Chapter 29

Jeremy didn't want to wake up from the comfy bed. Though he wasn't in deep sleep, he remained on the bed with his eyes closed. If someone wouldn't get him off the bed, he wasn't anticipating getting off of it by himself.

As if the bed had magically grown thorns, Jeremy jumped up from his sleeping position when he realised he had climbed into the trunk of a car and not onto a gigantic bed. He darted his eyes around his surrounding, discovering that the room was ten times bigger than all the rooms at his grandparents' house. The room had some level of darkness because the spider silk curtain, which he assumed was purple, was closed. He knew the room was big, because he could see through the gray darkness; the bed was so large, and, not forgetting to mention, comfy.

Jeremy sat on the bed contemplating how he had gotten into the room. He remembered getting into the trunk of a yellow car whose name he didn't know. But it was luxurious, though. And it was the only car trunk that was opened in the parking lot.

He didn't know if he could consider himself lucky or if his aunt Amira had found him sleeping in the car and brought him to her house.

From the look of the surrounding, Jeremy doubted that it was his aunt's house. But he gave it a second thought because he discovered she was into child trafficking. Not many children may have been lucky like him to hear her talking to the buyer on the phone, or smart enough to understand the conversation. Good for him he got his way out of it before the buyer could arrive at the mall.

He saw the buyer. He even remembered the face of the buyer —the man who had been hurrying to go talk to his aunt —because the man hit him when he was tying his shoelaces. Good thing the man didn't know he was the one his aunt had on the shelf.

Jeremy wondered why his aunt had to be involved in such a business. Couldn't she find a decent job that would've given her clean money? Also, why did she even want to sell her only nephew because of money? Did she know what the buyer would do to the children after purchasing them? Who knows if they were used for rituals, or their important organs were extracted and sold in the black markets.

Aunt Amira wasn't the angel that she appeared to be. She was a heartless child trafficker, and a gold digger. A monster in disguise..

There was a swirling hatred inside of Jeremy for her, now. He despised her for trying to sell him and for killing his grandmother, too, and those children that were victimised. Jeremy hated the moments he loved her.

Jeremy had the strong feeling that she killed his grandmother and put the corpse in a place that couldn't be discovered easily. His grandfather was definitely worrying about the both of them at the moment. Jeremy knew that for sure.

Jeremy was thinking so hard when the room door gently swung open. He slid back under the duvet. From under the duvet, he heard the sound of shoes hitting against the marble tiles in the room. The sun's ray spread all around the room when whosoever it was that had entered the room drew the curtains apart.

"He's still asleep," a masculine voice said from the window. "Do you want me to wake him up?" The voiced asked.

This time, it was a feminine voice that responded. "It's OK, Gibson. You can leave now."

The man walked back to the door. "Ma'am, I don't mean to interfere, but aren't you going to report this to the police?" He inquired. "Just to be on the safe side."

"I know." She sighed. "But I want to know if he's a missing kid or a homeless one. I have to interrogate him before taking him to the police station. With the kind of catastrophe in my family, nobody will want to believe that I didn't know a kid was in my car until I got home. They will frame it. So I will ask him then take him to the police station."

To the police station? Did he do something wrong? Was she going to give him to the police for them to put him in the same room with the bad guys?

His grandma told him that the police station was meant for people who did something wrong.

Jeremy had just been relieved that he wasn't in his aunt's house, and was probably far away from her reach. But what he heard changed his whole mood. He couldn't stay under the quilt forever, until they take him to jail. He had to come out and defend himself; tell them everything.

"Please don't take me to the police station," Jeremy pleaded, coming from under the duvet, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong. I am not a bad guy." He cried as the words came out of his mouth. The tears in his eyes made it difficult for him to see them clearly.

The woman climbed on the bed and sat down next to him. "Don't cry. I know you're a good boy. Don't cry," she stated soothingly, patting his shivering body and wiping his eyes that continously released tears. "Excuse us, Gibson," she said to the man who was wearing an archaic tail coat. Gibson nodded and walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

"Please don't take me to the police station. I don't want them to put me in jail with the bad guys." Jeremy started begging again when Gibson left the room, crying his eyes out.

