Betrayed by Blood (Betrayed #1) Page 3

  A wave of nausea hits me like a ton of bricks. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in through my nose, trying to calm my rolling stomach. Slowly, I open my eyes and find Gavin watching me.

  “Gavin, would it be okay if I talk to your mom about the conversation we had today? Maybe by talking with your mom we can figure out a way to get the two of you out of this situation.” He visibly relaxes and lets out a big sigh. The weight this poor little boy carries on his shoulders is tremendous.

  “Would you really be able to do that, Ms. Parker?”

  “Yes, Gavin, I can do that. I’ll go see your mom right after school today. Don’t you worry about a thing. Will you be all right by yourself at home until your mom gets off work?” It seems like a silly question, I know. Gavin has two parents that should be taking care of him. His teacher shouldn’t have to worry about how he gets home, but it’s clear neither of his parents are taking care of him at this point.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Parker, I’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself for the last two years. Trust me, I know not to open the door or use the stove, and I swear I’m not going to wander off or play with strangers. Nothing like that.” Grinning, he relaxes as if the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.

  Suddenly, it’s as if all of his weight has transferred to mine, making me feel like the world is ending. I realize my problems are just beginning, and I have a feeling they are going to start with Gavin’s mother.

  WISDOM. IT’S ALWAYS WISE TO seek wisdom before walking the plank. At least, that’s what I was currently telling myself. Uncertainty plagues me concerning my decision to speak with Gavin’s mother. Their situation is complex, to say the least. However, truth be told, I’m the one that’s going about it all wrong. We have processes in place for situations like this. My instincts tell me that I can help them and hopefully guide them in the right direction.

  It’s not like I haven’t been there myself. My heart tells me this is the right thing to do. I’m just unsure of how to approach Mrs. Jennings. I’m not sure if the woman loves her husband or hates her husband. For all I know, she wants her husband dead.

  Finally reaching my destination, I raise my hand and knock. “Hey, you,” I say upon entering.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s my best friend back from the dead.” Emma playfully sticks her tongue out at me then points a finger in my direction. “I was getting ready to send out a search party.” Emma laughs, dazzling me with her brilliant smile.

  “We’re still on for drinks tonight, right?”

  “Yes. We’re still on for drinks.” I sigh. Our Friday night ritual hasn’t changed in years, despite my complaining. “I’m actually here seeking wisdom.” My comment catches her attention.

  Smirking, she replies, “Well, in that case, you may proceed.”

  “Do you remember the little boy we discussed the other day?”

  “The one that you were talking to on the playground?”

  “Yes, he’s the one,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of her desk.

  “He paid me a visit today.” My voice fades out before I fall silent.

  “Well, don’t keep me hanging, Kylee.” Emma pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Since when do you call me Kylee?”

  “Since you started stalling. I’m trying to make a point.” Emma quirks a perfect eyebrow.

  Huffing out a breath, my shoulders slump. “Quite honestly, Em, the conversation was disturbing. Gavin told me that his dad drinks a lot and hits his mom. The poor child alluded to the fact that his father makes him watch. He also went into detail about how he beats him when he tries to stop it.”

  Emma sits in silence for several moments with a pained look on her face. Taking a deep breath, I proceed. “Em, there’s more. I told Gavin I’d go and talk to his mother to see if there is a way to get them both out of this situation.”

  Emma’s brow furrows as she releases a long breath. “Shit, Kylee. Why would you promise something like that? You don’t even know if she wants to be out of the situation. This could blow up in your face.”

  My head jerks back as if she slapped me. It really isn’t the answer I expected considering what she knows about my past. A heavy feeling grows in my stomach as my eyes continue to take in my best friend’s reaction. Finally finding my voice and the courage to stand up for what I believe in, I reply, “Em, you can’t really expect a child to stay in an environment like that. An environment where they’re subjected to both physical and mental abuse daily. Regardless of whether or not the parent chooses to stay. You couldn’t possibly understand the horror that could do to a child. It’s not his fault, and it’s not fair to ask him to endure that.”

