Chapter 32
“The cop car’s still outside,” I tell Michael over the phone.
“I know those officers,” Michael replies. “They’re good people. They won’t let anything happen to you, but as an extra precaution, you have two paid security operatives watching the premises, too. The police might hesitate. These won’t. If anybody tries to hurt you, they’re dead.”
I swallow, looking up and down the street. The sun is almost setting. It’s been a wild day since the police arrived, going to the hospital, and repeating our story several times.
“I don’t see them,” I whisper.
“That’s good,” Michael says. “You’re not supposed to, but they’re there.”
“Where areyou?” I ask.
That’s all I wanted to know as the police processed me, Mom, and the other captives. All I cared about was getting my hands on Michael again. I’ve showered twice since the basement, since that man walked in, and I… He was going to kill us. My wrist still hurts from the recoil of the gun.
“Following up on some leads,” Michael replies. “The lease of the butcher leads to a shell company. There are a few listed owners, two of which are in the city. One of them is going to tell me who the fuck arranged this. I have to get to them before the police do.”
“Why?”
Michael’s tone goes dark. I can’t believe he’s still going after what he’s been through. Mom was on an IV for much of today to replace her fluids. She’s got a bandage around her arm from where one of the men must’ve grabbed her too hard. “The cops won’t cross the lines that need to be crossed,” Michael snarls. “These men have to talk, but the cops won’t make them. They have limits. I don’t.”
I swallow, glancing over at Mom. She’s sitting on the couch, staring numbly at the TV. She saw me kiss Michael. I didn’t even think. My ears were still ringing from the gunshot. I could smell the stink of the gunpowder. I just wanted to melt into him. “I want to see you,” I say selfishly.
“Soon. Tonight. It might be late. Keep your phone on.”
I wonder if he heard what I said in the darkness before he closed the door.I love you.With the fear pumping through me and the darkness consuming us, it felt like the last time I might see him. It felt like I had to say it right then.
Hanging up, I look over at Mom again. “Uh, Michael might come by later.”
I wonder if she’s completely slipped into another mental state. Maybe I should call one of the numbers the cops gave us when we demanded to go home. It has therapists and mental health specialists listed.
Mom slowly turns to me and nods. “He told me in the cell. He told me you two were together. He said you were going to have a family together.”
I swallow. Suddenly, it’s like the tough shell I wear breaks apart. Hearing Mom talk about a family lets the emotion pound into me of staying in the bunker with Lion and wondering if they were dead. The frantic drive home. The nerves as I walked into that evil place.
Then, the gunshot. I’m shaking. I’ve had panic attacks before, but this is the worst. My vision gets hazy. Mom sits beside me, her arm wrapped around my shoulder. “Count your breaths with me, Lena. Come on. Count them.”
Slowly, I focus on her voice and instructions. I feel worn out, almost hollow, when it’s done. I hug her, careful to be gentle. I know she’s in pain.
“Michael did that for me,” she whispers. “After Diego Diaz… I was panicking, and he helped me get through it.”
I hold her tighter, knowing this isn’t the right time to ask this. Yet after all the fighting, the near death, theright timeseems like a silly concept. The right time has to benowbecause who knows what tomorrow will bring?
“Are you attracted to him, Mom?” I ask quietly. “Is that why…”You lied.“You said that stuff about the dates?”
Mom laughs quietly. “I’m not attracted to him, dear. No.”
“Then—”
“I just… Amelia, I’m puzzling some stuff out. I need time to pray. I need time to understand. I need time to ask myself some very tough questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” She clutches onto me tightly. “Is it worth going crazy again if it means I stop lying to my daughter?”
“Mom, I don’t under—”
“Please,” she says sharply. “Please, not now. I can still hear those police officers’ voices. I can still smell the gun smoke. I can still hear the screams.”
“Oh, Mom.”
She breaks down, crying passionately. I can’t help but cry with her. This must be so much harder for her. She’s been through it twice and doesn’t have a future with Amelia to cling to. I hold that tightly. I remind myself that, no matter how bad this gets, we have a future. We have each other.
“I lied to you,” Mom says, leaning back, wiping her tears. “I lied in the ugliest way. Amelia, I made up a whole differentworldabout me and Amelia. He told me what you said about wanting a family.”
“It’s true,” I whisper. “Mom, I’m sorry. I wanted him even when I thought you were together. I wanted him the first time I saw him. Ihatedthat you were together, or I thought you were. I get it, Mom, okay? I get why you lied. You wanted to protect me fr—”
Mom stands abruptly. It’s doubly shocking considering how frail she seems as if she’s willing to tolerate the pain from the sudden movement if it means ending this. “It’s not what you think,” she says. “I-I’m going to take a nap. Is that okay, Amelia?”
“You don’t have to ask me, Mom.”
“A nap,” she repeats to herself, head ducked, not looking at me. “Everything seems better after a nap.”
I smile, heart aching. Dad used to say that to me when I was little, if I was throwing a tantrum or acting grouchy. I sit in the living room, staring at the TV screen at the commercials. My eyes feel heavy, too, but I can’t sleep while thinking about Michael out there, alone, hurt, still trying to get to the heart of this.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. It’s Alice. She’s holding a glass dish of lasagna with a kitchen towel, her lips trembling as she steps forward. “A-Amelia. Poor thing. Are you hungry?”
Michael must’ve deleted the message on her phone somehow. She’s looking at me like I’m a complete victim who’s been locked up for days. That’s what the world has to believe. Nobody can ever know I fought back. Nobody can ever know I killed a man.