“The tree looks great, it’s just missing one thing.” Dean wraps his arms around my legs and lifts me up in the air.
“What are you doing?” I squeal in shock, knocking his shoulder hard.
“You’re too short otherwise,” Dean explains, handing me the star we bought to put on top.
I want to roll my eyes at him, tell him a chair would have worked just as well, but I don’t. My excitement is too high as I take the star from him and place it gently on top of the tree.
“There, now it’s perfect.” Dean brings me softly to the ground.
“It is.” I admire our tree. Our first tree together. Our first Christmas together. “We should take a photo of this.” I look around for where Dean left the camera, but he quickly sweeps me into his arms.
“First, I think we have some unfinished business from this morning to sort out.”
***
The next morning Dean gets asked to work a double shift, and by the early afternoon, I’m bored and hungry. I go out for some takeout and walk the two blocks to one of the best burger places in town, getting in line to order my usual. Once my order is given to me, I sit down in a corner booth, sipping my drink. I look around at the other tables, seeing families and couples surrounding me. In fact, as far as I can tell, I’m the only one alone in here.
I take a bite out of my burger and then instantly lose my appetite. Since I’m alone, random conversations are filtering through to me.
“Any sign of Hacker?” a man’s rough voice barks out from behind me.
“Agent Goodings hasn’t gotten her exact location yet,” a softer male voice responds. He sounds like he has food in his mouth since his voice is muffled.
“I can’t wait until we’ve gotten them all. We’re going to have fun.” I hear a clap and a laugh that makes my skin crawl. It sounds like there are just two of them and they’re obviously in the booth behind me.
“That’s sick,” the softer voice speaks. This time his voice is clear.
“You’re the one whose family was murdered over this, Reader. I tell you what, I’ll give you first go at them all.”
Reader? As in that kid who was killed at The Windmill, Reader?
“What is it?”
“I think I hear something,” the soft voice guy says. I quickly duck down further in my seat.
“As in, hear it in your head, hear something?”
“Yeah.”
He can hear my thoughts! I have to think about something else. Flowers. Flowers are nice, they bloom in Spring time and all look different. My favorites are red roses, which is ironic, I know,given my — daffodils, daisies, orchids…
“I must have just imagined it. So, if we’re grabbing Hacker, when will Third Eye be taken?”
“That stupid tracking device they implanted in Joe or John—whatever that guy is called—is starting to act up, so I don’t think they’re gonna wait much longer. My uncle said as soon as they grab Muscles, where ever the hell he is, they’ll go in for her.”
“They’ve got that lead in Ohio from that old lady who reported a kid to child services, right?”
“Yeah, it sounds promising. Once they get him and we get Hacker, then they’ll also have Third Eye, which just leaves Blackout.”
“Well, one of them will know where he is.”
“I’m betting it’s that Third Eye bitch. My uncle said they had some full on love affair when he was training them.”
“I can’t wait to get my hands on them all.” The softer voice sounds menacing now, and suddenly I don’t think the word soft suits him at all.
“Hold onto that anger, you’re going to need it.”
“How much longer until we can find Hacker?”
“Soon. We’re just waiting on a pinpoint of her location. Think I heard Spencer saying it shouldn’t take longer than a couple hours. We’re close, though.”
He has no idea how close. I mean, lilies, sunflowers, eucalyptus…
“Come on, we weren’t meant to be getting food. We should go.”
“You’re worse than Shane sometimes, you know that?”
“Hurry up then.”
I hold my breath as I wait to hear footsteps leaving. I feel like the whole place goes silent as I wait to hear them go. We might have been the only people in here for all I know.
I wait a few minutes after they leave and then force myself to get up and head to my apartment.
The wind and rain has picked up outside, so I pull my hood over my head, grateful that it will help disguise me.
I rush home, fearful that I might be followed, but not seeing anyone. I get inside my apartment, very aware that I have no time at all to pack. I use the same bag I had when I almost left after Dean found me and fill it full of clothing and some toiletries.
I rush out into the kitchen and grab an empty envelope that originally had a bill it in and flip it over. I have to hurry, but I also have to make sure Dean understands. This is too dangerous for him. He’s better off without me and far away from this situation. Zoe is in trouble. Will is in Ohio, so I have no doubt he’s in trouble, too. We need to initiate contact with each other. We all know where one other person is. We need to quickly regroup and come up with a new plan. It’ll be safer for Dean if he’s away from this. I have to let him go.
Dean,
I’m so sorry to do this to you, I know you deserve better than this letter, but I have no time. I can’t tell you where I’m going because I don’t want you involved in this. I can’t stay here. They’ve found me and I won’t have time to find you to say a proper goodbye.
Please don’t search for me. One day, when it’s safe and I can go home, I’ll come find you. Promise me you’ll go back home to L.A, that you’ll do what you love and be a police officer. Promise me you’ll be safe, that you’ll be happy and please don’t wait for me. I can’t say how long it will take me to get home, just know I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to get to you.
I love you. These past six months have meant everything to me.
