by Callie Rae
“What are you doing, man?” Cason asks Jordan from over my shoulder. “This isn’t a path you want to go down. You won’t win. Talking is the only way out.”
Jordan’s eyes narrow at Cason, and I can see the jealousy in them. Jealousy can make a man do stupid things, and Jordan obviously isn’t immune to it. Keeping his mouth shut and his lips pressed into a thin line is about as fucking stupid as he can get.
“Let’s try this again. Where. The. Fuck. Is. She.” With each word I slam him into the truck even harder. Tick, tick, tick. My control is almost gone.
“Fuck! Alright. Alright!” he hisses as he swallows down the pain he’s trying to hide from all the prying eyes. He isn’t hiding it well.
“I thought I saw Jade getting sick on the side of the barn that night. I told Fallon. I think she went to check on her.”
“Are you sure about that?” I say.
I grab his collar a little tighter so it squeezes his throat and makes it harder for him to breath, but not enough to keep him from being able to talk—yet. “I swear man, that’s all. After that I walked off with my girl. Then the next thing I knew, you were searching for her.”
“If that’s it, why didn’t you speak up that night?” I growl tightening his collar a little bit more.
“I didn’t think about it. Jade seemed fine, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.” His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse.
I slam into the truck once more, with even more force than before. “You didn’t think that I would need to know that you sent my girl outside? Are you fucking stupid?”
“I swear, man!” he manages to croak out.
“What about Marcus? Do you know where he is?” I ask.
“Marcus?” Jordan asks as he attempts to pull my hands away from his neck.
“Marcus Hennings. He’s been rolling with Jax,” I say with a tug on his collar.
“I don’t know a Marcus.” I squeeze even tighter. “I swear! I don’t fucking know him!”
Jordan’s face turns red, then purple. Sweat beads down his face. He reaches up to his neck, trying desperately to pry my hands away as he opens his mouth and tries unsuccessfully to gasp for air. I’ve wrapped his collar so tight that it’s cut off his airflow. But for good effect I tighten it even more, pulling it so tight I can see it digging into his skin.
“Jesse,” Cason warns. He knows I’m losing it. I think he’s here more to help keep me in check than anything else. To make sure I don’t go too far. And right now, watching this dude lie to my face, I’m so tempted. But for Fallon’s sake I’m going to need him alive.
I lean in close to Jordan’s ear and I growl, “If you’re fucking lying to me, if I find out you had more to do with her disappearance than you are saying, I’m coming for you. And you won’t walk away. It’ll be a lot like this moment right now, where you won’t be breathing. Only next time, I won’t let go.”
I drop him to the ground, leaving him gasping for the air I withheld from his body. I don’t bother checking to make sure he’s alright. I’m already halfway back to the Jeep before Cason catches up. His chick is leaning against the vehicle with a smirk on her face. She enjoyed seeing this part of our world; I can tell by the darkness dancing in her eyes and the want spread across her face as she watched. She stands straight as I get closer, but her eyes trail over my shoulder to the scene behind me.
“Can I get a ride?” Narni calls behind me, and I glance back just as Goose responds. He motions for her to go with them with a jerk of his head toward his truck bed. Narni looks to me with a cocked brow and asks, “We done here?”
I don’t need her anymore, so I nod. She takes off towards Goose’s truck, and when she reaches him, she slides on to the tailgate and he hands her a beer.
“Thanks for the show.” She raises her beer to us. Cason chuckles with a shake of his head and walks back to the driver’s side. I meet his eyes over the hood and the smirk instantly dissolves from his face.
I watch him. He holds my level stare, but there is something there. He’s trying to hide it from me. He’s not ready for me to know yet.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I say before I hop in. I don’t have the capacity to deal with Cason’s shenanigans right now.
I throw my head back into the headrest in frustration. I grip my hair and close my eyes while I try to breathe. I’m thankful for the dark tint on Cason’s windows. I don’t need these guys to see their leader break.
