Page 61 of Married to the Devil

You were going to scar our daughter, and for what?

The worst part is, he’s right. I didn’t think it through. I should have been more thorough in trying to find out how far of a hike it would be to get somewhere safe enough to escape. I should’ve thought about how difficult it would be with Hattie. And the effect the escape might have on her.

Now I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Running through the woods with my five-year-old isn’t an option. Rafe will notice before I can make it to help and he’ll drag both of us back. Then how do I explain it to my daughter? What will she think?

No, I need to wait.

I focus on Hattie for a while. I help her draw a massive spaceship. Some of the guards are watching and I notice more than a few of them smiling at how animated Hattie gets when she’s trying to explain to me what she wants me to draw.

“I’m the boss now!” She waves her little arms. “I’m the Pony Queen!”

“Yes, Pony Queen, I hear you. But I don’t know what you mean by draw him with biggest. Biggest what?”

“Biggest!”

A car comes toward us before I can figure out what she’s talking about. I pause and look up. It’s a dark sedan and going slow. It parks at the edge of the main circle out front where Hattie and I are working.

Rafe climbs out, moving gingerly.

At first I think he’s playing a trick. He walks with a slight limp and his face looks odd. I can’t tell what’s going on until he gets closer.

There are cuts. Bruises. Slicing across his cheeks.

His jacket is bloody. Streaks of blood in his hair.

“Oh my god.” I get to my feet, chalk dropping from my hand. “Hattie, go inside.”

“What’s wrong? Is that Rafey?”

“Sweetie, inside, right now.”

“Mom—“

“Get inside, Harriet.”

She pouts but does as she’s told. Rafe moves toward me, his expression hard. I meet him halfway, reaching out to touch his face, my chest pulsing wildly. “What… what happened? Are you…”

“I’m fine.” He touches the back of my hand. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?! Come on, I need to clean you up.”

“No, June. I have work.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.” I take him by the arm and tug. He grunts and I can tell it hurts, but I don’t care. I drag him up the steps, in through the front, and force him to climb to the top. I tell Hattie to go to her room to watch her TV for a bit while I help Rafe get cleaned up.

“He had an accident,” she says gravely, nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I have those all the time.”

Rafe pauses in the door to our room. “What do you mean by that, Hattie?”

“Potty is hard to get to. And I trip and fall. Accidents.”

He must be in pain. There’s no other explanation. Because he smiles at her, a real, genuine smile, cutting through his discomfort. “I’m usually good about making it to the bathroom, love.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

I nudge Rafe onward. “Hattie, TV now, please. I’ll check on you in a few minutes.”