The Rat Race Begins

ISABELLA GARCIA

“You’re back!” Cleo opened the door and pulled me into a hug. “And that did not look like an uber,” she announced with glee.

My face was buied in her hair and I pulled away desperately.

I was worried about Ethan, my son. I had to see him.

Cleo frowned in confusion when I pulled her away.

She called for me.

“Isa?” Cleo asked while following me.

I was looking everywhere for him. The drawers, between the sofas, and under the center table. The only thing replaying in my mind was the driver’s last words to me before I got down.

“Mr. Enzo said to remind you to stay calm so you don’t make a mistake.”

I could barely see his eyes from the rearview mirror. He had on a facecap too, but I knew that he was threatening me.

Enzo was coming for us and I had to move fast.

“Where is Ethan?” I asked, turning away from my fruitless search.

There were other rooms in the house and though I was yet to get there, my chest was tightening already.

My world was either crumbling or about to crumble.

Cleo looked around for answers. Her confusion for my weird behavior grew. “Why are you–”

I wasn't patient enough to let her finish.

A thousand thoughts were running through my mind and none was pretty.

“Where is Ethan, Cleo?!”

Cleo stepped back in fear. Her brows drew together, shock splashing across her features.

She visibly struggled to find her words.

“He is…he–” She pointed in the direction of the rooms.

“Mummy, is that you?” Ethan stole our attention.

I rushed over to him. I felt instant relief, but only for a minute.

Cleo remained frozen while I fell to my knees in front of my son.

Ethan rubbed his eyes but when he looked at me, he still looked sleepy.

There was no time. I reminded myself I had to move fast.

I squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “Baby, do you want to go for an adventure?”

“What kind of adventure?” Ethan asked.

I ruffled his hair. He had a shade of hair that sat between my brown and his dad’s blonde.

His golden brown hair was short. I kept it in a classic side part, neat just the way he had to be.

“Mummy doesn't know yet but you’ll need to pack a bag.”

“Pack a bag?” Cleo moved from where she had been standing. “Isa, what in the world is going on?”

I ignored her towering over me. I focused on Ethan, getting up so we could start moving already.

Ethan had always been a special child because of his illness. His body has always been unable to fight germs. He lacked a proper functioning immune system.

No one had believed we would leave the hospital after he was born but he survived. Seven years later, he was still alive. I wasn't about to let Enzo take my child away from me.

I had to keep my family safe.

I kept my hands on his shoulder, leading him to his room. We passed Cleo and her eyes asked a thousand questions.

“You too, pack a bag. We have to move and quick.” I told Cleo just as we passed her.

She shook her head, rearranging her thoughts.

Cleo followed us. “That doesn't even make sense,” she said, demanding another answer.

“Cleo, just trust me. Please.”

We got into Ethan’s room and I grabbed the closest bag and threw his closet open.

Everything and anything I could grab, I did.

Ethan climbed the bed. He rocked his dangling legs as he watched me.

He was always tired. I had to be strong for us both.

I didn't realize Cleo had gone until I heard the front door open.

I immediately stopped shoving the clothes in.

“Stay here,” I told Ethan.

I dropped a quick kiss on his cheek and rushed out.

I held the walls, eyes darting to every corner of the house. What if Enzo was here?

I was scared for Cleo, I was scared for everything. Bile rose at the back of my throat and my stomach rolled into a ball.

Cleo stood by the door, laughing.

Seeing her in such a happy mood when I could barely hold my shit together sent me over the edge.

I was worried sick but now I was also mad.

And who the hell was at the door?!

I made a break for the kitchen. In frenzy, I looked around for the best weapon. The knife felt too small and the kettle was not good enough.

I went for the rolling board. Swallowing, I struggled to catch my breath.

My skin was soaked with sweat. I shut my eyes tight and pushed down on the tears.

This was not the time to cry.

So I did what needed to be done. I walked back to the living room.

“Cleo, who’s that?” I asked.

I wrapped my fingers around my weapon and held it up. Cleo quizzed me with her eyes.

“Sis, you’re acting weird.” She proceeded to open the door further for whoever it was.

She moved so fast that I couldn't stop her.

I still tried to.

“CLEO NO!” I screamed in fear, running.

“It’s Ethan’s home teacher.” Cleo said but my voice overshadowed hers.

And now I had two pairs of eyes watching me like I was crazy.

She and Ethan’s teacher.

Maybe I was crazy.

But we were still safe. Enzo wasn't here yet and we had to hurry. There was no time to be fucking embarrassed.

I threw the rolling board away. I didn't care for the sound it made.

I paced to the door. “Can we reschedule?” I asked the teacher.

She blinked countless times. “Umm, fine…I guess. When–”

“We’ll get back to you. Thank you.” I shut the door in her face.

Turning to Cleo, I was ready to unleash my anger on her.

She beat me to it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cleo shrieked. “You went on a date, probably had a great time and all you've done is put us in panic for no reason.”

I shook my head discovering silently that I didn't have the strength to argue.

We also didn't have time for that.

“I can't tell you everything now but we are in danger,” I said and locked the front door.

I double checked to be sure it was properly locked.

“Are you losing your mind,” Cleo asked me.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I did something, a bad thing and some people are not happy with me. We have to move, Cleo.”

“And your date? You were dropped off by some driver. Aren't you going to tell me about that?” Cleo motioned for the window as she spoke.

She had watched from there when the car stopped.

I held my head in my hands and walked away, brushing my shoulders by hers. “You are focusing on the wrong things.”

“Maybe you are focusing on the wrong things.” Cleo raced after me and blocked my path. “If he had someone drop you off then he's probably powerful and wealthy. Why don’t you just tell him some imaginary people are after you.” Cleo pushed her brows up playfully.

She was teasing me. Did she think I was joking?

Did I not look serious enough? Worried enough? Crazed even.

I opened my mouth to talk and nothing came out.

I sighed in exasperation and walked around her. “If you want to stay here,” I said, walking away, “then do that but I'm not letting my son get hurt.”

Cleo ran after me again. She stopped by the door of our bedroom, softly panting.

She pushed her hair aside as I pulled out a box from the top drawer.

I grabbed a handful of clothes and shoved them in.

“If you want me to believe you,” Cleo started, “you have to tell me who you pissed off.”

I glanced up at Cleo. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel Enzo’s lips on mine, his hands squeezing my waist.

I thought of him being soft with me. And then I remembered the kick to his guts.

The resounding gunshot.

The dark emptiness of Enzo’s eyes.

And the goosebumps scattered across my skin.

I swallowed but I knew my voice would still be shaky when I spoke.

“The less you know, the better it will be.”

Cleo wrapped her hands around her self, stepping forward. “Oh my God.”

Cleo’s eyes mirrored the fear in mine.

I thought that would make me feel better but it didn't.

It felt like my heart was dragging across glass. Now my fear was even more valid.