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He is gone.
The tears flow down my cheeks, unchecked, and it feels like someone is using a knife to carve my heart, slowly. I find it hard to breathe.
Lack of food and water has me weak, and finally, self-preservation kicks in, and I get out of bed, trudging to the kitchen. There is some fruit yogurt in the fridge, and I take out a spoon and slowly eat it, not tasting anything, my eyes dull.
I see my phone on the ground, its battery empty, and in the back of my mind, I wonder what day it is.
Some food in my belly and some water, I walk over to the couch and curl up on it, closing my eyes and dragging the throw over me.
I must have fallen asleep because it is the banging on the door that wakes me up. I blink, groggily.
“Open the door, Sarah!”
I recognize Fergus’s voice, but I make no move to open the door.
“Sarah!” He sounds upset.
My body moves of its own accord, and I turn the lock, opening the door.
He looks frustrated, but when he sees me, all the anger vanishes from his face and quick fear replaces it. “What happened?”
He pushes his way in, and I stare stupidly at him before sighing and going back to the couch. “Go away, Fergus. I don’t want to see anyone right now.”
He grabs me by the arm, his grip firm but gentle. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
I don't have the strength to shake his arm off. “Just go away.”
His mouth goes flat. “Did I do something?”
“What? No!”
Fergus cups my face in his hands, and I feel my heart quiver with the pain that has been brewing inside me for the past two days. “A ghrá, what is it?”
I push at him, but it is like shoving at a brick wall, my voice thick with tears. “I don’t even know what that means!”
He lets me hit at him, and then grabs me by the back of my neck in a gentle hold and drags me to him, putting his arm around my waist.
I struggle for a few minutes, wanting him out, but he holds me close. “Cry if you want to. I’ve got you.”
The dam bursts again, this time more wildly.
He moves to settle on the couch, pulling me into his lap and just stroking my hair. He doesn't say anything, just holds me. My crying jag goes on for a while until I run out of tears, my cheek nestled on his chest, my ear right above his heart.
Maybe it is because I am tired, or maybe his steady heartbeat and the warmth emitting from his body calms me down. I still lean against him, and he asks, “Want to tell me what happened?”
“I met Roy,” my voice rough.
I feel his stiffening form, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue, “I asked him about Bryan. And he refused to help me.”
I slowly reveal my encounter to him, and then my voice cracks, “Roy was the only chance I had. I have no other way of finding him. The police aren’t helping. They think Bryan skipped town. And I don’t know how else to find him.”
Fergus is silent, and then says, “What if I told you I might be able to help?”
I pull away from him immediately to stare at him, trying not to get my hopes up.
“What do you mean?”
He studies me, his gaze not wavering. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about a few days back. I might have resources that could be of some use.”
