DESPERATE

29

On the pitch-black night, Randall felt a lump in his throat and a sting in his eyes. He had nothing left in this world: no home, no family, no hope. The thought of returning to his miserable life and scrounging for scraps filled him with dread. But before he slunk back to the foul-smelling alley, he had to make sure baby Cyrie was safe and sound.

Randall crept back to the house where he had left baby Cyrie on the doorstep. He peered through a window to make sure there was no one around. An overfed tabby cat sprawled on the rug, snoring softly. He circled the house and spotted a big cat door. He squeezed through it and entered the house, careful not to make any noise. The tabby cat woke up and rubbed against him, purring.

He shushed it, but the furry animal only meowed louder. His heart skipped a beat when he heard footsteps on the stairs. “Shut up, Bubbles! You’re going to wake Cyrie up. She’s such a light sleeper. I don’t want to rock her back to sleep again. I'm so tired.” A woman complained.

Randall scanned the room for a good hiding place. He spotted a large cauldron in the corner, covered with a dusty lid. He lifted it and crawled inside, hoping no one would notice. As soon as he did, his body sank into something very icky and mushy. He felt a slimy substance ooze between his fingers and toes. He gagged and tried not to vomit. He never felt so disgusted in his life. The little man cracked the lid open slightly so he could watch the woman.

She poured some milk for the cat in a bowl and turned the coffee machine on. Randall could tell that she hadn’t slept for days. Her hair was a tangled mess and the bags under her eyes were dark and swollen. A loud wail was heard from upstairs. “Dammit, stop crying! You’re getting on my nerves.” She mumbled as she tugged her hair.

“You better not hurt Cyrie or I will make you pay,” Randall thought as he glared at the woman. She gulped down her coffee and put the mug in the sink. Someone rang the doorbell. “Who the hell is that at this hour?” The woman muttered as she left the baby crying and went to see who was at the door.

Randall was furious. The baby was wailing, and the damn woman didn't care. She just went to answer the door.

A man in his 50s stood at the door, looking smug and impatient. He had streaks of gray hair and disheveled clothes that smelled of smoke and alcohol. "Hey, sweetie," he said in a raspy voice. "I bet you weren't expecting me, huh."

"Not now, Ralph. I'm exhausted, and the baby is crying again." The woman snapped.

"Really, I don't get why you're taking care of a baby that's not yours. Give her to the orphanage." The man urged, showing no sympathy or concern.

The woman was tempted by the idea, but she remembered the threatening letter that came with the baby. She didn't want to risk anything happening to her or her toddler. "What do you want?" She asked, trying to sound calm.

"You know what I want. Here, take some cash to buy some diapers for the baby and toys for your toddler. It must not be easy being a single mom," the man said, taking out several bills from his pocket. They were wrinkled and stained, but they were still money.

The woman eyed the money. She really needed it. She had bills to pay and mouths to feed. "What about the baby? She's crying her eyes out. Let me quiet her first."

"No," the man said, shaking his head. "I don't have much time. Let her cry herself to sleep. Take the money or I'll leave. Come on, look at these," the man said, waving the money in front of her face. He smiled wickedly, revealing his crooked teeth.

The woman sighed, feeling defeated. She had no choice. She had to do what he wanted. “Okay, fine, but not in the house. Let's go to your car.”

The man grinned and grabbed the woman's hand. He led her to his car, an old and rusty Buick, parked across the street. He opened the door for her and pushed her inside. Then he followed her and closed the door behind him.

Randall carefully lifted the heavy cauldron from the kitchen and tiptoed to the living room. He rolled on his back on the soft rug, trying to get rid of the sticky, slimy substance that coated his body. He glanced around nervously, hoping no one would hear him.

He cautiously snuck up the stairs to find Cyrie’s room. He poked his head through every door until he spotted the one with the pink curtains and the doll. The baby lay in her crib, peacefully sleeping with a pacifier by her side. He scanned the room for a baby monitor, but there was none. It was safe to enter.

“Hi, Cyrie,” he whispered, waving at her. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him with curiosity. She recognized him, but she was also scared. She started to thrash around in her crib, making soft noises. Randall gently stroked her head to calm her down. “I hope they're not mistreating you, kiddo. I swear I will make them pay. I’m sorry your new mother turned out to be a h-” He stopped himself. He didn't want to say a bad word in front of the baby. Cyrie’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. “Aw, you remember me. I wish I could take you with me, but I can’t. I don’t have a stable home yet. Be a good girl for Papa Randall.”

Randall held her tiny little hand, which had a moon-shaped birthmark on it. His heart sank. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he had to. With tears in his eyes, Randall kissed her on the forehead. She was the only one he had left. Though he couldn't live with her, he made a promise to watch over her and protect her.

Randall glanced at the clock on the wall. He had overstayed his welcome. He heard a loud bang as the door swung open. A chubby little boy toddled in, clutching a stuffed bear. His eyes widened when he saw the little man in the crib. He pointed and giggled. “Toy, toy!” he chanted, as if he had found a new plaything.

Randall sighed and knew it was time for him to leave. He kissed baby Cyrie on the forehead. “I love you, Cyrie,” he whispered softly. Then he jumped out of the crib.

“Bye bye, toy!” The toddler yelled, waving his bear at the little man. He followed him to the door, still laughing.

Randall wasn't worried about being seen by the toddler. The kid could barely talk. He doubted anyone would believe him. He had bigger problems to deal with. He had to go back to the Andera residence and get his belongings. The little man walked away from the house and vanished into the night.

With all the curtains closed, the Andera house seemed different, quiet, and deserted. Randall felt a pang of regret as he realized this was the end of everything. Everyone he knew was gone. If only they had loved and accepted him, he thought. He entered through his secret underground tunnel that led to his room. The silence of the house was oppressive. It wasn't the usual peaceful silence of a sleeping family, but the eerie silence of a deserted place. He gathered everything he could carry and entered the basement. He saw so many unpacked boxes, full of things that would never be used again. He put his belongings down and searched for a can of gas. He found one in the garage and poured it all over the basement, soaking the boxes and the floor.

He grabbed his stuff and headed to the kitchen. He knew he would never taste the delicious food that used to fill the table. He would have to go back to the alley leftovers left by generous people. He wondered if he could find a way to live with baby Cyrie in her home, but he knew that wasn't a good idea. Maybe he would visit her once in a while to make sure she was okay. He opened the fridge and made a quick meal. It was his last meal in this house full of memories, good and bad.

After he had eaten, he went to check on the three covered corpses. They were still there, lying on the floor. He heard a window shatter and a loud thud. He ran toward the noise, but stumbled over something. Was someone trying to rob the place? He didn't want to take any risks. He poured the rest of the gasoline all over the house, making sure to soak the bodies and the furniture. He tossed a match and sprinted outside. The Andera house erupted in flames and there were some explosions from inside. “Good riddance to that ugly Barbie collection,” he muttered.

Randall glanced at the blazing house one last time and returned to his old life, trying to erase everything that had occurred.