I’m back at square one. Missing my girl with nowhere to look.
“He’s lying. He knows something,” Cason says as his door shuts. I look out the window to Jordan as he remains on the ground, panting. Crank is now helping him up onto his feet. He’s rubbing his throat with one hand as Goose pats him on the back. They help him into the back of Goose’s truck and then go back to the tailgate with their beers.
“I know,” I say.
Cason turns to me, looking as lost as I feel. “So what now?”
“I don’t know.” For the first time in my life, I feel hopeless, and it’s not somewhere I want to revisit ever again. Hopeless isn’t a good place for me.
Three-hundred forty.
I stopped counting at three-hundred forty. That is how many drips I’d counted falling from the brown stain that adorns the corner of the tiled ceiling before I gave up on passing the time that way. Now I’m just lying here staring at the puddle on the floor, getting lost in the quiet. Letting the ringing in my ears overcome all other sensations. I’m not sure if Marcus left me down here to rot away or not. I’m not sure why I’m here, or what his goal is. I’ve attracted the attention of an insane man and have spent the last year of my life running from it. But I do know one thing: our ending is almost here. I can feel it. One of us isn’t getting out of this alive, and I’m ready for it to be over. I’m ready to stop running.
The lock clicks on the door as it turns, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. After a while, isolation brings on the thoughts you fight to stave off. Even your worst nightmares become sweeter than the darkest parts of the mind. His presence gives me something to focus on just long enough to keep my sanity intact. Or what is left of it, anyway.
I wasn’t sure he would come back after our last conversation, but he appears in the door reminding me of the reason I’m down here in the first place. I turn my head to watch him closely, but I don’t move to acknowledge his presence. After all, he’s only scum to me. Why would I cater to scum?
“Ah, you’re awake. Good.” He holds a white tray laden with dishes in his hands as he comes farther into the room. “I figured you’d be hungry by now. It’s been days since you’ve eaten.”
He reaches my corner and places the tray on the floor next to the cot slowly. He’s staring at me like I’m a wounded animal prepared to bite at any moment. I can tell he’s afraid I’ll lash out again. I would be too; I don’t know what I’m capable of at this point. I mean, what do I have to lose? Him? Good riddance.
I watch him closely but make no move to reach for the tray. Even if I am hungry, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he is right. He shuffles his feet and clears his throat, like he’s uncomfortable in my presence. I tilt my head and continue to watch. In his eyes, I likely appear like a scared kitten, too afraid to move. He has no idea that I’m an owl perched on a nearby tree, waiting for the perfect moment. Waiting for him to slip up just once. That’s all I need—just one moment.
“Fallon, I’d like to take you out of here. I don’t like to see you so . . . confined.” The sincerity he attempts to lace into his words doesn’t seem quite right. It doesn’t fit him. His jaw is ticking away, and he’s too twitchy. The master of manipulation makes his appearance. I’m honored. It’s what made me fall for him in the first place—the mirage of being something I wanted, or at least what I thought I wanted. It’s almost perfect it, unless you’ve observed him long enough. There is always a tell when someone isn’t what they appear to be. “Can
’t we just go back to being us? Like we used to be. You were happy then, weren’t you?”
He squats down next to the tray at the side of the cot. He reaches out to me, swiping a hair away from my face. My jaw tightens as soon as his finger grazes my cheek. My skin crawls the instant I feel his touch. It’s like having a million spiders scattering from that one spot.
But the silence in this room has put me in the mood to play, and I consider his questions. I mean, I’m locked in a basement and have been confined. According to him, it’s been days. I think. Maybe. I’m not sure; since I’ve been awake I’ve counted only two nights. Any shred of hope I can find in his words needs to be considered right now. But I focus on the happiness he’d mentioned, because it’s as good a time as ever to self-reflect. Was I happy then? Before Luna, before Jesse? While living in blissful ignorance, amidst all the lies?
