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Aiden’s alone in a dark cell. The room is small with no windows, and bars lock him in. I stand there in front of his cell, staring at him while he sleeps on the thin, tattered mattress. His unfocused eyes stir as he sits up. Seeming to feel my presence, he looks in my direction with a face full of despair. He stands to look at me as I walk toward the bars.
I reach my hand out to touch him, but he seems so far away. He reaches for me, but there’s something in the background, something dark and terrifying. I call out as the darkness approaches, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I’m mute while I watch the darkness surge closer and closer.
His hand seems farther and farther away as I struggle through the bars to reach him. He turns to see the darkness, his face full of fear and terror as the blackness engulfs him whole.
I call out again, but I hear nothing as the darkness drags him away from me.
Suddenly, I wake from my nightmare, sweat beading on my forehead, my breathing erratic. Panicked, I sit up. The room’s in complete darkness. I turn on the light as tears finally freefall down my cheeks. I realize right in this moment that he needs my support, no matter what. I can’t lose him. Life without Aiden is dark, dreary, and unbearable. He’s my light, my happiness, my life. I turn to the clock and check the time, it’s the early hours of the morning. I lie down, and my breathing eases as I take his pillow and hold it tightly to me. Reaching out, I grab my phone from the bedside table and set my alarm, leaving the light on for comfort as I slowly drift back to a restless sleep.
The elevator chimes, and Mike steps out. “Good morning, Miss Taylor. Are you ready?” He sounds chirpy, but I can tell he’s anything but as he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mike.” I stand as he takes my arm in his, and we head to the parking garage. Mike peers at me with concern as he turns on the ignition.
“Miss Taylor, are you sure you’re ready to see him?”
The answer I really want to say is ‘I want to see him, just not in damn jail,’ but I contain myself and simply nod.
His only response is an audible exhale as we head toward the main gate with my anxiety pulsing through me like a torrential downpour. Mike continues to walk with me through the gate where I see Jenson talking to a security guard.
Catching Jenson’s attention, he gestures for me to follow him. Midway, my stomach lurches and flutters with fear, making me turn back to look at Mike. It must be written all over my face because with quick steps, he gently grips my shoulder. “You can do this, Miss Taylor. You’re stronger than you know. Stay confident. Hold onto your love for Aiden, and you’ll be fine.” With his reassuring words, I take a much-needed breath and feel some of the emotional weight lift.
“Right! Here we go,” I agree as I walk toward the lawyer.
Jenson assesses me cautiously and puts out his hand in greeting. “Miss Taylor.”
I shake his hand. “Mr. Monroe.”
He hands me my visitor’s pass. “I just want to warn you that it may be daunting when we go inside. You’ll be on one side of a screen, and you’ll have to use a telephone to talk to each other. Please remember he’s in a fragile condition, and he needs your support.”
I glare at him in response. No words are needed, and he instantly looks away.
We walk into the building and pass through a metal detector while my stomach churns with anxiety. I can’t wait to see Aiden. I miss him so badly, but at the same time, I don’t want to see him locked up like this.
As we step through each doorway, an alarm sounds. With every step I take, my anxiety builds. We’re led into a small room painted a dull gray, and there’s a desk with a thick glass partition from the top of the desk to the ceiling. On each side of the glass partition is a old-style black telephone.
Jenson gestures for me to sit. I do as I’m told and wait for Aiden. Nervously, I tap my foot on the floor. I need him so badly that I’m physically and mentally hurting without him. The door on the other side of the room opens, and Aiden walks through in handcuffs wearing a dark blue top and matching pants. His hair is disheveled, but not in a good way, and he has a slight growth of stubble on his face. He appears despondent, and my heart breaks as my fun-loving, energetic man now looks defeated and disheartened. He manages some sort of half-smile when he sees me and even his half-smile lights up the room with his appeal. He’s in front of me, so close and yet so far as the guard on his side unlocks his handcuffs. My bottom lip starts to quiver, and I’m becoming emotional, but I have to be strong for him.
Aiden picks up the phone on his side, making me do the same. “Hey, baby, you look good in my shirt.” His voice is the same smoothness I’ve come to miss, but hearing the broken undertone, I can’t control the single tear that falls at the sound of it.
“Jeni, please don’t cry.” He places his hand on the polycarbonate window.
I raise mine to meet his. I can’t feel him, I can only feel the cold, hard plastic, and that breaks my heart even more.
“I miss you,” I say quietly. “Our bed isn’t the same without you in it.”
His face scrunches. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”
I sigh and furrow my brows. He looks miserable. “I love you, Aiden. There was never any doubt I’d come.”
“I love you, too. You know I didn’t do this, right? Please tell me you believe me?”
“Of course,” I reply. “Who could be framing you?” I ask, looking right in his eyes.
“It has to be Matthew.”
Then it dawns on me like a light bulb going off—that conversation between Matthew and Rachelle was about Aiden.
Holy shit! I’m a damn idiot for not thinking about this more.
