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“Is she alive?”
“Barely. She needs medical attention. You should hurry.” I hang up and shakily sit down on the steps underneath me as I am overcome with emotion.
Thanks, babe.
That was the best month of my life.
* * *
Roshelle
I lie in the silent darkness and stare at the ceiling. My mind is ticking and I have sick feeling in my gut. Stace has gone looking for an exit, but something else is bothering me.
His mother.
She hasn’t called and yet his face has been plastered all over every news station.
Why hasn’t she called?
Stop thinking the worst, I chastise myself. I close my eyes as I try to block out the vision of my own beloved mother dying.
Stop it, just stop thinking about it.
I get out of bed, make myself cup of tea, and walk over to the window to peer through the crack in the curtain. The sun is rising. A new day. A new opportunity.
How did my life come to this?
What did I ever do in my last life that was so bad that it warranted this kind of torture?
Stace. My beautiful Stace. My face screws up in pain as I walk to the door and look through the peephole. Do they have him now?
Please, no. Please, God, protect him. Please, please, please.
I begin to pace back and forth in the fading darkness.
Why hasn’t she called?
For ten minutes, I pace, so filled with fear for my love that I can hardly stand up.
Crippled at the thought of what they might do if they catch him.
It’s me they want.
Stace, where are you?
I begin to go over the times when Stace’s mom has called. She calls him every few days. If he was on national television as a wanted man, she would call him. I know she would.
But then… I frown. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. Am I imagining this? Maybe it just seems magnified because I am here in the middle of it, and what if she just hasn’t seen the damn news?
I pick up my phone and scroll to my contacts. I have two. Stace and his mom. I narrow my eyes as I stare at the phone and I click on her number, it rings.
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring.
It picks up and I stay silent.
Nobody answers, but I know someone is there listening.