I think maybe there were times when I was happy with Marcus. But even if I could go back to those moments, I wouldn’t want to. I know now I was weak; my judgement was skewed by innocence. When I really think back to when we were together, what I remember most is the manipulation. There were so many times when he was overbearing, controlling, or where his anger peeked out from underneath the mask. At least now I can live in my truths with no regrets. My eyes are wide open, and he would rather they be covered and bound by his dominance. Unfortunately for him, I will never be blinded by Marcus again.
I lean over to the edge of the cot, reaching out for the tray of food. I take a moment to appreciate the view of all the items on the tray. It’s nicer than anything else I have to look at down here. It’s a shame. He really took the time to place everything in neatly on the tray. There’s even a small familiar blue flower placed in the middle. It’s a blue butterfly pea flower, just like the ones I stared at for hours in my old neighbors’ garden when I wanted to hide from my shadows. But the flower has taken on a different meaning for me. Because even then, he always knew where I was and what I was doing. He was always watching, always following, even in a place where I thought I was safe from his prying eyes. In this moment, I realize I was always hiding from him, and I know that no, I wasn’t truly happy. You don’t hide from happiness.
I run my finger over the small petals. I trail my finger down the stem, then over the smooth top of the tray towards the edge. I continue tracing along the side until my finger hitches perfectly under the lip of the tray, and tip it over in an almost slow-motion manner. I watch as the food scatters, a cup of water tips over and splashes on Marcus’ shoes, and the flower is crushed under the rattle of spilled dishes off the tray. Beautiful, and ripped from the longevity of its life in the matter of a moment. One slow, almost everlasting moment.
Just like Luna.
I stare at him calmly. Probably a little too calmly, if you ask me. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I’m not sure I’m feeling much of anything. I’m just here, living the nightmare. Taking joy in the small satisfaction of watching him tick away, like a bomb.
Go ahead, explode.
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move. He stands as still as stone with the water dripping from his shoes. Once again, I’m curious. Will the tray be what breaks his game?
I give him a small smirk as I watch the ticks in his jaw visibly spread to his left eye. It’s a twitch he can’t control, though he’s trying. After a few short huffs of his breath, he turns and walks through the door with a slam and a loud click. The dreaded click wipes this damn smirk off my face. The noise of the lock being turned in place now echoes within my mind. I wince knowing a single sound has brought me to the brink of my emotional existence.
I let out a sigh and scan the bare walls. I think of all the pretty things I could place on them.
I can’t stand the smell of this place. The disinfectants overwhelm my senses. It reminds me of a dank, musty closet, and the smell fills the entire hospital. I round the corner at the nurses station and come face to face with the door I’m looking for. I never thought I’d be in this situation—where I had to tell my girlfriend’s mother that her daughter is missing. If I’m honest with myself, I never thought I’d find someone like Fallon. Someone I couldn’t live without. This is one of the reasons why I didn’t let myself love. Beating the hell out of someone is much easier than caring about a person’s life. And to have her ripped away from me, to worry about her and not know whether or not she is okay, is almost more than I can handle. Now I have to face her mother, and I know in my gut this will be harder than any confrontation I’ve ever had.
I stop in front of the door and take a few deep, steadying breaths as I prepare myself to go tell Fallon’s mother that her worst nightmare has come true . . . and on my watch. While I was supposed to be protecting her. I can’t blame her if she hates me after this. In fact, I expect her to hate me. Fallon is the most precious thing in her life, and here I am telling her I couldn’t protect her.
I reach for the doorknob, gripping it tightly. My hand fits perfectly around it but I can’t seem to bring myself to twist it and open the door. After a moment of trying to force myself to not be a wimp, I drop my forehead to the door and close my eyes. My hands are sweating, my heart is beating scarily fast, and I think I might begin to hyperventilate at any moment. This is unlike me; I’m fucking unraveling. Thank fuck I’m at a hospital.
How the fuck do I do this?
