Devil You Know (Lost Boys Book 1)

By: L.A. Fiore



My horsey was brown with a white spot on his head. The ride went around and around and Mommy waved every time we went by. Daddy’s big hands were on my back so I didn’t fall off and he lifted me from the horse when the ride was over.

Mommy was waiting for us. “Did you see us, Mommy?”

She was looking at Daddy and smiling. She always smiled at Daddy and hugged him and kissed him. I was glad she didn’t do that to me because it was gross.

“How about some ice cream, pal?” Daddy asked.

“Chocolate chip!”

“You got it.”

Mommy wrapped her arm around Daddy, resting her head on his arm.

“Mommy, are you getting ice cream too?”

She didn’t answer me. She never did. She was too busy staring at Daddy and smiling.



Mommy was crying again. She was crying a lot lately, and shouting at Daddy. She used to be so happy with Daddy. I wished it were like how it used to be.

“Hey, buddy.” Daddy walked into my room. He was big. I had to look all the way up to see his face. “You okay?”

“Mommy is crying again.”

He sat next to me on my bed. “I’m going away, pal.”

A trip! I loved riding in the car. “Can I come?”

“No. I tried, I really did. Thing is, both Mommy and Daddy want you, but Mommy is sad. You can make Mommy happy again, right?”

I missed Mommy’s smile. She always smiled when Daddy was around, and I looked just like him. Maybe I could make her happy again. “I think so.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Where are you going?”

He stood and looked down at me. Mommy wasn’t the only one who was sad. “Just away.”

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not coming back. It’s going to be you and Mommy from now on.”

I didn’t understand. Why was Daddy leaving? Was that why Mommy was crying so much? Why couldn’t I go with him? My lower lip started to shake, but I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of my daddy.

“You’re the man of the house now, Damian.” He leaned over and kissed my head, his big hand stayed on my cheek for a second before he turned and walked out. I wanted to be the man of the house for him, but he was the one who played with me, who talked to me, who tucked me in at bedtime. Mommy didn’t, Mommy never had. I jumped from my bed and ran after him.

“Take me with you. Daddy, take me with you.”

“I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry.”

“Daddy, please take me with you.”

Mommy wailed as Daddy reached the front door, but I just stood in the hall and watched as he walked out. Mommy dropped to the floor, and I was scared at how sad she was, but I was the man of the house now. I walked over and kneeled down next to her.

“It’ll be okay, Mommy. I’ll take care of you.”

“Go away.” She pushed me and I fell back on my butt. “Just go away.”



Daddy had been gone for almost a whole year. He used to call every week at the same time and I would sit in the chair in the kitchen and wait for his call. After a few weeks he started calling every other week and then every month and now he didn’t call at all. I asked Mommy for his address so I could write to him, we were learning how to write letters in school, but she wouldn’t give it to me. When she wasn’t crying she was mean, saying things to me I didn’t understand but knew were bad. And then there were times when she was nice and she would talk to me like she cared. One time she even touched my cheek like Daddy used to do. I was so happy that she was happy I drew her a picture in art class and couldn’t wait to bring it home to show her. That day she was in her room; she stayed in her room a lot after Daddy left.

“Mommy?”

She smiled at me and I felt full inside. “What do you have there?”

I walked to her bed. “I made this for you.” I had spent days on it. It was the merry-go-round, the last really good memory I had of my daddy and mommy and me.

She touched the paper and her eyes got all wet. “It’s beautiful.”

She looked at me and touched my cheek again. “You look just like him.”

I puffed up my chest because I wanted to be just like my daddy.

“Thank you, Damian. I love your picture.”

“Do you want to watch TV with me?”

“Maybe later. I need to sleep.”

“Okay.”

I walked to the living room, but for the first time since Daddy left I felt like the man of the house because I had made my mommy smile.

Two days later I found my painting in the trash can. She threw away my picture. It was the first time I felt a pain in my tummy that hurt and it was the first time I cried myself to sleep, but it wouldn’t be the last.

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