At home, Anthony could not focus on anything as anxiety consumed him, and he checked his phone repeatedly without relief. At 8:30 that night, his phone rang from an unknown number, and a frightened voice introduced herself as Rachel Simmons, a neighbor living next to Gloria.
“Your son is here,” she said breathlessly. “He ran into my house and he is covered in blood.”
Anthony’s world collapsed instantly as he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door without another thought. “Is he conscious?” he demanded urgently while already driving at dangerous speed.
“He is hiding and shaking, he keeps saying not to let them find him,” Rachel answered, her voice trembling. “Please come quickly.”
When Anthony arrived, police cars and an ambulance filled the driveway as flashing lights painted the scene in chaos. He rushed inside and dropped to his knees near the bedroom where Evan was hiding under the bed, his small body trembling violently.
“Evan, it’s me, I’m here,” Anthony called gently, forcing calm into his voice. “You are safe now, I promise you are safe.”
“They will be mad,” Evan whispered from the darkness, his voice barely audible. “They said I cannot tell anyone.”