“Sir, is everything ok? Is there something wrong with the door?”
The voice breaks me out of my daze, and I look up. A middle-aged nurse with dark circles lining her eyes is standing at my side watching me. She looks exhausted, but the sincerity and concern behind her words tells me the exhaustion is worth it to her. I know she wouldn’t continue to do this job if that wasn’t the case. We push ourselves for the things we love.
I shake my head. “No, sorry I’m good. Thanks.”
She reaches for my shoulder, giving it a gentle pat, and says, “Having a loved one in here is hard. If you need anything, let me know.”
I give her a nod and she walks away to help the next poor soul who is going to need the encouragement of an army.
I turn the knob with a shaky hand, but it slips before I can push it open. I wipe my hands down my jean-clad leg and try again. This time the knob turns fully, the click pounding in my ears as I push the door open and step inside the dimly lit room. The glare from a TV mounted on the wall highlights the petite woman lying in a typical hospital bed with the railings down on the sides. As luck would have it, most of my dealings with my girlfriend’s mother have been a result of bad situations, and today is no different. And there always seems to be one common denominator: Marcus. If we all manage come out of this safely somehow and this woman is still willing to let me be in her daughter’s life, it’ll be a fucking miracle.
“Jesse? Is that you?” Her mother peers up at me with a smile. “Where’s Fallon?”
She leans over to look around me, expectantly waiting for her daughter to appear in the door. It kills me to know she might not ever grace that doorway—or any other door in our lives—again.
No, I can’t think like that. I will find her. She will be safe.
“Hi Darla. It’s just me today,” I cough out as I sit down on the brown cloth chair next to her bed. I can feel the tension creeping into me, and my leg starts to bounce involuntarily.
“Oh.” She reaches for the remote and mutes the television before looking over at me. “Is everything ok?” she asks, unable to hide the hint of fear in her eyes. She knows. I don’t know how she knows, but I know she does. I’m not sure if she’s like my mom and can read minds, like all those times my mom knew we were lying to her as kids. But I can see it in her face. She knows, and I’m about to tell her it’s even worse than she’s probably imagining. “What’s wrong?”
I bend forward and put my head in my hands, running them through my hair and giving it a hard tug before rubbing them over my face.
“Jesse?”
I sigh out a deep breath before I
speak. “She’s gone.” Fuck, that doesn’t sound right. “I mean, missing. I don’t know—maybe taken?” I start to ramble into my hands.
“Wait! Slow down. What do you mean she’s gone? Start from the beginning,” she says. I look her in the eyes and see it clear as day in her expression. She’s not dumb; she knows who is behind it all.
Was there really any question as to who did this?
“He fucking took her. We were at a barn party, and she was there one minute and then gone the next. I looked everywhere for her. We all did,” I tell her. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up.”
I stand up and start pacing at the end of the bed. My hands pull on my hair again, like I’m trying to cause the pain I know I deserve for losing her like this. No amount of pain that I cause myself can make up for the fact that I failed Fallon or make this situation any better. The only thing it seems to help is the immense guilt that has overtaken my soul.
“And you’re sure it was him?” she asks. I don’t need to tell her the answer. She knows it was him. But just like me, she needs to ask the question. She needs to hear it for herself.
“It has to be. No way would she walk away from you. I know it in my bones. No, he took her.” I shake my head at the idea that she would ever walk away from her family. She would never. Nothing could make her leave them.
“Jesse, she wouldn’t walk away from you either. I know my daughter, she loves you. She loves all three of you,” she says, “But you? You mean the world to her.”
I stop pacing and place my hands at the foot of her bed, gripping the foot rail until my hands and knuckles turn white. The words echo in my head. She loves you. That damn spot in my chest aches again. It’s a permanent reminder of what I couldn’t do for her.
“Have you gone to the police?” she asks quietly.
This is other part I was dreading. I lean back and readjust my grip on the bed. I meet her eyes, and I shake my head.
