The Devil Wore a Child’s Smile

I guess I’d been too tense because once I relaxed, I passed out cold.

In my dreams, I was right back in that past life again.

Tyrell’s twisted grin kept flashing before my eyes.

When I woke up, I was drenched in sweat, and the car had already pulled up to our building.

Alfie hopped out, full of energy, heading upstairs.

That’s when my phone rang—it was the orphanage director.

“Mr. Lyttleton? Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to let you know. Someone’s adopted Tyrell. Since you’ve been supporting him for a while, I thought you should hear it from me.”

I couldn’t care less about Tyrell at this point.

I just muttered something, said I got it, and hung up.

‘Guess he’s found a new target now. Hopefully they won’t end up like I did in my last life. I’ve done all I can.’

Back home, I helped my son wash up and get to bed.

But I couldn’t sleep. Tossed and turned until three in the morning.

Then came the knocking.

The knock was loud and repetitive. I sat up in a panic.

Cecily woke up too, heading for the door.

I stopped her fast, put a finger to my lips.

I crept to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Tyrell’s eyes—cold and intense—stared straight back at me.

My whole body went weak. I had to cover my mouth to stop from gasping.

But he didn’t leave.

After two minutes of silence, his voice came through, choking up and crying.

“Sir… Ma’am… I know y’all in there. Please… please help Tyrell.

“My adoptive folks took me home and started beatin’ on me—nonstop. I barely got out alive. If y’all don’t help me, they gon’ drag me back… and I’m not makin’ it out again.

“Sir, Ma’am… I’m beggin’ you! I’m on my knees right now!”

I had no idea how he even found our place.

Cecily, in a panic, was about to open the door. But I quickly blocked her.

Shouting through the door, I said, “Tyrell, we’re already asleep. The director said you’ve been adopted. Legally, we’re not your guardians! If your adoptive parents accuse us of kidnapping, we’d never be able to clear our names!

“You should go back. We really can’t help. Alfie has school tomorrow. Please stop shouting.”

Cecily looked at me, frowning.

“Finch, don’t you think you’re being a bit too paranoid? He’s just a kid, and he can’t even walk. What could he possibly do?

“It’s just one night. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take him to the police department. We can find him a new home or send him back to the orphanage.”

She reached for the lock again—I shoved her back a good two meters.

“Did you even think about this? If his legs don’t work, how did he find our place? And how the hell did he get to the 15th floor?! There’s no wheelchair ramp downstairs!”

Cecily froze.

It hit her instantly.

Outside, Tyrell’s cries got louder, drawing attention.

He started tearing his clothes, showing off all the bruises and injuries.

The neighbors began whispering.

“Whose kid is that? Poor thing looks beat up… Didn’t this family just get back this afternoon? Why won’t they open the door?”

Tyrell, looking pitiful, told them he was an orphan, that we used to help him, and now he had nowhere else to go but our place.

Hearing that, the neighbors started knocking on our door too.