Page 11 of Do It For Me
I can do this… Any second.
I take another deep breath, hold it, and step forward. The girls don’t even notice me; they’re too busy giggling over their game. I glance back, but Dante’s nowhere in sight. I guess I’ll find him when I get the wa—
I bump into someone. As I turn around, a bearded giant is scowling at me.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry, I—”
The man’s expression softens into a smile as he steps back. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention either,” he says before walking away.
He. Leaves.
Relief floods through me, accompanied by a wave of pride.
Icando this.
I keep walking and reach the vending machine. I slide the bills into the slot, enter the code for the water, and watch with a small smile as the bottles drop.
This is the most freedom I’ve had since I got out ofthere. Before, I was always surrounded by guards, and the only time I had the courage—and permission—to go alone, they took me. Afterward, I wasn’t allowed to set foot on the front street—nor did I want to. The only places I ever went after the incident were hospital visits and the events my father forced me to attend, always with someone beside me who did the talking for me.
Here, I’m just another person. No one knows me. Onlyoneman wants to marry me. There’s no one lurking, waiting for me to be distracted so they can put me into a van and take me again, or a man—who should be taking care of me and loving me—reaching for my bottom at every chance he gets.
I’m safe.
“Ma!”
The little voice startles me, as does the gentle tug on my shirt. I look down and find a boy staring up at me, his wide eyes mirroring my own surprise.
“I-I’m not your mum.”
His cheeks flush, his lips quiver, and he presses his small hands over his face.
Oh no. No, no, no.
I kneel in front of him and gently grasp his shoulders.
“It’s okay. Are you lost?”
The boy sobs and nods. I glance in the direction where Dante should be, but he’s nowhere in sight. I thought he could help—
No.Ican help him.Ican do this!
“I’ll help you find her. Does she have red hair like me?”
He nods again.
I crouch to grab the bottles and hold them out in front of us. “Would you hold one for me?”
He sniffs; his little brown eyes full of fear as they meet mine. His tear-streaked face and tousled hair make my chest tighten. Slowly, he pulls his hands away from his face and takes one of the bottles with his tiny hand.
As I stand, holding the other bottle, I ask, “What’s your name?”
“Finn,” he replies softly.
“That’s a beautiful name.”
A small smile spreads across his face, his round cheeks puffing up. He’s adorable.
