Are You Alright, Madam?

Sophia gasped softly, clamping a hand over her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. The gravity of Natasha’s threat hit her like a freight train. She had to get Michael out of here. Now.

Retreating quietly from the door, Sophia turned and bolted down the corridor, her feet moving faster than her mind could process. Her breathing was ragged, her chest tight with panic as she reached the guestroom. She pushed the door open, her eyes immediately landing on the crib where Michael lay, blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed over him.

Sophia shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. "We have to go," she whispered, her voice trembling. She wiped at the tears streaming down her face, her mind racing.

Michael stirred slightly in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips. Sophia approached the crib, her hands trembling as she reached down to gently stroke his cheek. "Mommy’s here," she said softly, her voice breaking. "But we can’t stay here, baby. We can’t."

Her thoughts raced as she began to pack the essentials into a small bag. Diapers, bottles, a change of clothes for both of them. Her hands shook so badly she dropped one of Michael’s onesies, letting out a frustrated sob as she bent to pick it up.

"We’ll be okay," she whispered, more to herself than to Michael. "We have to be."

She glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:27 AM. The sun was starting to rise, its golden rays spilling into the room and casting a warm glow over Michael’s crib. For a moment, she allowed herself to pause, to look at her son and draw strength from his peaceful innocence.

But Natasha’s voice echoed in her mind, cold and unyielding. "I’ll kill him."

Sophia’s jaw clenched. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. With a deep breath, she lifted Michael from the crib, cradling him against her chest. His small hand curled around a lock of her hair, and for the first time that morning, she felt a flicker of calm.

"Mommy’s got you," she murmured. "We’ll get out of here. We’ll be safe. I promise."

With one last glance around the room, Sophia adjusted the bag on her shoulder and stepped out into the corridor. She moved quickly but quietly, her senses on high alert. She couldn’t risk running into Cedric or Natasha. Not now.

As she approached the front door, she gripped the handle with trembling fingers, her eyes darting nervously across the room. The moments felt like hours as she hesitated, her heart pounding in her ears.

When she finally pulled the door open, she stepped outside onto the driveway of the building. The cool night air brushed against her face as she held Michael tighter, whispering a silent prayer.

They were leaving. They had to. There was no turning back.

\--------------------

Moments Later...

Sophia adjusted the thin shawl draped over her shoulders as the cool, damp air of dawn clung to her skin. The asphalt road cutting through the dense woods was eerily silent, save for the soft crunch of her sneakers against the gravel and the rhythmic chirping of crickets. She clutched Michael tightly to her chest, her arms trembling— not from exhaustion but from fear. His tiny face, framed by a mop of dark curls, rested peacefully against her chest. Oblivious. Blissfully unaware of the danger looming over their lives.

The frogs in the nearby pond croaked intermittently, their guttural songs blending with the rustling leaves overhead. But Sophia’s ears were tuned to any other sound— the snap of a branch, the growl of an engine— anything that might indicate Cedric or Natasha had tracked her down. She couldn’t afford to stop. Her heart pounded in her chest, a relentless drumbeat urging her to keep moving.

“Just a little farther, sweetheart,” she whispered softly, her lips brushing against Michael’s forehead. His steady breathing reassured her, though it couldn’t drown out the frantic voice in her head screaming, Run faster.

The woods seemed endless, the winding road leading her deeper into its embrace. Her legs burned with each step, but she pressed on, her grip on Michael tightening every time the thought of Natasha’s threat crossed her mind. I’ll kill him, Natasha’s venomous words echoed, slicing through the quiet like a blade. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickened her pace, her shoes scuffing against the asphalt.

By the time the road gave way to the sprawling campus of Ivry Hall College, the sun had climbed higher, its golden light painting the buildings in soft hues. Students were beginning to stir, some jogging along the pathways, others heading toward the main hall with books clutched to their chests. Sophia slowed her pace, her breath hitching as she scanned the unfamiliar faces. Her feet ached, her arms were heavy from carrying Michael, but she dared not stop until she found a safe spot to think.

She spotted a bench near the bus stop, its stone surface slick with morning dew. Reluctantly, she sat down, adjusting Michael so he remained nestled in her arms. Her muscles screamed in protest as she leaned back, her head resting against the cool metal of the bus shelter.

Sophia reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out her phone. The cracked screen lit up faintly in the sunlight as she squinted to check the time. “8:42 a.m.,” she murmured. A sigh escaped her lips as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

The steady flow of students passing by barely registered as her mind churned with possibilities. "Should I go back to my old dormitory?" she wondered aloud, her voice barely audible over the hum of morning activity.

“No, that’s a bad idea,” she immediately countered, shaking her head. The image of Mary, her former roommate, flashed in her mind. Mary, with her false smile and cunning eyes, always knew how to manipulate a situation to her advantage. Sophia grimaced. "She hasn’t changed," she muttered. "She’s a viper, always will be."

She rubbed her temples, trying to push away the overwhelming tide of doubt and fear. "Be smart, Sophia," she scolded herself quietly. The weight of her predicament pressed down on her chest, threatening to suffocate her.

Digging back into her pocket, she pulled out her phone again, this time opening her banking app. The numbers on the screen stared back at her: $54.08. Her stomach sank, a hollow feeling settling in her gut. "What am I going to do with this?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain. Her fingers trembled as she shoved the phone back into her pocket, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Are you alright, madam?" a voice broke through her thoughts, soft yet tinged with concern.