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Criss cocked her gun.
“Okay. Okay. Damn it.” He started walking toward the front door. “This isn’t over.”
It never was. He’d found them again. Which meant, they had to move, again. Damn.
“Cristal, my mother wants her granddaughter. She’ll pay…”
“For the last time, my niece isn’t for sale. And your mother only wants her so that your stupid ass dad can win the minority vote in the mayoral election. Like you, she doesn’t care about Shy. But having a mixed kid present during photo ops would make your dad look good. It would make him look like he cared about the black community. Trust me, I know exactly why your mother suddenly wants you to bring Shy home to her. Tell your mother that I will never allow Shy to live with you or her. Now, get the fuck out my house and out of Shy’s life, Scott.”
Looking pissed off, he turned and stormed to the front door, only to face her as he stood in the doorway. “Can I have my gun?”
“You can have a bullet in the chest.”
“Stupid bitch,” he mumbled as he slammed the door.
Cristal rushed to the front door and locked it. She looked through the peephole and watched Scott get into his black truck. She didn’t turn away from the door until he sped off down the street.
She faced her granny. “I need to find Shy.”
“Take the gun with you. Just in case he’s makes the block and comes back.”
“Yes ma’am. My gun is locked in the hall closet. It’s not loaded.”
“I’ll get it. Go. It’s cold out there.”
Criss raced down the back hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. The neighbors’ dog barked from the other side of the fence as Criss raced to the alley behind her house then across the street to the church.
Yeah, the neighborhood they lived in wasn’t great and yeah, she didn’t like this plan she’d concocted. However, she’d rather have Shy hide out in a church than have her be taken by the monster who’d fathered her.
Though the neighborhood wasn’t good, the people respected the church and its grounds. No one squatted there or slang drugs near it. The community respected pastor Bailor. There was a shed behind the church where the pastor kept his landscaping supplies. There was where Criss found Shy, huddled up in the corner.
“Sweetie,” Criss called out.
“Auntie?”
“It’s me.”
Shy raced into her arms. Criss hugged her close. Tears dripped down both their cheeks.
“I got you baby girl. You’re safe.”
“It took me three minutes to get the lock picked.” Shy’s voice was muffled.
“What sweetie?” Criss leaned away from her niece, so she could hear her better.
Shy wiped her eyes. “During the drills, I was able to pick the lock in one minute or less.” She sniffed. “This time, it took me three minutes.”
“That’s okay sweetie.”
Shy shook her head. “It’s not. He could’ve gotten me. He could’ve taken me.”
“He didn’t. And that’s all that matters.”
Shy stared down at her hands. “I should’ve been able to get in the shed faster. My hands were shaking so bad. I couldn’t get the lock open.”
“I told you real life is different than drills. You got the lock open and you hid. That’s all that matters.”
Shy continued shaking her head. Criss pulled her niece close and hugged her tightly. This wasn’t the life her niece was supposed to have. Having drills to escape her father, picking locks, hiding on church grounds, this was no life for a ten-year-old.
