Corpse Flower

IV. Room 21

Sophia’s POV:

Arlo’s breathing shallows, “It hurts.”

I held him close to my chest. I’ll figure out an explanation on the way to Bailee’s house. Without another thought, I wrapped the blanket around Arlo’s small body and rushed out of the house.

Grey skies can be seen even in the night. A starling low rumble rang across the sky. I flung my leg across the bike and held Arlo on my lap. Harsh liquids hit with force with each turn of the bicycle.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go to Bailee’s house. She’ll take us to the hospital.” I’m not sure if Arlo could hear me, but continued talking anyway. I kept telling him that he’ll be okay. That, we will both be okay.

But, the more I talked. The more I realized that I might be talking to myself.

My legs halted in the middle of the wood—a shortcut between my house and Bailee’s house.

The rain pours down and washes away all the impurities.

Run away.

That thought ran across my mind.

If Arlo and I run away now, Jake can’t hurt us.

Arlo held my shirt and squeezed his small arms around my body with all his strength. I looked down, and with a light breath, he forced a smile. He wants to tell me he’s fine, but he couldn’t.

I shouldn’t act stupid.

Not now.

Running away is not an option.

Arlo needs the hospital.

He needs someone to take care of him.

The sky suddenly settled in a comforting way—a temporary comfort. The moonlight peeked through for a moment before another vicious round arrived.

I washed away all thoughts of running and pedaled towards our destination. In the middle of the night, outside of the woods, two girls were shoved into a black van.

Not a good sign.

One of the kidnappers made eye contact with me.

Now, a terrible sign.

The kidnapper elbowed another one. They both look at me. A rush of discomfort dives into the stomach; a much more undesirable effect than when Jake relinquishes his anger. If I knew this was going to happen, I would’ve woke Jake up. The most he’ll give is a little beating before coming up with a story about Arlo’s bruises and then take him to the hospital.

The authorities can’t do anything if the stories line up. They can’t take away Arlo into foster care. Foster care is a trap. A dead end.

I should know.

After mom died, I was in foster care for two months.

Immediately, I turned the bike around. Maybe, they won’t care about me if I pretended I didn’t see anything. It’s terrible of me, I know. To turn a blind eye on such an immoral situation, but I got problems of my own.

Arlo’s safety comes first.

Strangers are secondary.

When I heard the sound of tire squeal, my heart halted entirely. I look back to see the black van driving beside us. They won’t allow us to leave.

At that moment, pure fear engulfs my mind. It’s not predictable anger or pain that’s worse; it’s the random event you never saw coming. The random works on the mind that tortures every sense. I peddled into the woods and towards the other path.

My hands gripped firmly on the handles, and I peddled faster than ever. The water drops soon turned into tears, and the only cries were my own. Arlo passed out long ago.

The bike tilted over, and our bodies crashed on the ground. I held Arlo close to me and used my body as his shield. Once the initial painful impact bypass, I look at the child in my arms. I stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, “We’re fine. We’re fine.”

A faint voice made its appearance. Instantly, I got up and limped deeper into the forest. Past the trees and into the bushes, an abandoned building made its appearance.

Stepping into the old building was like stepping into a whole other world. It was like venturing in the desert, no sense of direction.

“I saw it and went in here.”

I held Arlo closer and went deeper into the building. The building was empty, not a surprise. Arlo’s breath seems to still be in the cold air. His body isn’t hot. That worries me.

The quietness was ominous, telling me there’s no point of return. I can only move forward. The further I stepped, the heavier my legs became. Without proper senses, I fell onto the floor and dropped Arlo. “Oh. No. No. No. Arlo. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

That drop woke him up.

There’s a part of me that’s relieved.

He turned his head and forced his body to move.

“Stay there. I’ll come to you,” I said. I attempted to get up only to fall flat down. My ankle hurts.

Arlo crawled towards me, and the tears dropped. It wasn’t him. It’s me. I’m crying. This is all my fault. I’m the adult. I should’ve made better decisions, and today all I’ve done is make one mistake after another.

Finally, he reached me. He went on his knees and held me firmly. My head pressed against his skinny chest, and I could hear the sound of his enraging heartbeat. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ll be okay. Nothing will hurt you anymore. I’m here. I’m here with you. We will be okay.”

Those are the words I told Arlo during his mother’s funeral.

At the time, it meant nothing.

It was meaningless words as a means of comfort.

That was before I found out the reason why his mom killed herself.

Arlo kissed my forehead, “I’ll protect you.”

What a silly boy.

He can’t even protect himself.

How can he protect me?

“I told you! It’s a f*****g raging place to have a party!” A voice. A new one. A younger one.

“Party? Here? Are you crazy?” A female voice.

“s**t yeah!” Another male’s voice.

Arlo’s head drops onto my shoulder. I held his light body on my lap. “Hello! Hello! Can you hear me? I need help!”

“Did you hear that?” Another female’s voice.

“Help! Help! Help us! My brother needs medical help!” With all the strength I had left, I got up and ignored the pain on my ankle. “Help!” I limb towards the merging voices. “Help! He-” My legs halted at the door at the end of the hallway.

Room 21.

Supporting Arlo with one arm, I use the other to open the room.

“Found you.”

Indistinctly, my body turned around, and the only thing I could hear was the sound of gunshots.

What a terrible birthday.