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“Not a moment too soon,” I sighed.

“That’s about how I feel,” A sour smell carried on the words, the voice as gruff as the hands that snagged the back of my apron strings.

My heart hammered in my chest and his horrid breath warmed my throat, the noxious scent of it making me gag and recoil even as tears spewed down my face.

“You need to tell C.C. to tuck that good Samaritan bullshit somewhere deep. Tell him your life depends on his vote.”

A hand shot between my thighs and awkwardly cupped. The unwelcomed contact instantly made me squirm as I desperately tried to get free. His words, whatever they had been, were instantly lost.

I was in sheer panic, certain that things weren’t going to end well.

Oakland needed me.

Victor did, too!

The fingers curled, battering at my underwear while I desperately tried to kick, elbow, and eventually bite at his forearm.

“Bitch!” he roared.

I sucked in a breath as his hand spanned my jaw and steered my head back hard and fast. It connected with the concrete wall making an odd, sickening sound. The world went black, my last conscious visual was that of his massive silver ring, and the nub of the finger it rested on. The nail was missing; the tip shaped like a baby bone.

“Mom,” The distorted word wasn’t what brought me back to a pounding headache

I gasped, rivers of tears sliding down my face.

Of all the things to dream about, it had to be the one son I couldn’t reach. My gentle giant.

My first born.

“Mom,” The base, emotion, and pitch all tripled, until I opened my eyes to confront the source.

Victor was bulkier than I’d last seen him, his hair was still cut in the same tight, faded cut that his father had brought home from the military.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” I murmured, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

“No,” He didn’t laugh, but his voice lost some of the urgency he’d possessed a few moments ago. “You’re not dead, but you have blood in your hair and Oakland was worried sick about you. His babysitter and her mother were there when I got home this morning.”

I stared, disbelief distorting my features, “‘Home this morning…’”

He nodded, helping me sit up, “Yeah, they released me at four in the morning, said something about space and– I don’t know what they said I just signed and accepted the offer.”

I smiled, the tears starting all over again as I cupped his cheek.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” He looked around, and so did I.

The kitchen wasn’t much disheveled except for the space around me.

“I fell,” I lied. “Must have struck my head.”

I winced and bit back tears as I reached for my head. It wasn’t hurting any more than it had been, but the memories of the encounter were killing me. The putrid breath, the strange hands, and that horrid, half a finger.”

I gagged just as I made it to my knee and nearly toppled forward.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he announced, once he got me to my feet.

“No,” I snapped, a bit too quickly.

He stared at me, the color draining from his face a little.