Little Things

by Madison Street

  For the next few days, I sleep with Layla, always by her side, just as promised.

  I’ll never forget you, Layla.

  Trish comes into my room and sits on the bed next to me.

  She grabs hold of my hand and squeezes, “How are you doing?”

  I ignore her question and stare out into space.

  She breathes a deep sigh, releases my hand, and stands up from the bed.

  She turns to face me, “Raya, I know you’re still hurting, but it’s been four months. You can’t shut me out. Please, talk to me. I want to help you.”

  Utter silence is my only response.

  She crosses her arms in front of her, “This does not help. You won’t survive down here without me. I want to help you.”

  Agitated, I turn to her and say, “You want to help? Then leave me the fuck alone.”

  I get up from the bed and walk away from her, over to the opposite side of the room.

  She growls, “Fine, but don’t expect me to come back whenever you decide that you need me.”

  And with that, she exits the room, slamming the door behind her.

  A few minutes later, West enters the room and locks the door behind him.

  He strolls up behind me and grabs hold of my shoulders.

  He whispers, “Don’t do this.”

  I begin to cry as my heart clenches, trying to fill the void in my soul. He brushes up closer and hushes my sobs as he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tight.

  “Just let it out. It’ll make you feel better.”

  As soon as he says that, I stop the waterworks and pull out of his grasp.

  I spin around to face him, “Do you expect me to just forget what I did?”

  He tries to console me, “It was not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I throw my hands into the air, “Are you kidding me? Yes, this is all my fault! Can’t you see? I’m here because of my actions.”

  His brow arches, “What do you mean?”

  “I’m here because I ran away from New York, because my mother was murdered, because of me! Me! Both my mom and Layla are dead. It’s my fault!”

  “No, that’s what Derrick wants you to think. Don’t fall for his tricks.”

  He reaches out for me but I slap away his hand.

  “And what about you? Huh? One minute, you’re second in command and the next you’re trying to console me? Is this one of your tricks? How can I trust you?”

  West squints his eyes and sternly responds, “You can trust me. I haven’t done anything for you to doubt me.”

  I scoff, “That’s what I thought about Derrick but we all know how that went. And if you’re trustworthy, why are you working for him?”

  “It’s a long story, but please believe me. I’m here to help you.”

  I step back from him and point toward the door, “No, you can go to hell with everyone else. I can’t trust you or anyone else for that matter. Please leave and don’t come back.”

  He begs, “Raya, listen—”

  “I said get the fuck out, West! Leave me alone!”

  He lets out a deep breath and walks to the door, but before he exits, he turns to look at me.

  “Just because you no longer want to see me, doesn’t mean I won’t be near you. Know that I’m here, always watching, making sure you’re taken care of and safe.”

  It’s been a year since Layla was killed and I honestly try not to think about it. I constantly distract myself with men, drugs, and more men. For the past few months, Derrick has been very pleased with my skills and the clientele keep coming back for more.

  I’ve taken on double auction bookings, spending nights with multiple winners, just to fill the void in my heart. But it only works for a short amount of time. On the nights that I’m not working the auction, I cry and cry alone in my dark room.

  At least twice a week, I have nightmares about Layla. At times, the nightmares feel so real that I can feel the rush of blood spill down her head or feel the surge of pain in my abdomen. I wake up in violent terrors and cry out her name, begging myself to stop the self-inflicted terror.

  I haven’t seen or heard from Trish since the day I kicked her out of my room. However, I still see West lurking through the halls. He’s approached me a few times, before and after auctions. He has this protective nature which, I admit, is admirable, but I still don’t trust him.

  I remember a distinct time when I was completely doped up on whatever they gave me before an auction. I had won the attention of three winning bids for one night. Not only did I have to fuck all three of them, but they were abusive as well. I got a few hits that night, but nothing like I’ve received in the past. Once the morning came, West entered the room to escort them off the premises and noticed the bruises on my face and body. I’ve never seen so much rage flash in someone’s eyes as fast as it did in his. In a split second, he had all three men screaming in pain as he broke their limbs within a matter of minutes.

  That night, West received his punishment; however, Derrick agreed with him due to the fact that they did damage his most prized possession. Only Derrick would see that as an attack on him.

  Derrick also continues to visit me at least a few times per month. He no longer has to threaten me to behave. I do everything that he asks of me without hesitation. I’ve completely surrendered to him and he dotes on it. He knows he’s won and that’s all that matters to him. It’s taken him three years but he finally has control over me.

  He owns me. I belong to him. I am his Angel.

  Duke

  I take a final look at my empty bedroom and sigh with a deep breath. This is it. This is what I’ve worked so hard for. Time to get things moving.

  My mom yells for me, “Duke! Melanie and Rob are here!”

  I smile at her loudness and head out the door, shutting it behind me. I make my way downstairs to find Melanie, Rob, and my parents packing up the last few boxes.

  I walk over to grab a box and head outside to the moving truck. Melanie and Rob follow close behind. Placing the box inside the truck, I turn to grab Melanie’s box.

