Motherless

51

Melody

I was jogging before I even realized I'd started running.

The prison entrance loomed ahead of me, all concrete and razor wire, my heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted out. I cut through the front doors, breath sharp, hands already shaking as I pulled my phone out.

I stopped the first officer I saw.

"Excuse me," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Have you seen this girl?"

I held up the screen—Talia's photo. School picture. Soft smile. Innocent.

The officer glanced at it, then at me. "We've had a few minors come through today with adults. You'll need to—"

My stomach dropped.

And then
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him.

Hector.

He was sitting against the wall, knees pulled up, head buried in his lap like he was trying to disappear into himself.

My blood went cold.

"Hector?" I snapped.

He flinched so hard he nearly jumped off the bench.

He looked up, eyes wide, pale, terrified.

"Why are you here?" I demanded. "Why aren't you in school?"

His mouth opened.

Closed.

"I—I—uh—I c-c—" He swallowed hard, hands twisting together. "I—"

My patience shattered.

"Where is Talia?"

His eyes darted toward the visitation doors.

"She's... she's in there," he whispered.

The floor tilted beneath me.

Of course she was.

Of course.

And then like some sick sense of timing the universe loved to play those doors opened.

Talia walked out.

For half a second, relief punched through my chest so hard I almost sagged.

Then the rage hit.

"TALIA!" I shouted.

Heads turned. Guards looked up. Conversations stalled.

She froze.

"I told you," I said, my voice rising with every word, "over and over again not to come here and you did it anyway!" I marched toward her, fury burning straight through me. "Not only that, you skipped school and took a little field trip with an accomplice?"

I turned sharply to Hector.

"And you," I said, disappointment slicing deeper than anger. "I expected more from you. I thought you were good for her. I thought you helped her make better choices. But look at this. Look at where you brought her."

His face crumpled.

Talia stepped forward instantly. "Don't blame him—"

"Enough," I cut her off. "I don't want to hear it."

My chest was heaving now.

"I left work," I snapped, "to chase you two down like you're Bonnie and Clyde? Do you have any idea what kind of call I got? Do you have any idea what this looks like?"

People were staring.

Guards. Visitors. Everyone.

I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing myself to rein it in before I completely lost control.

My voice dropped cold, tight.

"You're causing a scene, Melody," I muttered to myself.

Then, louder, controlled:

"You two are coming with me. Now."

They didn't move fast enough.

"And don't speak," I warned, eyes sharp, "unless I tell you to."

I positioned myself behind them, making damn sure they stayed in front of me as we walked out together.

I kept walking, keys tight in my fist, making sure they stayed close to me.

"Mom," Talia said beside me.

I stopped.

I didn't turn.
I didn't answer.

"Mom," she tried again, softer. "I can't just leave my car."

I spun on her then, my control hanging by a thread.

"Yes, you can," I said flatly. "Because I'm having it towed."

Her face drained of color.

"What?" she snapped. "No—you can't do that."

I didn't hesitate. "Watch me."

She opened her mouth to argue then froze.

A tow truck was already heard pulling into the lot, engine rumbling, bright and unmistakable as it rolled closer.

Her voice broke. "Mom, you can't. That's my car."

I crossed my arms. "I can."

"I need it," she insisted, panic rising. "You can't just—"

"I bought that car for you," I cut in sharply. "Your sweet sixteen. My name is on it. And right now? You've lost the privilege of touching it."

The tow truck backed up with a loud, final beep.

Talia stared at it like it was a death sentence.

Hector stood stiff beside her, eyes glued to the ground, not daring to breathe wrong.

I stepped closer, voice low, deadly calm.

"Get. In. The car."

They hesitated.

"For the last time," I said, opening my door, "get in the car."

This wasn't a debate.
This wasn't a conversation.

It was over.

"Now," I said, voice low and sharp.

Slowly, Talia walked to the car, her shoulders slumped. She opened the door, climbed in, and slumped into the seat like she'd been carrying the weight of the world.

Hector followed after, silent, careful not to make a sound. He slid in beside her, eyes downcast, hands fidgeting in his lap.
I closed my door behind me, slammed it with a finality that echoed through the empty lot.

We sat there for a moment, the sound of the tow truck hooking the car in the background, the heat pressing down on us, the tension so thick it could cut.

No words.

Just the car.
Just us.