"You are my real mommy, Nanny!" little Nicholas exclaimed, his brittle voice choked with tears and emotion as he hugged his nanny. The wide expanse of his room echoed his sobs as he cried out in his nanny's bosom. His small shoulders shook violently, a testament to just how sad he was.
Aside from his sobs, cackling sounds came from the hearth that provided warmth in his room. The burning embers from the hearth cast an amber glow around, and this glow seemed to bring life to everything in the room. The closet, drawers, and even the chair they sat on seemed to move with the flickering amber lights — but Nicholas knew it was only his eyes playing tricks on him. None of them were moving; they had no life. Just like him.
"Hush now, Master Nicholas. You will drain yourself if you cry so much," said the nanny, her voice barely audible, yet so comforting and soothing to Nicholas's ears. Her hands dropped gentle pats on his back and gently massaged his head to help him relax.
Nicholas pulled back slightly to take a proper look at his old nanny who was always around to comfort him. He meant it when he said she was his real mommy. His birth mommy did not care for him as much as his nanny did. His birth mommy wouldn't hold him like this whenever he cried — she would be the reason he cried in the first place.
Just like every other day, today, his mother had locked him up in his room without lights. If not for his nanny, who picked the lock to free him from the darkness, he would still be alone in there.
With the sleeves of his shirt, Nicholas wiped away his tears and positioned himself properly against his nanny, in such a way that his head rested on her chest. He took one of her hands and wrapped it around himself while he played with the fingers on her other hand.
"Nanny, when will you bring me away from this place?" he asked, raising his teary eyes to look at his nanny. "You promised, remember? That you would take me away from here. You promised that I would never have to spend another night here." He was hopeful. He really wanted to leave this place.
The nanny couldn't even form a word as her eyes welled up in tears and her throat tightened. She pitied the child so much that she was moved to tears — but she stopped herself in time before the tears fell. Indeed, she had said and happened to have promised little Nicholas that she would take him away, but that was only to comfort the child. Back then, she had no intention of taking him away from his mother; her promises were mere words meant to make Nicholas happy.
But now…
The child had just called her his mommy and had asked — no, begged — her to take him away. How could she say no to him? But she understood that he was just a child, and children said the most laughable and unreal things.
"Master Nicholas, are you sure you want to leave here? Your home is big and warm, and there are lots of places you can play in. The maids will take care of you, and the bodyguards will be with you every time. It's not wise to leave here."
Nicholas shook his head, stubbornness and resolve evident in his hazel eyes. Everything his nanny said was true — everything except warmth. Sure, they had heaters, he even had a fireplace, but that did not make it any less cold for Nicholas. The maids and bodyguards were too scared of his mother, so they never got too close to him and would only watch him from a distance. Only his nanny made him happy here.
"No! I don't want to live here anymore. I want to go somewhere else with you. Then we will live happily forever — just the two of us!" He took his nanny's hands in his grasp and placed it on his chest.
"You said a promise should never be broken because it would make the heart very sad. Do you want my heart to be sad, Nanny?"
Hearing such innocent words coming from the child's mouth finally broke the nanny, and she burst into tears. Met with such hopeful eyes, no one could possibly say no to Nicholas. So, reaching a decision, the nanny nodded.
"I'll take you from here."
For the first time in a long time, Nicholas's lips curled up in a smile, revealing his pearly white teeth and his prominent elongated canines. His whole being bubbled with excitement and happiness, which was evident in his hazel eyes, and he hugged his nanny.
"Thank you so much, Nanny."
The light coming from the moon outside into the room showed on their happy faces. They painted a picture of a happy mother and son — but in reality, they were not. Paintings could be very deceitful.
Soon, two people stepped out of Nicholas's room: one little boy and an older lady. The nanny had a black shawl around her head and shoulders while Nicholas wore a thick sweater with a beanie covering his head. The nanny's heart pounded with every step she took, and even the child she was carrying could tell that she was scared. He patted her shoulders lightly and flashed her a reassuring smile.
Soon, step after step, Nicholas and his nanny were outside the house. They had made their way past the bodyguards without being noticed until they were outside the building. The nanny smiled at Nicholas. It was unlike the usual smile she always gave him. It was a smile of renewed hope — a courageous smile. A smile that promised a new life. A new beginning for Nicholas and his new mommy.
But then again, hoping and wishing alone wouldn't get one anywhere. Sometimes, even going as far as taking action — like Nicholas and his nanny — would only take you so far.
As both of them happily walked away, with the thought that they had left it all behind, a shot rang out, and in an instant, their smiles faded.
The nanny's heart was now a compartment for a bullet, and her clothes were soaked with her blood.
Nicholas froze. His eyes widened, and his palms turned cold. He wasn't like every other child his age. He knew what death was, and he could identify it when he saw it. He knew that his nanny was dead.
Silence enveloped him, and he felt his head spin as the metallic scent of blood reached his nostrils. And in that silence, he heard the sound of heels clicking against the pavement — and that sound was coming closer and closer to him.
Nicholas needed not look to know who it was. He would recognize his mother's footsteps anywhere.