  She smiles at me as I set the box inside, “I’m very proud of you, Duke. You know that, right?”

  I turn to her and smile, “I know, but there’s nothing to be proud of.”

  Rob walks past us to place his box inside the truck.

  He pats me on the back, “Of course there is. Look at you—graduated at the top of your class, got a great job as an investigator at a top firm, and finally moving out of your folks’ home. I’d say that alone is an accomplishment.”

  I shrug my shoulders, “I guess, but not really the one thing I wanted to accomplish these past few years.”

  Melanie sighs and pulls me into a hug. “Don’t think about it, Duke. Now that you’re in, you have the means to find her. You can do it. I believe in you.”

  I wrap my arms around her, squeeze her tight, and kiss the top of her head.

  Rob laughs, “Enough of this crap! Let’s go out and celebrate once you’re settled in. Come on, let’s get cranking!”

  The three of us finish loading the last of my belongings and they wait for me outside while I say good-bye to my parents. When I walk inside the house, my mother’s eyes are filled with tears.

  I stroll up to her with open arms, “Mom, you knew sooner or later I had to move out.”

  She sniffs, “I didn’t think it would happen so fast. You’re my baby and I’m not ready yet.”

  I chuckle, “Mom, I’m twenty-three years old. I can’t stay around forever.”

  She wipes away a tear, “And why not?”

  I shake my head, pulling her into my embrace. We rock back and forth for a few seconds as she sobs into my chest. I run my hands along her hair and rest my cheek on her head.

  My father wraps his arms around us and we stay there, holding on for what feels like an eternity.

  I hear the moving truck horn outside and let go
of my parents.

  My father nods his head and smiles, “I’m very proud of you, son. Take care of yourself.”

  I soak in his approval, “Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you guys when I settle in.”

  I give my mom a quick peck on her cheek, “I love you, Mom.”

  Her smile shines, “I love you, too, Duke.”

  A few minutes later, I hop in the truck and make my way into the city with Melanie and Rob following close behind me. Once we arrive at the loft, we start unloading, one box at a time. With two bedrooms, a den, a sizable living room, and walk-in closets, I found a pretty good deal with this loft.

  Melanie tours the loft and gasps, “Duke, how did you find this place? It’s huge!”

  I place a box on the floor, “I just saw the ad on the window and called the number. The owner had the ‘for rent’ sign up for a few days and I was the lucky caller.”

  Rob slaps me on the back, “You lucky son of a bitch. I would kill for this apartment. And look at the view.”

  I shake my head, “Stop exaggerating. It’s not a penthouse or anything.”

  We finish loading all of my boxes and furniture into the apartment and chill out for a quick rest before we head out to grab a bite to eat. Today’s been a smooth day, no hiccups. Just hanging out with my best friends and starting my new life.

  Now I need to focus on this job and hopefully find some new leads with finding her. Ever since the visit at the Auburn, I haven’t been back. But now that I’ve gained a little more knowledge and insight, it might be the perfect time for the next visit.

  It’s been six months at the firm and so far, I love it. I’ve learned so much and everyone is great. A few of the top investigators have even taken me under their wing and shown me a few ropes around the city. Now, we technically aren’t law enforcement, but I admit, I like to think of myself that way. On Wednesday nights, we all meet at the gym and work on our cardio and even do a few reps with the weights.

  I’m not yet licensed to carry a concealed weapon, but that doesn’t stop me from visiting the shooting range. When I’m there, I imagine my target to be one person—Craig. He’s always my target. I fire shot after shot into his chest and head, perfecting my aim, because if I ever need to, I want to be prepared and focused on the task at hand.

  As I’m about to finish up at the range, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I fire off the last rounds into the target, clean up my station, check the pistol back in with the clerk, and head back to the loft.

  Melanie left me a voicemail saying she’s on her way with Rob and should be here in thirty minutes. The tone is her voice was not upbeat as usual; it was heavy and a little distant. Hmm, something must be wrong.

  I jet to the loft and hop in the shower for a quick rinse. I get dressed quickly and await the arrival of Melanie and Rob. A few minutes later, the front door buzzes and I let them in.

  Rob goes straight to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and grabs whatever he can find.

  I yell toward the kitchen, “Hi to you, too, and I think there’s some leftover pizza in there!”

  Rob yells back, “Yup, found it!”

  Melanie laughs as she strolls into the living room and plops onto the sofa. I sit next to her and smile.

  “So, anything new at the hospital?”

  She sighs, “Just the usual. I’ve been working double shifts, and of course, we’ve been loaded with trauma victims all week. I had a gunshot wound victim brought in around two in the morning. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it.”

  I lay my hand on her knee, “I’m sorry to hear that. It must be tough for you to lose people.”

  Her saddened face looks to the ground, “It sucks, but then there are those days when we do save someone and it’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world. To bring someone back…I don’t even know how to describe it. It feels…powerful.”

  Rob walks into the living and sits on the couch, eating my leftover pizza.

  “So, what’s up? You sounded all worried on the phone.”

  Rob takes his final bite of the pizza and clears his throat.

