Late one night, Jessy’s stepfather received a panicked call from the eight-year-old, begging to be picked up from her dad’s house without telling her mother. Racing across town, he arrived to find the back door wide open and Jessy trembling in a kitchen covered in cake batter.
Jessy and I have always been close. Ever since her mom and I got married, we’ve built a bond that feels almost like I’ve been in her life forever.
She’s eight now, with bright blue eyes and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. But tonight, something was wrong.
Usually, Jessy loves staying at her dad’s house. It’s not too far from ours, and she enjoys baking and doing little projects with him.
But tonight felt different. It was late, just past 11 p.m., when my phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Jessy’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered right away.
“Jessy? What’s wrong?”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please come and get me.
You have to come now,” she said, sounding terrified. I could hear her sniffling like she had been crying for a while. “And don’t tell Mom.”
My heart dropped.
I tried to stay calm. “Jessy, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I can’t… I just need you to come now,” she begged, her voice shaky.
“Please.”
Before I could say anything else, the call went dead.
I stood frozen for a second, my hand gripping the phone. A thousand thoughts ran through my head. What had scared her so much?
Was she hurt? Was her dad angry? Jessy had mentioned before that her dad used to have a temper, especially before he and her mom split up.
He was supposed to have worked on it, but what if something happened?
I didn’t waste any more time. I grabbed my keys and rushed to the car, my pulse racing. The drive across town felt like a blur.
I pushed the speed limit, my mind jumping from one possibility to the next.
“Stay calm,” I told myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “She’s fine. She just needs you.”
But what if she wasn’t fine?
What if her dad had yelled at her or worse? Jessy had never called me like that before, and it terrified me.
As I drove, I remembered the times Jessy had hinted at how her dad used to get angry. She hadn’t said much, just little comments here and there, but I could tell it still bothered her.
I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, but the knot in my stomach tightened.
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