30. Save Me
Save Me
“Papa? Can you and Mama swing me?” I plead.
I put on my best ‘please’ face, staring up at him with a smile and wide eyes. He ruffles my hair and grabs my hand, spinning me in place.
I raise onto my tiptoes and spin again and again.
“She’s on a work call, but she’ll be done soon, and then we can swing you, okay?”
“She’s always on the phone,” I huff.
Papa kneels in front of me, smoothing out my wild, long hair. His cherry blossom scent soothes me.
“She’s a very important person. When you’re all big and grown up, you will be too. But she loves us very much.”
I sigh.
Arms wrap around me from behind and throw me up in the air. I scream. My panicked scent pulses with the smell of burning plastic and stings my nose.
A warm and spicy ginger fills the air.
Mama!
I land with a thud, gently cradled against her chest.
“What were you two talking about?” She teases.
“Swing me!” I demand.
She laughs and lowers me to the ground. They grab my hands and swing me into the air as we walk. I sway between them, my light up shoes scraping the ground and my dress fluttering around my knees.
The sound of kids screaming gets louder, and excitement buzzes in my chest. I try to pull out of their hold, but Mama tightens her hand around mine, pulling me to a stop just outside the playground gates.
“You stay where we can see you. Promise.” She lets go, holding out her pinkie finger.
I wrap mine around it and nod.
“I promise.”
She bends, placing a kiss on our connected hands and leaving a bright red lipstick mark on my skin.
“Go on then.”
I run.
* * *
My lungs burn and my legs ache. I need water.
I stop, resting my hands on my knees and taking deep breaths. Trees surround me. I’m hidden, but I can’t rest for long. Imogen will be hunting me. She thinks because she’s an Alpha that she’s better at hide and seek than me. I’ll show her.
A low whimpering pulls at my attention.
I dart around the trees, and the sound gets louder.
By the gate, a boy is huddled on the ground. His cries get louder, and the closer I get, the more my chest hurts from the overwhelming scent of white flowers. He’s sad.
“Hi,” I mutter.
He doesn’t look up. I’m not even sure he hears me.
“I’m Omega Evangeline Williams. You can call me Evie.”
He blinks up at me, blood stains his scraped knees. I fall to the floor beside him, oily panic seeps from my scent. He cries louder.
I take a deep breath and try to remember what Papa does when I fall over. He holds me, cleans it, and smells of calm chamomile.
I place my hand on his shoulder and he flinches. He must be in so much pain. I close my eyes and focus on how Papa makes me feel. The sweet, relaxing scent surrounds us, turning his cries into a soft whimper.
“I want my daddy.” He chokes out.
“Okay.”
I can do that.
I look around us, but I can’t see anyone, not even Imogen.
“Can you walk?”
He limps onto his feet and grabs my hand. We shuffle through the twigs and bushes, further and further from where we came.
“Sorry.”
He keeps saying that. Looking at me from the corner of his eye and squeezing my hand in his. He hasn’t stopped crying.
“Where—where is your daddy?”
He points outside the gate, and my heart hammers inside my chest. I’m not supposed to be this far. I’m definitely not supposed to go out of the park. But he’s all alone. I can’t leave him.
“Can you walk on your own?”
I try to pull my hand from his, but he cries louder, grabbing my arm so hard I squeal.
“No!” he cries. “You have to come with me.”
I spare a look behind me. I’m going to be in so much trouble.
“Evie!”
Mama. She’s trying to find me. She sounds far away.
I nod and pick up my pace. I need to be quick. The faster I get him to his daddy, the faster I can go to Mama. She can’t be too upset that I was helping someone who was hurt and lost.
We shuffle through the gate, but I can’t see an adult waiting anywhere.
“It’s not far.”
His eyes flash with fear as he points to a car parked on the side of the road. Everything in my body tells me not to go.
I stick out my pinky. Mama’s red kiss still bright, staining my skin.
“Promise?”
He wraps his shaky finger around mine, and the lights on the car flash. His daddy must have seen him. But the closer we get, the more my head screams at me to go back. Something’s not right.
The doors open but rather than running to his daddy, the boy stops.
“I’m sorry.”
I whip my head around, looking at him. He’s not crying anymore.
He takes a step back, his limp gone, and lets go of my hand.
I stumble forward, knocking into a hard body.
A hand slaps over my mouth and another around my waist. Trapping my arms against my stomach.
I kick and try to scream, but it’s all muffled.
They smell of nothing, and somehow that scares me more. I try to bite them, scratch, and shout like Papa taught me, but they’re strong. I need someone to save me, to see me and say something.
They throw me in the back of the car and my head hits the glass with a crack. The door slams. The sharp sound makes my ears ring. My head spins and my eyes can’t focus. Tears stream down my face, and the world moves beneath me.
No one is coming for me.
There’s no one to save me.