36. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Eden
J olted awake by the relentless buzzing of my phone, I glance over at Roman, who sleeps peacefully beside me. It seems all he needs for a good night’s rest is to exhaust every ounce of energy, leaving me sore and walking funny for days.
Wincing at the soreness, I carefully climb out of bed, pulling on a pair of Roman’s sweats and a tee. I grab my phone and quietly slip into the living room, closing the door as gently as possible.
The contact on the screen makes my heart race: “Mom?”
It’s 3 a.m. Why would she be calling at this hour?
Maybe I shouldn’t answer. Maybe—
“Hello?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice low for Roman’s sake.
“Eden?” My mom’s voice is scratchy and raw, a clear sign she’s been crying.
“Yeah, Mom. How did you get this number—”
“Eden, baby, listen carefully,” She interrupts, her tone urgent .
She hasn’t called me “baby” since I was a child.
“I need you and your brother to get out of Idlewood. Take Roman and Zoey with you. Do whatever you need to leave this town. But please, don’t stay here—”
“Mom, what’s happening? Are you okay?”
“I messed up, Eden,” she sobs. “I messed up by staying in this marriage. I messed up by letting him hurt you kids. There’s no way to undo what’s happened, but I can try to make things right now—”
“Mom, what did he do?” I press, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“Eden, there’s no time to explain everything. You and your brother need to leave town tonight,” She cries. “And stay as far away as you can—”
“Who the hell are you talking to?!” My dad’s voice erupts, cutting my mom off abruptly.
“I do love you and your brother, Eden,” my mom’s voice trembles through the phone. “I’m sorry I never said it when it mattered.”
Suddenly, there’s a loud noise, as if the phone was dropped and shoved under something heavy. My mom’s sobs are now distant, muffled by the weight of whatever has been placed over the receiver.
“Who the hell were you talking to?” My dad’s voice growls with increasing anger.
She shoved me under the couch.
“N-No one, David—”
The sound of a slap makes my body flinch. My mom’s cries pierce through the line, raw and desperate .
Tears stream down my face, hot and blinding, as I tremble in fear.
“You fucking lying bitch,” My dad hisses. “Where the hell is it? Where is the phone?”
“You aren’t going to keep harming our kids, David!” My mom’s voice rises, defiant despite the fear. “Look at what this church has done to you. Look at what it did to us. You want to preach about sin? Well, guess what, I’m looking the Devil in the face now, and it’s fucking vile—”
“Shut your goddamn mouth!” He roars, his anger making her scream cut sharply through the line.
The sound of thudding and gasps for breath fills the call, my mom struggling to breathe.
“H-Help—”
“You hear that, you fucking sneaky bastard?” My dad’s voice is cold and cruel, clearly unaware of who’s on the other end. “You hear my wife calling out while my hands are wrapped around her throat? I bet you want to call the police. Go ahead, be my fucking guest. See what they say when you tell them something’s happening at the Faulkner house—”
“D-David—”
“I’ve been wanting a new obedient wife for a while now.”
A loud thud follows, the sound of something cracking making my stomach churn.
Taking shallow, shaky breaths, I can barely make out my dad’s voice, cold and indifferent.
“Go ahead and enjoy listening to her final breaths. Rot in hell, you bitch. ”
The sound of my dad’s footsteps retreating fills the line, and my mom’s gasps pierce through the chaos.
“Mom?” I call out, my voice trembling with desperation.
“A-Aiden,” She moans, barely coherent.
Aiden? Why is she mentioning Aiden now?
“Mom, what’s wrong with Aiden? I need you to reach for your phone—”
“A-Aiden,” she groans in agony.
She can’t hear me. She doesn’t realize I’m still on the line.
I text Aiden, but the messages turn green, failing to deliver.
Glancing at Roman, a moral dilemma churns in my mind.
I could wait for Roman to wake up—
“E-Eden,” My mom pleads. “H-Help.”
Frustration wells up inside me.
If I wake Roman, he’ll go alone. What if my dad does something to him?
My dad needs me alive for the bid.
I need to know if Aiden is okay.
Quietly slipping away from the bed, I make my way to the kitchen, grabbing Roman’s Glock and tucking it into my waistband.
