Page 3 of Burdens
Taking my mother’s hand would solidify that my father had sent someone to kill me, his own flesh and blood. The truth would leave scars lingering on my soul, a brutal stain I’d never be able to rid myself of.
But that pain seemed like the lesser evil at the moment, so I finally grabbed my mom’s hand with my free one.
She breathed out a sigh of relief and pulled me toward her, briefly wrapping her arms around my back. Then she helped me down my bed and headed for my bedroom door, grabbing one of my light jackets from behind my room’s door.
She draped it over my shoulders and turned around to step out of my bedroom. That’s when I noticed she had a backpack strapped on her back.
“Where are we going?” I asked her as I hurriedly slid on my slippers before following her down the corridor, where a large oil painting of my father was hanging on display near the end of the hall.
“Tan lejos de este agujero infernal como podamos?2,” she replied, and I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. My mother never cursed in front of me.
“That’s a bad word, Mama.”
She turned around and gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “It’s not if I’m telling the truth.”
Only my mother could find a way to make me smile after I’d nearly been murdered.
We finally made it to the painting, and I looked up at my father’s replica. He and I never had a good relationship to begin with, but he was still my father. And I’d thought I was still his son despite my shortcomings he always loved to remind me of.
Guess being his own flesh and blood wasn’t enough to avoid being executed.
My mother pushed on the painting and ushered me in the secret corridor that lay behind. She glanced around, most likely making sure my father’s henchmen weren’t around, but no one was in sight. Which didn’t surprise me since he probably ordered them to be on the other side of the property because he was planning to have me killed.
He wouldn’t want them to know he was behind the murder of his own heir.
After making sure no one was following us, she finally stepped into the dimly lit space and closed the concealed door behind her. She guided me through a winding maze of halls and tunnels until we reached a dead end.
My brows furrowed.How are we getting out?
Although I knew about the hidden passages in our house, I wasn’t allowed to venture into them. As per my father, my incompetence would get me lost and he didn’t want to waste his resources on finding me.
I got the answer to my unspoken question when my mother moved her hand above my head and pushed against the concrete wall.
A gust of wind washed over us, rattling my bones as we stepped outside.It was usually extremely hot here in the summer, but the temperature drastically dropped at night. I shivered despite the coat I was wearing, so I grabbed one side with my free hand, tucking it closer to my chest.
My eyes roamed to determine where we’d landed and realized we were toward the far left end of our courtyard.
My mother peeked over the central fountain and over to the closed glass door that joined the living room inside and the outside. When satisfied with whatever she was looking for, she said, “Come on, baby. This way.”
She then fastened her hand tightly in mine and walked us slowly, our backs pressed against the vine-covered high walls, the lush plants and trees decorating the majority of the yard concealing us.
She paused in her steps and crouched down, reaching for leaves and pushing them aside to reveal a hole big enough to fit a person in the wall. She swiftly climbed through it and gestured for me to do the same.
I tightened my hold on my neck and grabbed the edge with my free hand to help me through the concrete wall. My body was halfway through the hole when the sound of a thud echoed in the air.
My mother placed a finger on her lips and mouthed, “Stay still.”
After a few moments of silence, she helped me get through the rest of the way. Once we were both on the other side, her eyes flitted to where my hand was still holding the piece of her shirt over my neck before locking her gaze with mine. Her handthat wasn’t holding mine came to cradle my right cheek, her thumb brushing over my cheekbone.
“I know this is a lot, but I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
I nodded because Ididtrust her unconditionally. My mother had always tried to protect me against my father’s temper and even though she wasn’t always successful despite her hardest efforts, I would follow her anywhere.
“We don’t have much time, so we’ll need to walk faster,” she softly commanded, letting go of my hand.
She reached for the side pocket of her cargo pants and pulled out a phone. She pressed a few keys before putting it to her ear. As she waited for whoever was on the other end to answer, she grabbed my hand again and walked us down the sandy pathway behind the mansion.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the person on the other end finally answered. “We’re two minutes out and Noah’s injured. The cameras are playing on a loop, but it won’t be long before someone catches on.” She glanced behind us as we made our way down the path before her gaze swiftly roamed over me from head to toe as if she were looking for any other injury. “So you better fucking hurry.”
