Thursday, 29 January 2015

Silent Scream: Part Twenty-Three

[Parts 1-22 can be found here...Remember to tweet me or leave me a comment if you're reading because page views + silence makes me paranoid that you all hate it :p Please and thank you! Xo

Also if you hate it you should tell me :p]

It hurts to breathe.

He tries not to.

He holds his breath, listening to the conversation between Detective Oliver and Michael from his position on the couch. He feels his mom’s hand over his heart.

Making sure it is still beating.

“She passed away about an hour ago. They tried to bring her back, but…I’m sorry.”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Don’t tell him,” he says, breathing out. “We’re so close to losing him entirely…I don’t know what this would do to him. Jenna was a good friend.”

He risks opening his eyes ever so slightly. He doesn’t want them to know he is awake. Not yet.

“Any word?” Michael asks. Detective Oliver shakes her head.

“Nothing. No word from the kidnappers, no leads…We traced the video surveillance back to that same warehouse with the mannequin. They wanted us to find it. They wanted him to know they mean business. It was all staged, all of it. Just to hurt him as much as possible and bend him to their will.”

“And the…The blood on the blanket?”

James’ lungs burn for more oxygen. He ignores them.

“Pigs blood,” Detective Oliver says. “We’ve been contacting the local butchers to see if anyone purchased any recently, but so far we’ve had no luck.”

“So what now?” Michael asks. “What do we do now?”

Detective Oliver falls silent. It is Detective Roberts who answers the question.

“Pray.”

James opens his eyes.

“Honey,” his mom says. He can tell she’s been crying. “You’re awake. Please, let us take you to the hospital. I wanted to but Michael refused, said you’d be so mad if you woke up there again…” She tries to smile. “Please, sweetheart. Let me take you back.”

James pushes her hand away and draws himself to his feet. He grits his teeth against the pain that shoots through every inch of his body.

“Pray?” he says, looking at Detective Roberts. “So that’s it? You’ve given up??”

“We haven’t given up,” Detective Oliver says quickly. “But we are at a standstill. All we can do is hope the kidnapper makes contact again. We’ve interviewed everyone who had access to your house, interviewed your neighbours and the senders of some of the scarier fan mail you’ve received…No one knows who could have planted those cameras.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit here? Wait? Hope? Pray?”

He wishes he had the energy to jump across the room and throttle Detective Roberts, but it’s taking every last ounce of what he has left to remain standing.

His phone rings.

It takes him several seconds to even realise where the sound is even coming from. He pulls it out of his pocket, noticing the seventeen missed calls for the first time.

Mom. Michael.

The caller ID says Amelia. He tosses the phone to Michael, incapable of dealing with anyone else right now.

“Please,” he says, lowering himself back onto the couch, unable to stand any longer. “I can’t.”

Michael nods and swipes his finger across the screen.

“Amelia, hey, this is not a good time. The agency is closed for now and we have to keep this line clear…” His voice trails off. All the colour drains from his face. “What??” he whispers. “You did what??”

James drags himself back to his feet. He shuffles forward, straining to hear.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Okay. Okay. We’re here with the detectives. How soon can you be here?? No – stop crying. Stop. Amelia, listen, you have to – I realise that but – Amelia -- You know what, fuck it. Where are you?? I’m coming to get you.”

“What is it?” James’ voice trembles. “Michael? What is it??”

“Okay. Stay there. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up and looks at James.

“We might have a lead. Fuck, we might have a lead.” He turns to Detective Oliver. “How soon can you get me to Beverly Hills?”

Detective Oliver grabs her keys without asking questions. They both stand up.

“Michael!” James’ voice is the strongest it has been all day. “Tell me what’s going on! Tell me what Amelia said!”

Michael walks over and puts his hands on James’ shoulders. He looks him in the eye.

“Stay here with mom. I’m going to get Amelia and bring her back here. I’ll explain everything then. Staying here and explaining it now is wasting time we don’t have. Now do you trust me?”

James blinks. Nods.

“Okay. Then trust me. I will be back as soon as possible.”

James watches him go, and, despite his anger at Detective Roberts for suggesting it, he prays.


Please God let us find him. Please let him be okay.

******