I order an Uber, inputting my address with a sinking feeling of dread.
“It’s for Aiden,” I murmur to myself.
I glance back at the bedroom, torn by the urgency of the situation.
“Someone has to keep Roman safe too.”
That’s all it takes to propel me out the door and straight into the fire.
Thirty minutes later, after a nerve-wracking Uber ride and an agonizing wait on my lawn, I stare at the ajar front door of my house.
Quietly nudging the door open, I know calling the cops would be futile. They’d side with my father in an instant.
The hallway is strewn with broken glass and shattered photo frames. A disturbing smear of blood streaks across the wall, intensifying my dread. My hand stays clenched around the hilt of the gun tucked under my shirt, every sense alert.
A single light spills from my father’s study, casting a red pool on the floor.
Mom.
Quickening my pace, I draw the gun, one bullet in the chamber, ready to fire if needed.
Peeking into the study, my heart sinks. There she is—her matted hair and lifeless body on the floor, a pool of blood forming around her head.
“Mom,” I whisper, crouching beside her. I gently roll her onto her back.
“Mom, where’s Aiden—”
I choke on my words, covering my mouth as I survey the horror. Her forehead is caved in, blood seeping from the wound, her eyes glazed over and unseeing. I tear the bottom of Roman’s shirt, pressing the cloth to her head, and scramble for my phone. I pray the paramedics will do their job despite the house’s reputation.
“Mom?” I whisper, desperate for a response.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” I murmur, tears streaming down my face. “What the fuck?” I dial 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“It’s my mom,” I sob. “She—”
“Hand me the phone, Eden,” Hisses a voice that makes my blood run cold.
I turn to see my father standing in the doorway, his own gun shaking in his hand.
“Ma’am, are you still there?” The operator’s voice crackles through the phone.
“Hand it to me, or I’ll put a bullet in your leg,” My father threatens.
I extend my arm towards him, keeping the gun concealed between my legs. He grabs the phone from me, his expression shifting to a falsely cheery mask.
“Hey there, sorry for the mix-up,” He says, his voice smooth as he speaks into the receiver. “My kid dialed the wrong number by accident.” He chuckles, the sound twisted and mocking.
“Thank you for understanding. You have a great night, Donna.”
My father hangs up the call, dropping my phone on the ground and crushing it with his foot.
“You see what happened to your mother?” He barks, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of my head. “All because you and Roman couldn’t keep your filthy hands off each other. ”
“Is she dead?” I whisper, still pressing the cloth against her head.
“She’s with God now,” He sighs, “enjoying eternal life in Heaven.”
His lack of remorse is chilling.
I let out a sob, trying to think clearly despite the overwhelming pain.
“If you do anything to me, Roman will come after you,” I plead.
“I hope he does,” My father snaps, pressing the gun harder into my skull. “Maybe then he’ll learn not to mess around.”
“You can’t kill me,” I hiss, forcing defiance into my voice. “You need me for the bid.”
He pulls back the gun, holstering it with a grim nod.
“At least you understand that much,” He whispers, his gaze icy as he looks me up and down. “Get up, Eden. It’s time to get you prepared.”
With shaking hands, I grab Roman’s gun, rising to my feet. Coated in my mother’s blood, I point the weapon at his head, struggling to steady my grip.
He raises his hands, a twisted smile spreading across his face.
“I see you came prepared.”
“Take another step, and I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes,” I warn. “Now, where is Aiden?”
My father shakes his head, a mocking tone in his voice.
“Aiden isn’t here. And you’re not the only one who came prepared, Eden.”
Before I can react, something hard and cold smashes into the back of my head, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain explodes through my skull and my vision blurs. I claw at the floor, trying to reach the gun, but it’s kicked away. A strong hand grips my hair, yanking my face up from the ground.
“Knock her out. It’s time to get her ready for the bid.”
My face is forced down into the hardwood floor, darkness closing in.
If you can hear me, God, please don’t let me die here.
Psalm 91:1: "Whoever goes to the LORD for safety, whoever remains under the protection of the Almighty, can say to him, “You are my defender and protector"