Page 3 of Unhinged

Sure enough, as soon as I get the bacon out of the pan and onto a paper-towel-covered plate, I hear little feet running down the hallway.

“Morning, Mom.” Judge wraps his arms around me and I hug him back, leaning down to press a kiss to his raven locks.

“Morning, Baby. Did you have fun with Georgia? I have to work late again, so she’ll be watching you tonight too. But I was thinking that this weekend, maybe we could go see Ike and Jackie?” I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing full well what his answer will be.

“Yes!” He jumps in the air, doing a fist pump.

“Don’t get too excited, J,” I warn, even as a smile tugs at my lips. “I need to call and make sure they’ll be home first. But if they are, we’ll crash at their place, okay?”

As I talk, I make him a plate and set it down on the table.

He dives in, grabbing a slice of bacon and humming around the piece he shoves into his mouth.

The sight makes me laugh, and I reach over to ruffle his hair.

I grab my plate and sit beside him, savoring the moment.

These little slices of normalcy are what I live for, what I fight for.

Once we finish eating, I start on the dishes while Judge runs off to get changed for school. “Brush your teeth, Judge!” I call after him, shaking my head with a smile.

After finishing up, I head to my room to get dressed for the day. As I pull a shirt over my head, Judge bursts into the room, flashing me his bright, toothy grin.

“What do you think, Mom?” he asks, grinning proudly and showing off his pearly whites.

“They look good. Let’s grab your bookbag and head out!”

I slip my shoes on and move to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take my blockers. It’s a necessity, but it feels like another layer of armor I have to put on every day.

When I step out, Judge is already by the door, waiting for me.

“I could ride the bus like the other first-graders,” he whines, and I can’t help but smile at his attempt at independence.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me, bro. I’ll be driving you to school until you can drive yourself.” I open the door and let him step into the hall before following him and locking up behind us.

“Ughhh, so not cool.” He rolls his eyes but starts down the stairs.

I hold in a chuckle at his antics and follow him to the street and into my car. “Hopefully, you won’t even go to this school in the fall. Fingers crossed, I save enough to get you into the private academy across town.”

“Mom, I’m fine at this school,” he says, with that surprising wisdom that never fails to amaze me. “Save your money for something else.”

He’s wise beyond his years, and that’s exactly why I want to get him into the academy.

His brilliance shows in the way he breezes through homework like it’s nothing, always hungry for more knowledge.

He needs more, and I can’t help but feel like I’m failing him by not providing it.

But not for long, I promise myself. Soon, I’ll get him what he deserves.

“Here we are! Georgia is picking you up, don't forget. I’ll see you in the morning after my shift.” I turn around, preparing for my kiss goodbye, but I’m met with a quirked lip and matching brow.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.” He unbuckles, leans in to kiss me on the cheek, and then he’s out of the car, chasing after a classmate.

He knows something is up; I don't work that late at the diner. I can't help but wonder what his little imagination has concocted. For his sake, I hope it's something innocent, something far from the truth. I doubt he'd ever guess his mom is a killer.

A horn blares behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I flip off the car before pulling out of the drop-off line. Jesus, it’s a school carpool line, not the emergency room exit; these people need to calm the fuck down.

I make the short drive to the diner, park in the lot on the side of the building, and head inside.

Tying my blue checkered apron around my waist as I walk through the door and brace myself for another shift.

The smell of tater tots and popcorn chicken assaults my senses, making me scrunch my nose in disgust. Who the hell serves that this early in the morning?

But I know the answer—it's not that they’re cooking it now, the smell just never leaves this place.

Times like this, I wish I was a beta and curse my sensitive nose. In reality, the stench clings to everything, like a reminder that there’s no escape from this life. I doubt my designation actually makes a huge difference.

For a second, it’s like I’m right back in that bedroom. My knees on the floor. My voice caught in my throat.

No.

I slam the memory shut and shove it back in the box where it belongs. Lock it. Bury it deep. Move on.

“Brydge! Thank the lord you’re here. We’re swamped already. Can you take sections six through eight?” Sandy asks, breezing past me with a tray full of pancakes and juice.

“Yup.” I grab my pen and notepad, slipping them into the pocket of my apron as I head to my tables.

It’s going to be a long eight hours, but the thought of what’s waiting for me at the end of it—Kenny’s lifeless body—keeps me going.