Page 1 of Demon
ONE
IVY – A FRESH START
Ivy
With a beaming smile,Sammy says, “Mom, thanks for decorating my room. It lookssogood.”
I lean down and brush a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “It does, doesn’t it?” I glance around at her new bedroom—a bed in the middle, a unicorn poster on the wall, and her toys neatly lining the shelves and corners of the room.
“Will Daddy be visiting?”
My heart drops, but I manage a smile. “I’m not sure, honey.”
When she starts playing with her toys, I leave and take a seat on the couch in the living room.
Sammy and I moved to Crown Village two days ago. I needed a fresh start—far from her father, Richard, or as I call him, Dickhead. He’s been a toxic presence in our lives, showing up only when he needed money to cover his gambling debts. It took months of planning—interviews at the hospital, house hunting, and researching childcare options—but here we are. The move wasn’t easy, but staying where we were wasn’t an option.
Holly, my closest friend, is the only person who knows where we’ve moved. It’s too risky to tell anyone else. Richard’s presence was never consistent, and his pattern of asking for money and disappearing made it hard on Sammy. Still, for years, I held on to hope that he’d change. I wanted Sammy to experience having a father, but things spiraled. The debts grew, and the people he associated with became more dangerous. The last time he showed up, he had a black eye, which was enough for me to realize we needed to leave.
I want so much more for Sammy. At five years old, she’s been remarkably resilient through this transition. Despite leaving her friends behind, she’s still her cheerful, vibrant self. Sometimes, I wonder how I got so lucky to be her mom. Having her as my daughter has been my greatest gift, and though I had her at nineteen, she’s become my best friend. Before her, I didn’t understand what unconditional love truly meant.
Sammy skips into the living room and hops onto my lap, her grin lighting up my mood. “Mom, can we get ice cream? I’m hungry,” she says, rubbing her belly for added effect.
I chuckle. “I’m hungry too. Ice cream sounds perfect.”
We head out to explore a nearby café I found online, with glowing reviews. The moment we walk in, we’re greeted by the aroma of fresh coffee. Black-and-white checkered tiles stretch across the floor, posters of Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley adorn the walls, and a jukebox in the corner plays an Elvis Presley song.
Sammy gasps and pulls me toward the counter. Her eyes widen as she stares at the rows of colorful ice cream flavors behind the glass.
“There are so many!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “How am I supposed to choose?”
“They do look yummy,” I say, holding back a laugh as my stomach growls. “We should grab some lunch, too.”
Her eyes gleam as she decides. “Chicken nuggets and fries and... the rainbow ice cream!”
I raise a brow. “What else do you say?”
“Please, Mom?” she adds with an innocent smile.
“Better.”
After placing our order, we pick up our ice cream and find a nearby seat. Sammy digs into her dessert, slurping as swirls of yellow and pink ice cream color the corners of her lips.
“Can we come here every day?” she asks.
I give a small shake of my head, grinning at her optimism. “Not every day, but maybe once a week. It can be our special treat.”
She ponders for a moment before sighing dramatically. “Okay, just once a week.” She looks up at me, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Where am I going tomorrow while you’re at work?”
“There’s a babysitter in the house across the street.” I did extensive research, including looking at the woman’s comprehensive background check and calling up her past clients.
By the time we finish lunch and head home, I’m ready to tackle the last of the unpacking. Later, I message the babysitter to confirm we can meet before Sammy stays with her the next day. She messages back to say she’s available.
“Sammy, let’s go and meet the babysitter.” With her hand in mine, we cross the street. I double-check the number. A lady with short brown hair who looks around fifty is standing in the doorway of the small redbrick home.
“I’m Ivy and this is Sammy,” I say when we reach her.
She offers me a warm smile. “I’m Sandra.” She crouches so that she’s at Sammy’s level. “Nice to meet you. I hope you’re excited about tomorrow. We’ve got plenty of things to do.”
