The Night I Was Saved

Chapter Nineteen

The moment we'd stepped over the threshold of mum's house, I knew I'd done right in asking Jo if she wanted to stay here while I go to the station. I'd called mum and told her about the situation, and she immediately insisted that Jo and Daisy would come to her, without me even asking.

When we arrived, Mercy opened the door. She didn't say anything; she just opened her arms and waited for Jo if she'd take the invitation. And to my surprise, she did. It stung, the fact that she is hesitant with me while she has no problem in hugging my sister, but I also felt the slight relief that she allowed herself to seek comfort.

Jo and I haven't talked much. After we'd finally stood from the floor, she left to take a shower and get dressed while I waited for her to be done. Daisy was sleeping which was perfect. At least she didn't hear or feel all the tension and pain.

When Jo was done, she walked into the living room with clothes for Daisy in her hand. Again without saying anything but a soft, "I guess I'll go shower now," I left her and Daisy on the couch.

In the shower, I was alone with my feelings at last. I first took a cold one, hoping it would subside the anger which unfortunately didn't happen. I then turned it painfully hot, hoping that it would fix my thoughts and give me some kind of plan to stick by, but again it didn't.

After five minutes I gave up, accepting the fact that the rage would probably never come remotely close to bearable. I slipt into my room and got dressed, deciding it would be a good idea to put on my uniform. I don't exactly know why I did that, but I feel strong and comfortable in it which I know I'm gonna need. Also, I hope that it will keep me in check and remind me of protocol at all costs, even when I'm facing him.

When I returned to the living room about twenty minutes later, Jo was holding a dressed Daisy in her arms. Jo was staring, her foot mindlessly bobbing up and down while she looked at something nonexistent in front of her.

She hadn't even heard me come in, and when I cleared my throat to make myself known, she jumped slightly which confirmed how far away she was. However, when her face turned and she met my form, I saw her eyes widen at the look of me in uniform. It was brief, but for a second I know she thought back to the night Daisy was born, and I could see her shoulders relax slightly as if she was relieved that I took this situation serious enough to put on my work gear.

Another ten minutes after that, we left. We got into Felix's car, which made me realize that I've been lacking enormously when it comes to my friends. It's all because I've been consumed with Jo, and I loved it, truly. But a very small, soft voice is starting to question if this is a healthy situation. For both of us.

She needs to find comfort and faith in other people, and she needs help way beyond the help that I can offer her. This morning was only proof of that. And then there's me. I'm so caught up in this situation that I'm ready to kill. All I can think about is torturing him, and even though fuck knows he deserves that, it's not who I am. It's not who I want to be. And it's not why I became a police officer in the first place.

The ride to mum's was silent. We didn't speak, and as if Daisy felt the tension that consumed the small space, she cried the entire ride. She never cries while we drive, and it made me feel guilty as fuck. Daisy shouldn't feel anything of what is happening.

And now, as we sit in mum's living room, the same tension is building. It's awkward because none of us seem to know how to react or what to say. Do we completely ignore that the bastard is just a few miles away from us, locked up? Do we talk about it and risk that Jo has a breakdown all over again? Do we small talk and pretend that nothing's happened?

Mum's sitting in the chair, a cup of tea in her hand while she blows over the rim. I know that her tea isn't hot anymore, it can't be. Mercy is sitting next to Jo on the sofa. Jo is leaning against the backrest, Mercy is sitting up straight. Their hands are clasped together, but it feels distant as they both look at the floor.