Chapter 3 - Grabbing My Son And Storming Out Of The House
The cold night air hit our faces the second I pushed open the heavy front door of Diane’s suburban estate. Noah clutched my jacket tightly, whispering over and over again that he was sorry for knocking over the water glass.
“You did nothing wrong, baby... Mommy is right here, and nobody is ever going to hurt you again,” I promised fiercely. I loaded him into his car seat with trembling hands, strapping him in with clinical, frantic precision.
Before I could slam the rear passenger door shut, Ryan came barreling down the front porch steps calling my name. “Elena, stop being so dramatic! Get back inside and let’s talk this out like reasonable adults!” Ryan yelled.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, locking all four doors from the master control panel with a sharp click. Ryan pounded his fist against the driver-side window, his face contorted with desperate anger and fear of exposure.
“Open this door right now, Elena! You’re making a scene in front of my entire family!” Ryan demanded furiously. I stared straight ahead, putting the car into reverse and stepping hard on the gas pedal without hesitation.
Ryan jumped backward just in time to avoid the rear bumper as I spun the car around in the gravel driveway. Through the rearview mirror, I watched Diane standing on the porch watching us escape into the dark night.
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The headlights cut through the winding suburban roads as I drove away from the nightmare as fast as legally possible. My mind raced through a thousand terrifying scenarios regarding what Diane had been doing to my little boy downstairs.
When we finally turned onto our street, my hands were shaking so violently I could barely insert the house key. I knew we couldn't stay in this house a single second longer with a man who actively covered up child abuse.
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