Little Things (Second Chances 1)

At that moment, the police come barreling into the bedroom, guns poised and ready to shoot.

An officer points his gun at Duke, “Put your hands in the air!”

Duke immediately complies, “I called the cops. Her step-father is downstairs in the basement. He did this, not me.”

The cop pulls Duke to his feet and escorts him out into the hallway. Duke turns to look at me, “Raya, I’m right out here!”

A female cop enters the bathroom, “Miss, I need you to tell me what happened.”

I yell at her, “Don’t you fuckin’ see it? He killed her! He killed my mother!”

I lay my head on my mom’s chest as I cry and cry.

The cop places her hand on my shoulder, “Miss, who killed your mother?”

“Craig. Craig killed her. And it’s all my fault.”

Raya

The past twelve hours have been a complete blur. I can’t remember the last time I ate or even spoke to someone. After the police questioned me and Duke, a coroner arrived and took my mother away. I remember standing outside of my house, police lights flashing throughout the street, Duke’s arms huddled around me. The EMTs examined my arm, and apparently I fractured it, but nothing too serious. A few weeks in a sling will do. After the exam, a few officers haul Craig off into the back of a police car. My body stiffens but I have the urge to kill him. I would do anything to give him what he deserves. The only thing that stops me is Duke’s look. His eyes convey concern, comfort, and loyalty all at once.

Melanie and her family allow me to stay with them for the night. They put me up in the guest room, and thankfully, she stays with me all night. I don’t sleep a wink; all I do is cry and cry. The whole time, all she does is hold me and wipe my tears as they fall. A few times, she even cries with me.

“Raya, I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I can’t imagine how you feel.” She reaches up and moves my hair away from my face.

Snot clogs my nose and my throat feels scratchy. “Melanie, she’s gone. I’m all alone now.”

The heavy sobs return and she gently caresses my back in an attempt to calm me for the remainder of the evening.

I wash my face, brush my teeth, and make my way downstairs for breakfast with Melan

ie’s family. Rummaging through my overnight bag to find anything decent to wear, I can’t seem to settle on anything—it all looks like shit to me. I look at my reflection only to see dark circles and a lost soul in front of me. Tears fill my eyes but I look away. This is your fault. She’s gone because of you.

I throw on a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a long t-shirt and comb my hair into a sloppy bun. Opening the bedroom door, I slowly walk down the stairs, and as I approach the kitchen, I hear whispering.

“How’s Raya, Melanie? Do you think she’ll come downstairs today?”

“I don’t know, Mom. How would you react if your mother was murdered? She needs more time.”

I hear Melanie’s mother sniff, “Bless Genna’s soul. It’s such a shame to have this happen. And to think that Craig was going it all this time and I never suspected. Did you?”

“I’m still shaken over it, Mom. It’s been three days and I haven’t been able to sleep a full night. Imagine how Raya feels. She was there; her mom died in her arms.”

“She’s been cooped up in her room for days. She needs to eat. Do you think she’ll come downstairs today? Maybe we should call a doctor?”

I walk into the kitchen to find Melanie hugging her mother, and instead of letting go of one another, Melanie opens her arm and pulls me into the hug. The three of us curl up and hold our embrace for a few minutes as more tears spill down my cheeks.

I let go and sit at the kitchen table, “Thank you for having me here. I know it must be hard for you.”

Melanie sits next to me, grabs my hand, and squeezes it, “Nonsense. You are always welcome here, Raya. You don’t ever have to feel like you don’t belong. You’re family now.”

I smile at her sign of affection and squeeze her hand in response. Melanie’s mom serves us breakfast—bacon, eggs, and buttermilk pancakes.

After days of not eating, my stomach growls in anticipation as I grab a fork and dig in.

Melanie looks over while I eat, “Duke keeps calling for you. He’s worried about you. You should talk to him.”

I swallow the last bite of pancake and exhale, “I don’t know if I can.”