Rachael patted him. She put his head on her chest and rested her chin on it; comforting him. After few minutes of comforting him, he stopped crying and wrapped his hands around her. Rachael had never felt like that before and didn't know if she would ever do.

"It's OK. Don't cry again, OK?" She said into his head and he nodded. "I'm never taking you to the police station, no matter what, OK?" He nodded again.

After embracing each other for a long moment, they let go, finally. Rachael pressed a button beside the lamp, and Gibson came back inside few minutes later.

"OK...uhm... What's your name?" She asked him, smiling at him so he couldn't get nervous or scared.

"Jeremy," he retorted in the after–crying voice, struggling to return the genuine smile.

"Alright, Jeremy, tell Gibson what you want to eat for breakfast. Anything," Rachael added when Jeremy's face lifted with amazement.

Joyfully, he said, "I want egg sandwich, a warm glass of milk, chocolates and many fruits. Also," he began when Gibson was about to leave, "I want soft rice with enough condensed milk and sugar in it."

Rachael gleefully watched Jeremy place in his order. She wondered if he had such a large stomach to consume all of what he was calling for.

Gibson left the room and came back few minutes with everything that Jeremy had ordered. He placed it on the small table in the room. Jeremy hurriedly got off the bed and sat in one of the chairs that was next to the table.

Rachael, smiling, watched him eat. He took a bite of everything one at a time.

"So, Jeremy." Rachael got up from the bed and walked to him. She sat in the other chair. To her surprise, he held his hand up, signalling her to wait for him to finish chewing. "How did you end up in the back of my car?"

"I was running away," he replied, sitting up straight.

"From whom?" She asked with furrowed brows. So many questions formed in her mind from the smart answer that Jeremy gave her.

"My aunt Amira. She killed my grandma, and kidnapped me so she could sell me." The information shocked Rachael to the core. But he was too small to know all that he was saying, so she doubted a little.

"How did you know all of this?" She asked him.

"We were at the mall when I heard her telling someone over the phone that she had to kill her mom, my grandma, so she could get me. She was about to sell me to a man when I ran away to look for somewhere to hide. Your trunk was opened, so I entered," Jeremy explained, drinking a large portion of the milk at the end of his explanation.

"How old are you, Jeremy?" Rachael had to ask him. From the way he talked, it seemed as if he was an adult in a child's body.

He waited for the soft rice in his mouth to go down before answering. "I'm seven."

Seven? He was really an intelligent kid if he was seven.

"So, Jeremy, do you know anybody else that I can contact? Like your mom or dad?"

Jeremy's expression saddened. "Only my grandpa. My mom isn't alive. She passed. As for my dad, I don't know anything about him."

Rachael felt sorry for the kid. He was really a strong kid to know all of that and still be lively.

"OK... I will have to take you to the police station so—" She stopped when Jeremy's facial expression changed. He was at the verge of crying again. "No... I'm not taking you to put you in jail. I have to get the police involved so they can help you get back to your grandfather. They will put it on the media for him to come get you," Rachael explained to Jeremy.

"Please don't do all that. I don't want my aunt Amira to find me again. She will go for me to my grandfather's house and kill him too. Please don't take me back. Aunt Amira is a bad person," he begged her. He was going on his knees when Rachael stopped him.

"Don't worry. Your aunt Amira won't get to you again. I promise to protect you and take good care of you. I will find a way to get to your grandfather, OK? Your aunt Amira will be sent to prison." Rachael assured him.

"Thank you, aunt. You are a good person." Jeremy hugged her.

The door swung open. Gibson walk in. "Seems like you two are getting along well," he said smiling. Both of them nodded and returned the smile. "Ma'am, your brother is here," he informed Rachael.

"Bring him in," Rachael said.

A/N

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