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I lose sight of Bella at a given moment, but one guard is always with me, and I keep on taking pictures. It when I realize I also lost sight of the guards, and that they must be looking for me, so I decide to stay put for a second and wait for them to find me. I try calling Bella, but she doesn’t answer, liking distracted and interviewing someone.
“Hey! Psst!” a voice behind me demands my attention, and I quickly turn around to face it.
It’s a pair of young men, eighteen, early twenties at max. They approach me with a menacing gait, and the biggest of them reaches for the camera around my neck without being invited. In one swift move, he has it in his hands.
“Hey, watch it! I make a living out of this!” I raise my hands to try and take my camera back, but he places it way above my head.
“I don’t think you want to do that. I make a living out ofthis!”
He lifts one of the flaps of his jacket, showing me a large firearm tucked into his waistband.
“Yeah, that’s the way of living ‘round here…” I say, surprising myself by not feeling fear, just anger. “A friend of yours showed me a month or two ago. He’s wearing an ankle bracelet now!”
I say it as a threat, but they don’t take it like that — they laugh, and point at me, as if I’m a kid being bullied at the schoolyard.
“Missy, we’ve all seen worse ‘round here, and survived!” the smaller one says.
“Now you come with us and let’s see these pictures,” the big guy says. “If there’s nothing here, we’ll let you go.”
I’d say, ‘What if I refuse to?’ but these guys are armed to the teeth and God knows where they are taking me and what they are going to do to me.
So, I say, meek and mild, “Okay, just please don’t hurt me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ALEX
Idashtothehospital room where Harlan is at a sprint.
There he is, my little man, with a red zipper of stitches across his forehead.
“Harlan! Buddy!” he looks at me a little bit doped right before I hug him, and I kiss the top of his head on the side where he’s not hurt. “What happened, Lilly?”
The woman looks terrified of me and gestures widely around with her hands but is unable to get any actual words out.
“Lilly, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault…” I tell her, still holding Harlan.
“Oh, Mr. Winters!” she places a hand on her chest. “According to what he told me, he tried to get upstairs by climbing on theoutside railingsof the stairs,right, Harlan?”
“And I did it, dad!” he says, a finger drunkenly raised in the air, and very proud of himself. “Well, until I fell!”
I catch myself giggling, both out of nervousness and out of relief. “Alright, well you’ll never be doing it again. Understood?”
“Yes, dad,” he says and then yawns.
The pediatrician on shift appears, a man appears that must have no problem gaining children’s trust because he looks like a young Santa Claus.
“You’re Harlan’s father?” he asks, and I nod, then he offers me his hand to shake. “I’m Dr. Enders.”
“Alexander Winters,” I shake his hand with vigor. “Is he going to be alright?”
The doctor comes over to Harlan to inspect his own work. “Well, he got twenty stitches and a very mild concussion. He’ll be in pain for a few days, but you’ll get out of here with a bottle of painkillers suitable for his age. Don’t let him fall asleep until bedtime, okay? He’ll be just fine in no time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Enders,” I say, my heart wrenching to look at Harlan nuzzling my chest and trying to fall asleep.
“Thank you for coming so fast, Mr. Winters.” He ruffles Harlan’s hair and walks away. “I’ll bring you a paper to sign and you’re free to go.”
Now I truly breathe with relief, all I have to do is shake up Harlan, so he doesn’t fall asleep until nine. Meanwhile, Lilly looks at me and then bows her head.
