call the shelter from the hospital.”

The man’s relentless approach put the boy on edge. “No… I-I gotta go…” As he started to leave, he half-expected the man to grab him. With every step, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. A glance over his shoulder eased his mind; the man wasn’t pursuing him. Exhaling a shaky breath, the boy hurried his pace as the mouth of the alley loomed ahead. The shelter's entrance was just around the corner.

As the boy approached the street, a black van pulled into the alley and halted. He slowed his pace, watching the van cautiously while shifting to the side of the alley. Unable to see inside, he sensed someone's gaze from the driver's seat. His heart raced, making it difficult to breathe. Turning back, he noticed the man strolling towards him at an easy pace, which somehow felt more unsettling than if he had been rushing.

Everystranger dangersynapse in his brain popped like fireworks, and panic set in. He was afraid to run, fearing it would trigger the man and whoever was in the van, like prey fleeing from a predator.

The boy took deep, fearful breaths.Just keep walking… don’t act scared… just keep walking.

His grip on the skateboard tightened as he prepared to use it as a weapon. He kept his eyes fixed on the windshield of the van as he approached the vehicle from the passenger side, pressing close to the brick wall of the building on his left. His heart beat like a drum in his ears, pounding harder and louder as he slowly walked past the van. His gaze shifted to the side door, expecting it to burst open and someone to drag him inside.

Despite the chill coursing through his body, sweat beaded on his brow and dampened his palm as he gripped the skateboard with foreboding, ready to use it as a weapon. He held his breath while passing by the van, releasing a hard exhale only after he moved beyond the vehicle, its presence looming ominously behind him.

You’re safe. They’re not trying to kidnap—

He didn’t notice the rear door creak open; he only felt a sudden grip from behind when someone grabbed him. His skateboard was yanked from his hand, slamming hard against the pavement. Panic erupted inside him as a rag was thrust against his mouth and nose. Before he lost consciousness, he caught a glimpse of his skateboard lying upside down, wheels still spinning—the last trace of his childhood fading away into darkness.

Cold air crept through the gaps in the shelter's walls as the Hispanic woman moved, her breath appearing in soft puffs against the frigid morning. The distant rumble of traffic was softened by the lightweight blankets they used to protect against the chill. A gentle murmur of voices filled the space, the subdued discussions of the other occupants gradually diminishing as she struggled to awaken from a deep, fatigued slumber.

Her eyes fluttered open, and a wave of unease washed over her. The room was still, too still. Her son—her only child—wasn't next to her. She blinked, her heart skipping a beat.

Her fingers trembled as they glided over the thin mattress beside her. Empty. The space he’d slept in felt cold, frozen, as if he hadn’t been there.

The reality hit her all at once, a cold fist to the stomach. She shot up from the bed, her legs unsteady as she stumbled to the edge of the room, scanning the small shelter. The cramped space was dim, the bare light bulb flickering in the corner, casting harsh shadows across the worn, cracked walls. She didn’t see him; not among the others who were still sleeping, nor in the corner where they had huddled together for warmth the night before.

No. No, no, no.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Panic twisted her insides as her breath quickened, her mouth dry. Her head swam with fear.Where is he?

She forced herself to breathe, trying to steady her racing thoughts. He couldn’t have just gone. Hewouldn’t. He had to have stayed close. He promised. He always promised he wouldn’t wander off.

She stumbled into the hallway, her voice rising in desperation as she called out to her son.

No response.

Frantically, she turned to the shelter worker, a young woman behind the counter who was half-dressed in a bulky winter coat, sipping coffee from a chipped mug. The mother’s voice cracked as she asked, “Mi hijo? He’s... he’s not here.”

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