  “I heard something about the dick in jail.”

  My eyes go wide, “Craig? What about him?”

  “They are transferring him to another facility. Somewhere in Michigan I think.”

  “Transferring, why? Can they do that? And how do you know?”

  “Duke, I asked my boss to keep tabs on him for you. He told me last night that he was getting transferred. I don’t know why.”

  “When is the transfer?”

  “In thirty days.”

  “Shit, I haven’t even gone up there yet. I don’t have a plan or anything.”

  I leap off the sofa, angered at myself for letting so much time pass by. I thought I had more, though.

  “Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I need a plan.”

  Rob looks at Melanie, “That’s why she’s here.”

  I glance at her, “What do you know?”

  She shakes her head, “It’s not what I know, just want I think. Do you remember when we last visited and someone was there already? Remember how we had to wait to see him?”

  I nod, “Yeah and I’m still baffled by it. Who would want to visit him? I don’t think he had any family.”

  Melanie stands up and walks toward me, “Duke, think about it. I remember exiting the bathroom and seeing you bump into someone in the waiting room. The guy walked right out of the visitation hall and a few seconds later, we were called in. My guess is, that’s the guy that was talking to Craig.”

  Realization hits me as her theory seems logical.

  “Melanie, you’re a genius. Now all we have to do is find out who he is. Shit, I need to get my hands on the visiting log and the tapes.”

  Rob smirks, “Already got that covered. My boss made a call to the judge and is working on the warrant as we speak. Once we get it, we’ll have access to all the visitation records and surveillance. My guess is, this visitor knew Craig before he murdered Genna, and if there’s a pattern, we’ll find it.”

  I start to lay out the plan in my mind, “Okay, I’ll talk to my boss and see if we can get the police to run some facial recognition once we get the surveillance. I’m assuming he’s used an alias, so a name search will be a dead end. But he can’t hide his face. We’ll find him.”

  A few days later, Rob informs me that they got the warrant and we have the approval to head to Auburn to look at the logs and the surveillance footage. So Rob, his boss, and I take the five hour trip to check it out. The whole trip there, I’m completely anxious and wired, ready to start the hunt. My thoughts always move to Raya, wondering where she is, what is she doing, is she safe?

  Surprisingly, we get into the prison pretty easily. Apparently, not many questions are asked when you show up with a warrant. The security guards guide us to the warden’s office and close the door behind us. A few minutes later, the warden steps in.

  He greets us and takes a seat behind his desk, “Welcome. I hear you have a warrant to view visitation logs and surveillance. Which prisoner does this pertain to?”

  I take charge and speak up, “Inmate #4457. We are requesting to view his tapes and any logs pertaining to his visitation during his stay here.”

  The warden makes a quick call advising the other person on the line to gather the requested information. He hangs up and advises us to follow him to the security office. We walk down a few corridors heading toward the office.

  A few minutes later, the three of us enter the office and see a wall covered with surveillance monitors and equipment, scouring the entire prison.

  The warden steps up to the officer sitting at the camera station, “Pull up all of the feeds for inmate #4457. Anything you can find.”

  The officer nods in response, “Yes, Sir.”

  A few seconds later, the feed search is complete. The three of us gather around the monitor as we wait to watch the tapes.

  The office
r states, “Okay, so it looks like inmate #4457 has received a total of five visits—the first being five years ago and the last visit being two months ago. Would you like to see all of them?”

  The three of us say in unison, “Yes.”

  He pulls up the feed and starts to play. Craig is being pulled out of his holding cell and led to the visitation room. He is seated at an empty table until his visitor arrives. A few seconds later, his guest enters the room. I take a good look at him, trying to focus on his features. Is this the guy? Is Melanie right? I can’t seem to remember what he looked like.

  Frustration brews as I can’t remember. I clench my hand into a fist as anger and annoyance fill my mind with thoughts of failure, yet again. Craig and his visitor begin to discuss his new life in jail—the food, the sleeping arrangements, and just typical small talk.

  Rob asks me, “Is this the guy?”

  I shake my head, “I don’t know. I can’t remember; it all happened so fast.”

  Rob stares at the playback, “They’re talking about nonsense. Let’s play the next tapes.”

  We all agree as the officer starts the next visit.

  An idea pops into my mind, “Wait! Go to the date that I visited. I was told that Craig had a visitor right before me that day. Start that tape.”

  The officer switches the feed and rewinds through my visit with him. The tape starts to play as Craig sits at the table and we notice that it’s the same visitor from the first tape.

  Rob states, “Alright, so that has to be him, right?”

  I nod, “Yes, most definitely. Now we need to find out what they were talking about.”

  I look at the officer, “Can you raise the volume?”

  He nods his head and pushes the volume control, making it easier for us to decipher the words.

  Craig glances at his visitor, “How is everything at Alder? I trust that it is under control during my absence.”

  The visitor responds, “Yes, everything is running smoothly. The estate is flourishing and there’s even a surplus. The patron list has expanded tremendously and the overall rate of satisfaction has sky-rocketed.”