  Giving a quick shake of her head, she says, “Kylee, sweetheart, I love that your heart is in the right place. However, I really feel like the best course of action at this point is for you to follow the proper chain of command. Contact the Department of Children and Family Services and let it go.”

  Standing, she moves to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Look, Kylee, I know how hard this is for you, but you have to take the emotions out of this. Remove yourself from the situation and do what’s right for the child.”

  A sudden coldness spreads through me as I gape at Emma. Every instinct tells me I’m doing what is right for the child. He is being abused and so is his mother. At this point, the only thing I am not sure of is if his mom is in a position she isn’t sure how or doesn’t want to get out of.

  “Emma, thanks for looking out for me. My head is clear. I’m not thinking with my emotions. I just feel like I can help. Like maybe she’s in a tight spot and can’t get out. Who knows, maybe having someone she can relate to will help guide her in the right direction.” Giving my shoulders a shrug, I take a deep breath and gaze at Emma.

  “Don’t you give me those puppy dog eyes, Kylee Ann Parker. I still believe this is the dumbest thing you could possibly do. We have policies in place for a reason. This is going to blow up in your face. I don’t want to have to be the one to pick up the pieces when it does.” Tears prick the back of my eyes at the harshness of her words. Blinking several times, I clear my throat then my eyes turn to her desk once more.

  Groaning, Emma slings her arm around my shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Kai. I’ve got a terrible feeling about this.” Giving my shoulder a squeeze, she releases me then takes a step back.

  “Em, it’s the right thing to do. Gavin needs to be protected. What do you do when the person who brings you into this world, the one who swore to protect you, no longer cares? You can’t expect the situation to just resolve itself. Unfortunately, these situations never do and they almost always end badly. I wish it were different but it’s not. I won’t let him be abused.” Standing, I pace the small space in front of her desk.

  “Kylee, it’s that important to you?” Stopping, my gaze lands on Emma. She studies my face intently, as if trying to figure out what’s making me tick.

  With a sigh, I sink down into the chair beside her. “It really is, Em.”

  Rubbing the back of her neck, she watches me for a moment longer before tossing her hands in the air. “Fine, but just so we’re clear, I don’t agree. I have an awful feeling this is going to backfire.” I open my mouth to respond but am cut off by her raised hand.

  “When are you going to speak with his mother?” Emma shoots me that piercing, no-nonsense look; the one she usually reserves for her second-grade students. I’ve clearly hit a nerve with this one. But unlike her students, I know how to smooth things over.

  “When I leave here.” Standing up, I lean over to place a kiss on her forehead.

  “You better not be late for drinks tonight!” Emma pouts.

  “I’ll try not to be late. Our usual? Club Rae?” Emma’s lips quirk into a smirk at the disapproval in my tone. My dislike of our Friday night ritual is well known. She’s made it abundantly clear that I need to socialize more. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to talk her into so
cializing on my couch. Not waiting for her reply, I walk toward the door. Her voice echoes around us as I reach the doorway.

  “You know it, hot stuff! Do you wanna meet at my place beforehand or just meet me at the club?”

  “I’m hoping to come by and get ready at your house. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take with Mrs. Jennings so let’s plan on me coming over. If something changes, I’ll text you.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll have the usual burger and fries ready with a side of green apple vodka.” Groaning, a shudder races through my body at the thought. Giving my head a vigorous shake, I reply, “No way, Emma. I’ve had enough green apple vodka to last me a lifetime.”

  Laughing at my response, Emma replies, “Come on, Kai! It’s my favorite. Please do it for me?” Pushing her lower lip out into a pretty pout, she steeples her hands together like she’s praying. Emma really can be a manipulative little brat sometimes. But she’s my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. Sighing, I give her a short nod and bite my lip to keep from smirking at her joyous expression.

  “Yay! Okay, Kai, see you soon!”

