6. Zoey
ZOEY
I took the folder of documents out of my backpack and double-checked that I’d taken all the necessary paperwork: Roland’s birth certificates, immunization records, and homeschooling documents—everything he’d need to start a new school.
Roland had never been to an actual school. George had forbidden even that small freedom, making me all the more determined that we wouldn’t go back.
I carried the folder down to the kitchen. Even though school had let out for the summer, I wanted to be ready. Since we’d arrived in Boldercrest, I’d considered simply continuing the homeschooling. It would be safer, wouldn’t it? To keep him off-grid and out of sight of...
No, I thought, shaking my head sharply. George had kept us isolated and controlled. He’d already stolen so much of Roland’s childhood. My son deserved friends, laughter, normalcy. Not fear.
I’ve got to stop letting George dictate our lives.
With that thought, I put a reminder in my phone to contact the school about enrolling him. We were going to move on and get out from under this cloud of fear.
“I’m bored,” Roland whined.
“Is that so?” I asked, trying to keep the edge of anxiety from my tone as I tucked the folder under my arm.
“Can we go to the park?” he asked, bouncing on his toes. “The one with the splash pad? It looked like fun when we drove past.”
I hesitated. The park would be full of people. Who knew who might be there? Someone might know George, might recognize me if he’d sent out pictures.
I cleared my throat. “You don’t have any swimming trunks, Ro.”
“We could get some?” His suggestion was innocent enough, but the thought of walking into a store full of strangers made my body hot. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck.
“Maybe,” I said, surprising even myself. I had to be strong for Roland. He needed this. Had I not just been reminding myself of the importance of maintaining normalcy? “Let me think about it for a minute.”
As he skipped away, satisfied with the noncommittal answer, I took a deep breath. With Heather and Sam both at work, it would just be me and Roland. It wasn’t fair to keep my son confined at home when he should be able to play in the park with kids his own age.
After years of having every decision made for me, right down to what clothes I wore, it was a challenge.
Being able to go to a store or a park without a guard was almost too much to handle, but I was determined to push through.
I had to do this. I had to prove to myself I had the courage of my own convictions.
“All right, Ro, let’s do this,” I called out, sounding braver than I felt. Decision made, a burst of exhilaration coursed through my veins. This was just one more step on the path to freedom I was forging.
“Really?” Roland peeked back into the room, his smile infectious.
“Really,” I said, ignoring my clammy palms. “But first, we need to stop by the store to get you some swimming trunks.”
His cheer made the knot of nerves in my gut worth it. Working together, we assembled a simple picnic of sandwiches and some chopped fruit and vegetables. I added a few bottles of water, a towel, and some sunscreen, then we were all set to head out.
As I locked the door behind us, I allowed myself to believe this marked a new chapter for us. That maybe, just maybe, we could do this, step by step, and reclaim our lives.
We entered the store, and I could feel Roland’s excitement bubbling as he raced ahead to the children’s section.
He was a blur of black hair and long limbs.
My steps were more measured, each one a mental victory over the fear that had kept us isolated for so long.
I was vigilant, constantly scanning for any signs of danger.
I couldn’t afford to relax entirely and take risks.
“Mom, look at these!” Roland held up a pair of bright blue trunks with a shark pattern swirling across the fabric. “Can I get them?”
“Sure,” I said, blocking out the clamor of the busy store. I combed through the rows of trunks, my fingers grazing over the hangers until I found a pair in his size. I handed them to him with a smile. “Let’s try them on first,” I added. “Just to be sure.”
He nodded in agreement and scurried off to the fitting room. I followed him in.
“Mom, I’m eight,” he insisted, rolling his eyes. “I can do it myself.”
I hovered at the entrance, watching other shoppers weave past me, lost in their own worlds. My heart still raced, but it was no longer just from fear. There was pride in witnessing Roland wanting to do this on his own.
“They’re perfect!” he exclaimed, emerging with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. The trunks hung just right, hinting at the strong young man he was growing into.
