The Beginning

Tess

"I don't want to go, Miss Bowen." Javon linked his arms about my neck and compressed me to the point that I thought we'd morph into one person.

"I know you don't, buddy. I know." I smoothed my hand over loose curls, then cradled the back of his head.

"Hey best friend." Silas squatted to our level.

I felt Javon shift to look at him. "Who're you?" he questioned abrasively.

"This is my best friend, Si." I introduced, muffled in his embrace. "You remember Uncle Nicky? This is his cousin."

Javon slowly relaxed his arms. One fell to turn his body toward Silas, the other kept a death grip on my shirt. His sable doe eyes glanced over Silas a couple times before he murmured, "I'm Javon."

"It's nice to meet you, Javon." Silas held out hand.

Reluctantly, Javon took a finger and shook it from side to side.

"Why don't you want to go home?" Silas asked softly.

Javon turned his head into my neck. "My dad won't let me keep my toys." He admitted meekly. "He's going to throw them away."

Silas looked at me for confirmation.

I could only return a shallow somber nod.

"We can't let that happen, can we?" Silas's thumb ran across each of Javon's knuckles. "You want me to talk to him?"

"No!" Javon recoiled. His tiny hand folded into my chest and down the front of my button up.

"It's okay." I cooed, trying to get his cold hand off my bare skin. "Silas helped me take care of my bully." I offered comfortingly.

"He's going to get extra mad at me." Javon's fearful whimper severed my heart into a million pieces. "He's going to come back and it's going to be badder."

"Javon," Silas claimed his attention, "I promise he won't ever hurt you again. He's not going to throw away your toys, he's not going to yell at you--"

"I don't have to put my knees on the rice?" Javon asked hopefully, though his voice was pained.

Silas's nostrils flared. His mouth twisted into a snarl. "Say that again?" He managed in a kind tone.

"When I be bad, Dad puts rice on the floor. I have to stay there until I don't cry." Javon thought for a second. "Or until I don't be bad."

Brows knitted, Silas promised, "He's not going to do that to you ever again."

A heavy-set man with dark tinted glasses walked toward us. His grey shirt stained with, what I could only guess was, greasy fast food and consecutive days of wear.

Javon tensed in my arms and tried to pull himself closer. As he anticipated, the man tried to pry him free. An overwhelming scent of alcohol wafted over us.

There was nothing I could do to stop his father from taking him right then.

"Hey man." Silas rose to his feet.

"Let's go, Javon." His stepdad attempted a sweet tone.

"I'm Silas." Holding out a strong hand, Silas was welcomed with a firm shake.

"Javon." Rather than a cordial introduction, attention was turned back to the frightened child.

"You don't drink, do you?" Silas brought the man's gaze back to his own.

"No." He replied shortly.

Silas's lip curled at the lie, but he suppressed it, his lips flattening. "That's too bad. We're having free drinks tonight at six for the adults who do. If you know someone who's interested, let them to know to meet us down at The Dropped Flask."