  “Ugh. Whatever. Bye, brat. You know you really are spoiled.” Turning on my heel, I try not to laugh as Emma huffs and loudly exclaims, “Am not!”

  The lightheartedness of the last few moments flee as I make my way to my desk. Dread fills me as my mind wanders to the impending conversation with Mrs. Jennings.

  CLARITY BEING SHARP, CLEAR, AND levelheaded—all things someone like myself could use right now—I had hoped during the drive from the school to Mrs. Jennings’ place of employment that my thoughts would organize themselves. Unfortunately, clarity continues to elude me. Questions start compiling, making it hard to concentrate. What if she doesn’t want to leave her husband? What if she denies the entire situation? I can’t understand why on earth she would even want to do that. After all, she has Gavin to consider as well. What parent would willfully put their child in harm’s way?

  The second that question pops into my mind, I can feel my skin start to tingle and the hair on the back of my neck begins to stand. Dark thoughts press their way into my mind one at a time. Images flash before my eyes, immediately reminding me of the smell and taste of blood.

  There was so much blood it filled my mouth, running down my body, pooling on the floor around my feet, a never-ending sea of my pain for her enjoyment.

  Pulling my Jeep over to the side of the road, I toss it into park. Doing my best to push the thoughts away, I begin chanting, “Happy thoughts, Kylee. Happy thoughts, Kylee.” Truth be told, there are no happy thoughts; there are only brief moments of solace when you appear happy for the sake of others.

  However, at this moment, I’m reminded not of myself but of the little boy I’m trying to help. Gavin’s innocence, his childhood, is being ripped away from him one punch, one kick, and one bruise at a time. Every time he has to watch his father take a swing at his mother, a little bit of his innocence dies. My heart hurts knowing he has to return home to that every night. Forcing my breathing to slow, the memories fade as anger helps me to focus on the task at hand. Pushing my shoulders back, my gaze drifts to the rearview mirror.

  Locking eyes with my reflection, my muscles tighten as I give myself a little nod. This is for Gavin. He won’t suffer the same fate as me. Smoothing out my hair, I nod at myself one final time, muttering, “All right, Kylee, it’s game time. Let’s do this for Gavin.”

  Navigating my Jeep back onto the road, I drive the short distance to Harvest Grocery Store, praying that my detour hasn’t prevented me from seeing Mrs. Jennings. Pulling into the parking lot, a young woman exiting the store grabs my attention. Walking to the side of the building, she leans back against the wall then removes a pack of cigarettes from her apron. Lighting her cigarette, she closes her eyes, basking in the sun. Her face softens as she relaxes.

  A saying my father repeated to me as a child comes to mind as I sit and watch her.

  “Never judge a book by its cover, Kylee. Appearances can be deceiving. They’re only on the surface. To actually see a person and the situation, you have to use more than your eyes. Use all of your senses, Kai. Your ears to hear what they say. Your eyes to see not only their appearance but how they speak with their body. Listen, learn, and observe. Knowledge is power.”

  It took me a while to not only understand but learn what he meant. It took longer still to develop the skill. For example, to the untrained eye, subtle things about her may go unnoticed. Like how her hair has been carefully orchestrated to cover the bruises on the left side of her neck or how she applied makeup to cover the fading bruise on her right cheek.

  Opening the door, I step out of the vehicle and smooth my skirt. After observing the woman, I’m positive it’s Gavin’s mother. Walking swiftly through the parking lot, I approach carefully, making eye contact when she notices me. Panic registers on her face as she holds my gaze. Her eyes dart toward the alley to ensure no one else is approaching. Testing my theory, I call out her name. “Mrs. Jennings?”

  Her eyes widen just a fraction as she nods her head.

  “Mrs. Jennings, I’m Kylee Parker. Gavin’s teacher.”

  Paling, she sways slightly as she sucks in a sharp breath. Reaching out a hand to steady her, I move forward only to be shut down as she presses herself firmly against the wall. Taking a step back, I raise my hands in the air, palms out. Concern laces my voice as I ask, “Mrs. Jennings, are you all right?”

