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10,000 words down. 9,000 more to go
“So, about killing the dad…” I said, wrapping my wet hair in a towel. My iPhone sat on my white sink, my agent Meghan’s face gracing the screen. She’d called right after I got out of the shower, following up with me on my words which were due in T minus five days.
“Please tell me he’s alive, Jemma,” Meghan said through the speaker of my iPhone. I shivered despite the robe I’d tied around my waist, keeping me warm in the chill air of my house.
“Actually…” I started to say. “I’ve avoided him so far.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, I’m still writing, Meghan.”
“Alright, alright. You know what, I’ll leave you to it and won’t pester you again. But… Monday… bright and early. I want to see what you’ve done.”
“Got’cha, boss.”
We both clicked off. I twisted around and gazed through the doorway, finding Jamie sprawled out on my bed like a teenager. He was clothed in his beige khakis and that same Guns N’ Roses T-Shirt from before, arms and legs extended, making his body appear in the shape of the letter X.
“What would happen if you kept him alive, Jems?” Jamie asked as I jumped into the bed next to him, phone in hand. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in, planting a soft kiss against my forehead. “Would it really compromise your vision?”
“Yes. Absolutely, it would. God, Jamie. I’ve got today and tomorrow to write… not even the full day tomorrow because of the party. And then this weekend. That’s it. I could theoretically knock this all out in a couple of days. It’s just… I don’t want to keep him alive. My dad died. So should hers.”
“You know… there is another option,” Jamie said, softly.
“What other option? I either kill him or I don’t.”
“I don’t want to butt in, Jemma.”
“You’re not butting in. I just… yeah, Meghan is just going to have to be disappointed on Monday when the dad is dead.”
“You know no one ever dies.” Jamie’s mouth remained open after he finished. He let out a soft breath, a contorted word that stopped short, and then he shut his mouth.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well…”
Before Jamie could get out his next sentence, the phone buzzed in my hand, and I jerked away from surprise.
“Jesus,” I said, instinctively flipping my hand up. “It’s probably Meghan—”
Holly’s name popped up on the screen. My insides tightened.
Fuck. Something in my stomach told me this wasn’t a call just to say hello.
“Jamie…” I didn’t have to tell him, I could see in his eyes he already understood the circumstances from watching over me. The same fears I had rushed to him, as evident in his worried expression.
“You should take that,” he said. His eyes suddenly shut, then scrunched together, as though he’d instantly received a message that something was wrong. “She’s been hurt, Jems. Again.”
I hit accept.
“Hello?” I asked into the phone.
“Jemma?” Holly’s voice sounded scratchy as fuck.
“Holly? Where are you?” I instantly jumped out of bed, placing Holly on speaker as I rushed into my closet to dress. I threw on some underwear and the first two things I found, jeans and a sweater, as I waited for her to talk. No words came from that phone.
“She’s at her house, Jems,” Jamie whispered. His eyes were still shut, as if information was being shown or transmitted to him, however the fuck it worked. “I can take you there.”
“Okay, Holly. I’m going to get you now. Hold on, okay?”
