Kyle let me roam around the house while he was gone today, he probably thought that keeping me in a small room will only make my anxiety worse. All I want is my son back, safe in my arms.

If only we were back in Florida, eating dinner together on the sofa and watching Blues Clues. If only he'd run into my arms when I picked him up after a long day at the diner.

I miss that, so much. That's the kind of life I hoped for Owen, not this bloodthirsty gang.

We weren't well off, even struggling most of the time, but it was all resolving, my pay was getting steady and we were on the right track to a comfortable life.

Owen has so much to give in the world, not take away. With him being trapped here with me, learning to kill, it'll only be taking away his potential. Like with the painting, he's advanced with that. What if he wants to be an artist? I doubt Kyle will allow that, what gang leader enjoys painting?

Owen is also an intelligent young boy, he even began speaking at nine months. It's a bit crazy to think about, but he did it.

Part of me hopes that Kyle will leave this horrible business to raise Owen, but I know he won't. There is no way he'll allow Owen and me to leave again.

So basically, both our futures are fucked.

I'm never going to be the bridal shop owner I've dreamed about since forever, I'm never going to college to get my degree in culinary arts, Owen isn't going to become whatever he wants in life, and he'll grow up around murder and the belief that he can control whomever he pleases—it's all just a mess.

The alarm system chimes around the house, meaning that a door has opened. I rush around the downstairs to find it. My body halts as it nears the front door. Kyle's standing there, but Owen's no where in sight.

"Where is he? Did you get him? Is he okay?" My questions blurt out frantically as I stride forward.

Then, as Kyle answers, I drain his sound out. My eyes catch the head of a child poking out from behind Kyle. My eyes search his, recognition comes to us both.

"Mommy?!" Owen exclaims, pushing off Kyle's legs and sprinting toward me. He'd look all dirty and gross, but I didn't mind. My knees fell forward, smashing onto the hard ground. My arms open, ready to accept the coming hug from my baby boy.

Owen's eyes are fully of tears and so are mine. He launches himself off the marble floor, and into my arms. He begins to cry on my shoulder, hugging me tighter than he ever has before. I hold back on my tears, not wanting Owen to see me cry, but my hand rubs his back, telling him, "You're all right, baby. You are safe now, those bad men won't hurt you again. I promise."

Owen simply nods, wrapping his short legs around me as I begin to stand with him. My eye wander up to Kyle's and he shows an unreadable expression. It's like sad, mad, and happy all at the same time. "Let's get you a bath, hm?" I ask Owen, shifting his weight on my hip. His head bobs before it's stuffed back into my shoulder.

"Do you have a tub?" I question softly, too happy to be angry with Kyle at the moment. He simply nods, motioning for me to follow.

After one set of stairs, and two long hallways, we reach the door to the bathroom. Kyle pushes open the door, revealing the most gorgeous bathroom I've ever seen.

The walls are stone, placed like uneven bricks. All appliances are laced with marble tile, each pattern unique, but matches the theme of the room. As you walk in, a glass and stone shower is right before you, and to the right of you, a tan-tinted counter with a mirror and sink rests against the wall. Walking in further, you see a tiled bathtub right in front of the curtained window.

Then beside that, a vanity is placed and the counter is filled with whatever bathroom things you may need. Connected to that is a bigger counter, with a larger sink and mirror than the last.

I didn't realize that I was lost in thought until Kyle lightly pushes me inside the door. He squeezes past Owen and me, heading to the bathtub. His knees glide to the floor carefully, his hands turning the faucets to a warm temperature.

When the tub is about halfway full, I set Owen down and begin to undress him from the dirty clothes he wore. By time that was finished, the tub was filled, and Kyle had turned off the running water. It was clear that Kyle put in some bubble bath, seeing as the bubbles in the tub were almost covering Owen's small body.

There would be no sign of Owen's unhappiness any longer. He laughed, splashed, and blew on the bubbles. It was refreshing to see him this way, not the crying mess he was before. I've only ever given him a bubble bath once. We ended up using it all, I never really had the money to get another bottle. That was one of my happiest days with Owen, this might be my second.

Kyle sat to the side, watching Owen as I cleaned him of all the dirt and muck. I thanked the Lord after no wounds or scratches were found on his body.

Kyle returned to my side after Owen's scrub-down was complete, remaining silent, as if he were mesmerized by the sight of Owen, which he probably was. Owen, on the other hand, returned to splashing the water around messily.

There was so much peace in these minutes together. No fighting, yelling, anger, or sadness. It was just... calm, it felt like everything just fit together.

"Thank you." I whisper to Kyle while Owen isn't looking.

"No, thank you." Kyle speaks, not taking his eyes off of our son.

How will I ever leave now?