Be safe,
Love Rose. xxx
I place a magnet on the edge and place it on our fridge. I have to be sure that I state that Dean doesn’t know where I’m going so they’ll leave him alone. Telling him not to wait leaves a bitter taste in my mouth; I hate to think that Dean could be happy with someone else, yet what if I never get to go home? What if I’m never able to see him again? I don’t want him to be sad and lonely. It’s the right thing to do.
I cry, looking back over to the Christmas tree we only decorated yesterday. It isn’t fair.
If I’m going to leave Dean behind, then I’m going to make them pay. P.A.G.E. will be destroyed, even if it’s the last thing I’m able to do on this earth.
***
It’s been an entire day since I left Dean and I have no idea of knowing if he is okay. I should have called him or at least gone to see him at work. I should have warned him going home might not be safe. I hear my cell vibrating and look down to see my screen glowing with his name and a photo of the two of us. I should have ditched the phone or turned it off. I couldn’t bring myself to do that just yet. I’m not quite ready to let go.
I put my cellphone away and take another look at my surroundings. Now is not the time to get bogged down with feelings for Dean. Will is in trouble.
I’m crouched down behind a small, bricked fence, looking out at the restaurant that Will is a waiter at. It had taken me half a day to find him. He hadn’t set up a phone line like he was meant to. I ended up having to ask questions to many locals before I got a name of an elderly woman who now led me to this place. She warned me someone else had been looking for Will also. They had photos of him, however she had stated she didn’t trust them, that something was off with them. She sent them in the wrong direction and had tried to call to warn him, but she hadn’t been able to get through.
I turned up only moments later and assured her that I would keep him safe. She gave me some of his clothes in a bag, knowing we wouldn’t
come back, and apologized for having mentioned his name to anyone. Her tip had been what led Stan and the rest of P.A.G.E. here.
I take his things and dump them next to mine in a car I stole in the last town. I left my car there in case it could be tracked and got a new one. I feel uneasy and watched. I don’t like it.
I carefully observe the innocent restaurant that appears to be busy inside, but outside is what I’m more interested in. I can tell P.A.G.E. is here. There are three vans with government plates parked in the street and I spot two men standing outside one of the vans having a smoke. They’re wearing dark military clothing and their physique is hardcore fit. Will is in serious trouble.
I watch three men enter through the front building and know I have no time to plan anything elaborate. Will can handle a lot, but not all these men at once. We have to escape and we need all the luck we can get.
I move as quietly along the path as I can while keeping my head down, staying as much in the darkness as I can. No one will know I’m here, it’s my one advantage. Another is that I walked passed a construction site a block away where I parked the car. I’ve taken a handful of nails from there that were left discarded on the ground.
I move towards one of the vans and place the thick nails directly under the back tires on the one closest to me. If the guy reverses or accelerates he’ll run them over. It will either directly pop the tire or it’ll cause the tire to slowly lose its air, either way it’ll cause them a problem. I rush past the first van and duck down low behind the second. They’re parked close enough that I don’t think the driver in the van behind me can see, yet to be safe, I stay close to the ground.
It’s deep into night now and my dark clothes help hide me in the shadows. The two men who’ve been smoking are back in the vans, obviously preparing for a getaway soon. I don’t have a lot of nails left now, so I place these ones at the front of the back two tires assuming it will only go forward. After doing that, I look towards the restaurant.
There is a commotion inside and many people are now standing, but it’s outside I’m hearing the more worrying noises. It sounds like a fight is breaking lose.
I stick close to the fence, so I’m still hidden in darkness and creep closer down a side alleyway. I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing by coming down here, but I’m rewarded when I see Will struggling under three men. He’s losing, however the two of us against three is easily possible.
“Hey leave him alone!” I shout, disrupting the man holding the needle to Will’s neck. It’s enough distraction for Will to kick out and then it’s on. I have one of the men running at me when the back door suddenly bursts open and more men pile out. We’re in serious trouble now.
WILL PARKER
Chapter 9 - The Last Straw
Phoenix, Arizona
December 23rd (Will age 14)
I wake up feeling uncomfortable, but not as sore as I expected. Last night, Uncle Sid had been in an especially angry mood and I paid the price. It’s still dark outside as I tiptoe over to my light switch and flick it on. I stand in front of my mirror, assessing the damage.
I lift up my shirt to see bruises littering my side. That is where he had been kicking me when I fell to the ground. It had been impossible to catch my breath last night, but I take a deep breath in now and only feel a small stab of pain. My fingers brush my side, it feels raw. My arms have bruises all over them, but I can’t remember the last time my arms were without signs of injury. My uncle is always grabbing my arms, even if he is just moving me aside so he can pass me. He’s strong.
I look at my knuckles and gaze intently at the scratches over them. Last night, Uncle Sid had been trying to get me to fight back. He sometimes gets in these moods where he wants me to be just as angry as he is. I don’t ever want to be like him. I don’t want to hurt people. Last night he had taken my hand, forcing me to make a fist before he bashed it into the wall by the TV. At the time, I had been screaming and my hand was bleeding everywhere. It’s what caused me to fall onto the floor, which led to me getting kicked.
