Chapter 6: Noah Holds the Dinosaur Against His Chest
Noah kept the stuffed dinosaur pressed against his chest with one arm and the phone balanced in both hands. The dinosaur’s felt head rested beneath his chin, its green fabric darkened where his fingers had gripped it. The phone remained connected. I could hear the faint, steady presence of my father through the small speaker, though he did not speak again. The call had become a thin line between our kitchen and somewhere beyond the house.
Noah had found that line when I could not. He had pulled the phone from beneath the fallen chair, found the contact marked with the fishing-boat emoji, and made the call while I lay on the tile trying not to breathe too deeply. He was five years old. His knees were on the floor beside my hip, and one pajama knee had picked up a smear of dust from under the chair. He looked serious, not confused. That frightened me more than crying would have.
I moved my hand toward him. The effort tightened my side until the room blurred at the edges.
Noah immediately leaned closer, keeping the phone away from my fingers as if it were something fragile. The dinosaur stayed locked against his ribs. He had chosen what to hold first: the thing that comforted him, and the thing that might save us.
The kitchen light flickered overhead. Each brief darkness changed the room. In one flash, I saw the broken chair on its side. In the next, the bank app still open on the phone’s other screen before the call had taken over. Evan’s control had reached into money, the house, and now the small device in Noah’s hands. I understood that the phone was more than a way to summon my father. It carried the record of what had happened and the proof that I had tried to get help.
From the hallway came a shift of weight.
Noah’s head turned toward the sound. His fingers tightened around the dinosaur until its cloth body bent under his hand. I wanted to tell him to stay behind me, but I could not make the words come. I could barely keep my eyes open. The only thing I could do was put my arm across the floor between us, making a barrier that my body could not make standing.
The shadow at the kitchen entrance lengthened as Evan moved closer. I saw the edge of his work jacket first, then his boot. He did not rush. That was part of the danger. His return had the measured quality of a decision already made.
Noah shifted onto his knees. He tucked the phone against his stomach, pinned between his pajama shirt and the dinosaur, protecting it from view. I reached for his sleeve and caught the fabric near his elbow.
He looked at me. His eyes were wide, but he did not pull away.
I dragged myself backward by inches, using the leg of the fallen chair for leverage. Pain spread through my side, hot and deep. The movement carried Noah with me because I held his sleeve, and he crawled rather than stand. We moved toward the hallway wall, away from the open center of the kitchen, but the wall left us with nowhere else to go.
May you like
Evan’s boot crossed the threshold.
The phone’s screen brightened against Noah’s chest. The active call remained visible for one second before his small hand covered it. My father was still listening. Noah was still holding the dinosaur. I closed my fingers more tightly around his sleeve and pulled him behind my shoulder as Evan reached for him.
