Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Sabrina's POV

The bus doesn't come to my community. It’s too far, and there’s no bus service.

I pulled my coat tighter, hurrying across the grimy street toward my apartment. Six flights of stairs, no elevator. I was panting by the time I reached the top floor.

I leave Abigail with Mrs. Campbell when I go to work. But this time, I heard the crying before I even knocked.

I quickly pushed the door open. “Mrs. Campbell?”

She was sitting on the couch, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking. And Abigail, my three-year-old daughter, was patting Mrs. Campbell’s arm with her tiny hands.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Campbell,” Abigail said. “Don’t cry.”

My heart tightened. She was too small to be comforting an adult.

“Mama!” Abigail saw me and ran over. “Mama, Mrs. Campbell is very sad. Can you make her feel better?”

I put down my groceries and sat next to Mrs. Campbell, pulling her into a hug.

I sat with Mrs. Campbell and kept asking questions. It was a while before she would speak.

“It was the machine,” Mrs. Campbell finally said. “The one that makes sandpaper. Austin’s sleeve got caught in it while he was operating it. The machine dragged him in…” She couldn’t finish.

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday morning.” Her hands wrung in her lap. “The company said it was his fault, that he didn’t follow safety regulations. They don’t want to pay anything.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “We’ll get a lawyer! Call the union! We’ll make them pay!”

Mrs. Campbell made a mournful sound. “I can’t afford a lawyer. I don’t know if the union will help. Without Austin, I have nothing…”

I looked at the helpless Mrs. Campbell. Honestly, I didn’t know how to help her either. I could only comfort her until she was slightly composed.

“It will be okay,” I said. “We’ll figure something out.”

Mrs. Campbell nodded, wiped her tears, and offered a weak nod.

“Thank you for watching Abigail tonight,” I said.

I stood up and reached out my hand to Abigail. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go home.”

Abigail gave Mrs. Campbell a tight hug, then took my hand.

Back at our apartment, it was a mess. Dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor. Clutter made the small space feel even more cramped.

Abigail was asleep. I picked her up and put her on our bed. I tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

Then I started tidying up. Washed the dishes first, then picked up the clothes. The phone rang while I was making mac and cheese.

A familiar name lit up the screen.

“Hello,” I answered, holding the phone clamped between my shoulder and ear while stirring the pot.

The voice on the other end was both gruff and concerned.

“Uh, how have you been? How’s Abigail?”

“We’re fine. She’s asleep.”

“You sound tired.”

“Just got off work.” I didn’t want to mention any other troubles at home. Like being dirt poor, or being sexually harassed.

“Sabrina, I want to send you some money.”

“Thank you, but I can manage.”

“Don’t push yourself. I know you need the money right now.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted to say no, but reality told me I needed it.

The rent for this dump is six hundred dollars a month. With the essential expenses for me and Abigail to survive, I spend over fifteen hundred dollars a month. And I only earn seventeen hundred dollars.

Just staying alive is hard enough.

I thought about it, and finally replied, “I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t have to. You know that.”

My throat tightened. Gratitude and sadness were intertwined.

“How have you been?” I asked.

There was silence on the other end for a moment. “Not good. There’s been a series of murders here. Twenty pack members have died so far.”

“What? Twenty?”

“Yes. Someone is targeting us. Derek is going crazy.” He paused. “Doctor Nora was one of the victims.”

Nora. The doctor who told me I was pregnant.

“When?”

“Three days ago. They found her body in the clinic.”

I gripped the counter tightly. “Who did it?”

“We don’t know yet.” He continued, “There’s something else.”

“Scarlett can’t get pregnant. It’s been three years, and nothing has happened. Everyone is talking.”

I should have felt satisfied, but I only felt empty.

“Derek is treating her like trash now,” he continued. “Sabrina, I think he might be looking for you.”

My blood ran cold. “What?”

“I overheard him talking to his men. He was asking where you went. I think he’s sent people to look for you.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m still finding out. But promise me to be careful, okay?”

“Mama?” Abigail’s sleepy voice came from the bedroom.

“I have to go,” I said. “Abigail woke up.”

“Say hi to her for me.”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“You know I’m always here.”

I hung up and walked toward Abigail. She was sitting on the bed, eyes half-closed, a confused expression on her little face.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I had a bad dream.” Her voice was still tearful.

I climbed into bed and pulled her into my arms. “It’s okay. Mama’s here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nestled against me, her small hands clutching my clothes. After a few minutes, her breathing became steady, and she fell back into a deep sleep.

I gently laid her back on the pillow, looking at her peaceful sleeping face. Sunlight spilled onto her face, her eyelashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks. She was so lovely, so innocent, completely unaware of how dangerous the outside world was.