My hand doesn’t look so bad now. Everything always seems much worse at the time than what it really is. A few times my aunt has been afraid enough to take me to the hospital, but it’s never as serious as she fears. She hates taking me to the hospital because she doesn’t like all the questions asked. Uncle Sid hates it, too. They get into the worst screaming matches when he finds out where I’ve been. As far as I know, he’s never laid a hand on her. I think it’s because he knows she can’t handle it. So he takes his anger out on me.
There is movement from down the hallway and I know my uncle is awake. No matter what time he goes to sleep, he is always up early.
I rush to my light switch and turn it off so I’m surrounded by darkness. I run back over to my bed and quickly tuck in my sheets. I tap my pillow several times and I’ve just placed it down gently on my bed when my door opens. I stand at attention by my bed, not looking at him. I hold my breath, hoping he won’t be angry with me today.
I watch him from the corner of my eye as he turns my light on and inspects my bed. It’s part of his set of rules. I must be up every morning at the crack of dawn and ready for my room to be inspected. My room must be spotless and clean and my bed must be properly made each morning.
Uncle Sid stands next to me and I force my body to relax. I must stand still while my room is inspected.
“Straighten your hair,” he growls at me and then slaps me across the back of my head. He storms out of my room and my body sags in relief.
I pat down my hair. Usually my aunt gives me a haircut and keeps it short, but lately she hasn’t bothered with it. I like my hair longer. I hate when it has to be short like my uncles.
I sit down on my bed and wait. I’m not allowed to leave my room until Aunt Lesley comes to get me. Typically she gets up when my uncle does. He doesn’t like any of us to sleep in. On days when he works, she falls asleep on the couch watching the TV. She’s meant to home school me, but she gave up doing that a couple years ago. Occasionally she’ll get in the mood, but not often.
The door opens and she ushers me towards her. I stand and walk quietly to my door, following her when she leads me into the bathroom.
“Sit,” she orders, nodding at a stool by the mirror. I know what she is going to do. Uncle Sid must have mentioned to her that I need a haircut.
“I like my hair long,” I whisper to her, but still do as she asks and sit on the stool.
“You make your uncle angry enough as it is. If he wants your hair cut, then you’ll get it cut,” she hisses at me just as quietly.
I look at myself in the mirror and then move my eyes up towards my aunt. She is frail, thin and constantly reeks of alcohol. I have one photo of my mom taken from a newspaper when I was just a baby. It’s black and white. I found it amongst my aunt’s things and took it. She’s never asked about it. I doubt she even knows it’s missing. From the photo, I realize Aunt Lesley looks just like my mom, except her eyes are hollow and her cheekbones protrude sharply outwards. Her nose isn’t quite as round and her hair is limp. I don’t think I look very much like my mom. I look like my aunt. We’re both pale and scared. Uncle Sid turned us this way.
“Do you ever miss Mom?” I whisper. Every once in a while I’ll ask her about my mom. She never gives me any answers, though.
“Shhh, no talking.” She gives me a warning look through the mirror and pulls at my hair. Using just regular scissors, she cuts off a chunk from my left side.
“Why do you stay with him?” I wonder out loud, feeling particularly brave today.
“William, shut up,” she hisses at me. Using my full name is my second warning.
She grabs hair from my right side and, not taking any care, she cuts it even shorter than my left side.
“Why don’t you ever try to stop him?” I question, not sure why I feel the need to talk so much. Aunt Lesley has never stepped in when her husband is hurting me. Not once.
“Because you dese
rve it,” she snaps at me. In her haste, she cuts my hair at the side and also nips my ear.
I watch her reflection in the mirror and notice her hands shaking. I don’t know whether she’s scared, angry or something else. She doesn’t look at me again, just keeps unevenly cutting my hair and eventually she deems me done.
She leads me out of the bathroom and I watch her cleaning up my hair. Uncle Sid is sitting on the couch, watching a wrestling match on the TV. The hole my fist made last night is still there. I know things are getting worse, my uncle is getting worse. Even Aunt Lesley is worse. She used to be kind to me, now she can’t seem to bare to look at me. Running away always scared me because of the unknown. Now I think being here is scarier. I’ve never tried to run away. I fear Uncle Sid will just come and find me, but perhaps it’s time I try.
Chapter 10 – The New Friendship
Marion, Ohio
May 28th
I’d been sleeping in the public library for three nights when someone finally finds me. She is an older lady who I put close to her late sixties. She looks hard and mean, and I find myself feeling nervous around her. I want to run away and not have to face her, but since I have my back against a wall with shelves of books on either side, I’m trapped.
“Hi, I’m Fran.” Her voice is gruff and low.
I lose my voice and forget what my name is. I’m still Will, but what did my last name change to? What happens if she asks for my full name and I can’t remember it?
“What are you reading?” She speaks guardedly and I feel like her question is a trap.
I hold out the book in my hand to give her, but the truth is I hadn’t been reading it. I’d grabbed the first one my hand touched on the shelf next to me so if someone noticed me down here, they’d think I was reading.
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