Read Novel Full Chapter 207: Crazy Mother
Chapter 207: Crazy Mother
Until he realized how late it was and that he had to go home.
Dylan stopped in front of the door, his heart pounding so hard it felt painful. His small body trembled, fear creeping up his spine as he stood there, unable to bring himself to knock or turn the handle.
Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he stayed frozen in place.
The door suddenly swung open. His mother stood there, a bat clutched tightly in her hand.
"I told you not to come home late," she said, her voice sharp and shaking with rage. "Do you not understand my words at all?"
"I-I’m sorry," Dylan whispered. His eyes never left the bat. He already knew how this would end.
"You bastard," she screamed. "You met your father, didn’t you? I know it. You want to leave me too, just like him!"
She lifted the bat high. Dylan’s breath caught in his throat. Panic exploded inside him as he moved on instinct, dodging just in time.
The bat slammed into the wall beside him with a dull crack as he turned and ran.
His mother’s screams echoed behind him, distorted and wild, but he did not dare look back.
Dylan ran until his lungs burned, his legs carrying him anywhere but there. Snow fell on his little body without mercy as he could feel cold stabbed his body.
By the time he stopped, it was already dark. He did not recognize where he was.
Dylan ducked into a narrow alley and sank down against the wall, hugging himself tightly as his body trembled.
He shook from cold, fear, and exhaustion, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Then a hand touched his shoulder. Dylan gasped and nearly screamed, terror shooting through him as he flinched away. But when he looked up, his breath hitched.
"Dad?"
It was his father. He looked healthier than Dylan remembered, his face softer, his smile gentle and familiar. In that moment, he looked like hope itself.
"Dylan?" his father asked quietly. "What are you doing here, son?"
He took off his jacket and wrapped it around Dylan’s shoulders, pulling it close to keep him warm.
"Daddy," Dylan whispered. "Why are you here?"
His father’s expression crumbled. He pulled Dylan into a tight embrace.
"Oh God," he murmured. "I’m sorry. I never should have left you with her."
His voice shook as he held his son closer. "I’m a coward, Dylan. I was too scared to face her."
Dylan’s shaking slowly eased as warmth seeped into his frozen body. This was real. His father was really here.
"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks. "Take me with you. Bring me far away from here."
He clung to him, sobbing now, his small body exhausted beyond its limit.
"Yes," his father said softly. "Yes, of course. I will."
He pulled back just enough to look Dylan in the eyes, smiling gently.
"You are safe now."
His father carried him on his back, just like in the old days, when life had still been gentle and warm.
From up there, Dylan watched the snow drift beneath the street lamps, each flake glowing softly as it fell. It looked like little lights scattered in the air, like fireflies lost in the night.
Wrapped in his father’s jacket, feeling the steady rhythm of his steps, Dylan believed that everything would be fine, at least for tonight.
His father brought him to a small motel not far away. He gave Dylan a cup of hot chocolate to warm his hands and body, then sat beside him and spoke in a low, careful voice.
He told him that he was already engaged, that his life was finally settling down.
"She said you can come with us," his father said after a sip of warm coffee.
He hesitated before continuing. "As for your mother... you don’t have to worry. Your custody will be given to me."
Dylan was still too young to understand what custody meant. What he understood was simple and precious. His mother would never hurt him again. That thought alone filled his chest with light.
The next morning, Dylan went to school in a good mood for the first time in a long while.
His father drove him there and waited until he safely entered the building. Connor and Marcus noticed him immediately.
"Who is that man?" Connor asked. "I’ve never seen him before."
"That’s my dad," Dylan said proudly, a grin spreading across his face. "He said he’s going to take care of me."
Connor groaned dramatically. "Man, does that mean you can’t be my brother anymore?"
"Yeah," Dylan replied, then laughed. "But we can still be best friends."
The three of them made a promise right there, swearing that they would be best friends forever.
That afternoon, Dylan waited for his father to come and pick him up. He had said he would take him to their new house, where his fiancée lived.
Dylan was excited, but his stomach churned with nervous thoughts. What if she did not like him? What if she sent him back?
He practiced in the restroom, standing straight and repeating polite greetings, promising himself that he would be a good boy.
But evening came, and his father never arrived.
Unease crept into Dylan’s chest as he walked back to the motel. At the front desk, he found a letter waiting for him.
"I’m at your mother’s house right now, Dylan. We will eat dinner as a family for the last time."
Dylan scratched his head, confusion twisting into fear. He was happy at the thought of seeing his father again, but dread followed close behind.
What if his mother hurt him again?
He swallowed hard. "Just for this time," he muttered. "It should be fine."
When he arrived home, the sky was already dark. Crows cawed overhead, one of them perched on the roof, watching silently. The house looked larger and more threatening than he remembered.
He knocked.
"Wait for me," his mother called out.
Her voice sounded calm, almost cheerful. The door opened, and she greeted him with a warm smile.
"Oh, Dylan, you finally arrived," she said sweetly. "Come in. Your father is already waiting for you."
The house smelled rich and savory, the scent of stew filling the air. Dylan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
In the dining room, his father was already seated, his head lowered. Dylan could not see his face, but he understood. His father was afraid.
"What are you standing there for?" his mother said, carrying a large pan. "Sit down, just like you used to."
Dylan obeyed. She poured stew into his father’s bowl first, thick and steaming, then served Dylan and herself. The meat looked tender and dark, glistening in the broth.
As his mother returned to the kitchen, Dylan leaned forward slightly.
"Dad," he whispered. "Are you okay?"
"He is fine," his mother said suddenly, appearing beside them. "Don’t fuss. Your father is simply thinking deeply."
She ate with visible pleasure, humming softly, dipping garlic bread into the stew.
"Eat," she said cheerfully. "I have good news to tell you."
Dylan hesitated, then began to eat. The stew was warm and filling, just like always. Yet the meat tasted strange. It was not chicken, not beef. It reminded him of pork, but something was off. He did not dare ask.
"Dylan," his mother said suddenly, smiling wide. "Your father and I decided to get back together. We are a family again."
Dylan froze. His father had told him he was engaged.
"So you don’t have to worry," she continued softly. "We will be together forever."