Derek is looking for me.

The thought washed over me like ice water. My palms started sweating, and my heart raced. Why? After all these years, why is he looking for me now? Does he know about my pregnancy?

I looked at my daughter’s sleeping face, my gaze gradually becoming determined.

I would rather die than let him take her from me. I dragged my tired body to the kitchen. I prepared her food for tomorrow and heated up some leftover pizza for myself. After a quick wash, I was practically collapsing from exhaustion. I fell into bed and passed out.

When I woke up, the room was very dim; it was already evening. I heard movement in the kitchen. Abigail.

I stepped out of the room to find her standing on a chair, trying to pour cereal into a bowl. The milk was already on the counter.

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

She turned around, a smile on her face. “Making you dinner! You were sleeping, and I thought you might be hungry.”

The cereal box was too heavy. She had spilled some on the floor. But she tried her best.

I wanted to cry.

“That’s so thoughtful of you, sweetie. Thank you.” I took the box from her and helped her finish pouring.

We ate cereal together. Abigail chattered about the dream she had. I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting to what Ethan had said.

After dinner, I bathed Abigail and helped her get dressed. Then I had to do what I had been avoiding—taking her to the bar.

“Sweetie, you have to wait for Mama in the storeroom again tonight, okay?”

Abigail nodded without complaining. “I’ll be good, Mama.”

A pang of guilt struck my heart. We had done this many times. She was always very well-behaved, never running around, just quietly staying in that dimly lit storeroom, surrounded by liquor boxes and cleaning supplies, waiting for me to finish work. I knew how boring and lonely it was. A three-year-old shouldn’t spend her nights like this.

“I’ll bring you a new coloring book,” I said, trying to make my voice sound light.

As we walked out of the apartment, we met Mrs. Campbell in the hallway. She looked a little better than in the morning—at least she had changed clothes and combed her hair.

“Hi, Sabrina.” Her voice was still tired, but her eyes were no longer vacant.

“Mrs. Campbell, are you okay?”

“A little better.” She offered a slight smile. “The union called this afternoon and said they’re willing to help sue Austin’s company. At least… at least we can do something.”

“That’s wonderful.” I was genuinely happy for her.

I was holding Abigail’s hand, ready to leave, but Mrs. Campbell suddenly spoke: “Are you working tonight?”

I nodded, feeling a little awkward.

“Let Abigail stay with me.” She squatted down and looked at Abigail. “We can bake cookies or watch cartoons together. How does that sound, sweetie?”

Abigail looked at me, her eyes sparkling with hope.

“Mrs. Campbell, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Her voice was firm. “To be honest, being with her makes me feel a little better. This house is too quiet.”

I was so grateful I could barely speak. “Thank you so much. I’ll pick her up around three.”

“No rush.” Mrs. Campbell took Abigail’s hand. “We’ll have fun.”

I kissed my daughter goodbye and watched her happily walk into the apartment with Mrs. Campbell. At least tonight, she wouldn’t have to wait for me alone in the storeroom.

The bar was downtown, a twenty-minute bus ride. I got there at six and worked until closing time. Friday nights were always packed. Drunks wanted strong liquor, and girls wanted complicated cocktails.

My feet hurt, and my back ached. But I smiled, mixed drinks, and collected tips.

By two in the morning, I was barely able to stand. I counted my tips in the break room. One hundred seventy dollars. Twenty more than usual.

I could buy Abigail the new shoes she needed. The soles of the ones she was wearing were worn through.

I changed out of my work uniform and put on my jeans and sweater. I grabbed my bag and headed for the back door.

The alley behind the bar was dark. A streetlamp flickered in the distance. I saw them halfway there.

Three men blocking the exit.

I recognized the one in the middle immediately. Mike. That bastard.

“Well, well,” Mike slurred. He was drunk. They all were. “Look who it is.”

I stopped. “Move.”

“Don’t be like that, Sabrina.” He walked closer. His two friends fanned out, surrounding me. “We just want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“See, that’s your problem.” Mike’s smile was ugly. “You think you’re better than everyone else.”

One of his friends laughed. “She does have that attitude.”

“I need to go home.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “My daughter is waiting for me.”

“Your daughter can wait a little longer.” Mike reached out to grab me.

I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what? You’ll call the police?” He laughed. “Tell them what? That your boss wanted to give you a promotion?”

His friends moved closer. I could smell the alcohol on them and see the intent in their eyes.

Shit. This is really bad.

“Last chance,” I said. “Move aside.”

Mike’s expression turned vicious. “I offered you two thousand dollars. I was being nice enough. But now? Now you don’t have a choice.”

He lunged and grabbed my arm.