With kids, time warped. It had bent and twisted, taking my wobbly toddler and transforming him into a boy with an independent streak, all in the blink of an eye. All too soon, he’d be a man who wouldn’t want to hang out with his mom.
I was glad I’d summoned up the courage to do this so I could savor the remnants of his childhood.
“Can we go to the splash pad now?” Roland asked, anticipation making him bounce on his toes.
“Let’s pay for them first,” I reminded him gently.
At the checkout, I handed over the bank card, feeling a little giddy as I did. As the cashier bagged the trunks, Roland chattered about everything he’d seen at the park, and for a moment, the world felt lighter, simpler.
“Thank you,” I told the cashier as I took the bag and the receipt. Roland grabbed my hand as we left the store, and I smiled. He hadn’t grown up yet. For now, he was still my little boy.
By the time we got to the park, the sun perched high in the sky.
The playground was buzzing, the air alive with laughter and shouts as children played on the equipment.
The swing sets were in constant motion as parents and nannies pushed little ones while older kids used their feet to propel themselves.
The monkey bars were a hive of activity as small hands clung to the metal bars, and children built towering sandcastles in the sandbox.
Their joy was contagious. This was what Roland had missed out on when we were confined to George’s compound.
The splash pads were the focal point of the park.
Vibrant water fountains shot up in various patterns and heights.
Children of all ages ran through the jets, squealing as they tried to dodge and jump over the sprays.
Some adventurous kids even attempted to block the water jets with their hands, which created impromptu water cannons that sprayed in all directions.
Parents gathered on the sidelines, their cheerful banter and friendly greetings emphasizing the tight-knit nature of this community.
I found a bench under the shaded canopy of an oak tree, granting me a clear view of Roland while allowing him the freedom to explore.
After he’d changed into his new trunks, I leaned back, absorbing the energetic atmosphere.
At first, Roland appeared uncertain about how to approach the other kids and interact with them.
He moved with a cautious curiosity, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.
But as his confidence grew, he blossomed, breaking out of his shell and actively engaging with them, shrieking and splashing in the water.
Occasionally, he darted back to me, as if to make sure I was still there.
“Having fun?” I asked, taking the opportunity to generously cover him with another coat of sunscreen as regret gnawed on the edges of my conscience. This is what his childhood should have been—joy and exploration, free from the cruelty and confinement his brutish father had imposed on us.
“Yes!” He wrapped his wet arms around me and jumped up and down.
“Ro, you’re drenching me,” I laughed.
That only made him giggle and hold me tighter. I wanted to savor this moment. When he let me go, I grabbed my phone, and we grinned at the camera.
Throwing a grin my way, Roland ran back and joined the other kids playing in the water.
He was fascinated by the powerful jets, making frequent stops to examine them.
I could almost hear the cogs whirring in his head, trying to figure out how they propelled water into the air.
The thoughtful look on his face reminded me so much of his father, but I saw none of the darkness there.
My heart swelled as I watched him, this little boy who was so much more than just a child. A future alpha with a world of burdens already on his small shoulders.
“Be careful!” I called out.
“Yes, Mom,” he drawled back, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the other kids turned to look at him.
I took another photo of him and sent it to Heather. I wanted to relax, but I couldn’t. I had no idea how far George’s reach went, and although Heather and Sam had assured me we were safe, I kept a close watch on Roland from the solitude of my position under the sturdy oak tree.
A woman in a vibrant sun dress and a wide-brimmed hat, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, came to sit next to me on the bench. She watched the children, then gestured towards Roland. “Is he yours?” she inquired.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “That’s Roland. He’s eight.”
“He’s tall. I figured he must be at least eleven.” She nodded, her smile warm with maternal understanding. “That’s my Max over there in the red shorts. Just turned six last week. I’m Julie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, though I kept my focus on Roland, making sure he was still within view.
“New around here?” she asked.
“Just visiting some family for a while,” I said.
“Ah, it’s always nice to have?—”
A sudden, piercing cry yanked my focus back to the children, and my heart leapt into my throat.
Roland towered over a smaller boy who was clutching his arm, tears streaming down his face. My son’s jaw was tight, his hand clenched at his sides.