  Dropping her cigarette to the ground, she places a hand on her chest, tears shining in her eyes. “Oh, God, is Gavin all right? Is my baby hurt?”

  Tipping my head to the side, I study her for a moment. Mrs. Jennings seems to be concerned about Gavin so that’s a plus. Although, it’s hard to tell in these situations. It could always be a front. There’s only one way to find out. We have to talk about the conversation Gavin and I had earlier. My stomach lurches at the thought. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I put on a reassuring smile and calmly reply, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry to have startled you. He was fine at school today.”

  Her brow creases in confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s going on, then?”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk? I’d like to discuss a few things with you in private.”

  “Um, I guess we could go to the break room. I’ve got to get back to work soon, though.” Uncertainty fills her voice.

  Politely smiling, I reply in a soothing tone, “Thank you, Mrs. Jennings. I won’t take but a few moments of your time.”

  “It’s just this way.” She points to a side door down the alley.

  Nodding, I follow behind her as she leads us down the alley to the back entrance of the store. Upon entering, I take a quick peek around to get a feel for my surroundings. Harvest Grocery is a small Mom-and-Pop store with three exits. There’s the main entrance at the front of the store, one at the back, which we are entering, and one just off the side of a storage room. The small break room is nestled in the back of the store and closed off to the public. Overall, the store has a open floor plan and the exits are easy to reach if I need to make a fast get away. Not that I’d need to, but you never know who might come crashing in unexpectedly. My mouth runs dry at the thought, leaving me frozen to the spot. Emma was right. This could backfire on me. Well, it’s too late now. I’m here already. Gavin’s worth any struggle I’ll endure.

  “It’s in here,” she says, cutting into my inner musings.

  “Perfect.” My words sound hollow in my own ears as my steps echo behind her.

  Taking a seat at the table, she motions for me to sit in the chair across from her. I’ve just seated myself when she nervously asks, “What did you want to talk to me about? Gavin’s doing okay in school, right? He isn’t causing any trouble, is he?” Her questions tumble out one after another. Shaking her head as if warding off her thoughts, she purses her lips and begins picking at her fingernail polish.

  “Mrs. Jennings, your son is doing well in school. He’s no
t causing any problems. However, the matter I came here to speak with you about is very important. I do ask for you to be patient with me while I explain it to you, as sometimes these things may be hard to hear.” Swallowing, I clasp my hands together underneath the table to keep them from shaking.

  “Gavin confided in me today about some things going on at home. Mrs. Jennings, I must tell you the things your son has mentioned are not only disturbing in nature, they’re quite honestly grounds for the Department of Children and Family Services to intervene.” Slowly blowing out a breath, I pause to gauge her reaction. With widened eyes, her arms begin to tremble slightly as she stammers, “M—Ms. Parker, I—I find that incredibly offensive. Nothing is going on in my home.” She shifts in her seat as her eyes dart around the room, avoiding eye contact. Warning bells go off, alerting my instincts that she’s hiding something. The contents of my stomach pitch and roll as my worst fears come to fruition.

  Tingling begins at the nape of my neck. Numbness begins to take over as my agitation over the situation increases. Scooting forward ever so slightly, my eyes narrow as our gazes meet.

  “Mrs. Jennings, I don’t believe for one minute Gavin is making anything up. Especially considering the injuries I’ve seen with my very own eyes, injuries in which I will gladly testify to.” Halting, I take several slow, deep breaths, calming my nerves before continuing.

  “What disturbs me the most is that he’s protecting you, yet you won’t do the same. Mrs. Jennings, how is it that your son has more honor and bravery in his tiny little body than you do? I’m giving you an opportunity to protect him yet you blatantly refuse, telling me nothing is going on.”

  Mrs. Jennings sits unmoving, her eyes now glassy with unshed tears. The silence stretches between us for several long moments, forcing me to try another approach.

  Using a soothing voice I usually reserve for my students, I try coaxing her to open up, offering her assistance anyway possible.