The Chord to my Heart

24: Evidence

                                                                             24: Evidence

           I woke up to a squeaky voice in my ear, and tiny hands pulling at my blanket. “Lyla! Mommy says to wake up!” Gabe said.

           I groaned, turning away from the noise. I couldn’t remember what time I dosed off last night. I tried staying awake for as long as I could to avoid the nightmares. They were relentless these past few days, haunting me the moment I drifted off.

           Gabe walked to the opposite side of the bed and climbed up. “Sissy?” he whispered. He was leaned in so close that I felt his breath against my cheek.

           I sighed, opening my eyes. “Tell Ruth I’ll be up in five minutes okay?”

          He nodded. His eyebrows furrowed as he stayed sitting next to me. I could tell he was thinking about something.

           “What’s going on Gabe?” I asked, sitting up.

           “Can I ask you something?”

           I nodded my head, waiting for him to continue.

         “Why doesn’t Mase hold your hand anymore?” he asked. His eyes were serious, growing wide as he awaited my response. There was a pull at my stomach the instant I heard his name. But I cleared the lump that so often formed in my throat.

        “Mase and I had a little fight. But don’t you worry. Everything will be okay,” I said, ruffling his hair.

        “Are going to kiss on the lips like mommy and daddy do when they say sorry to each other?” He smiled, showing off the gap in his front teeth.

       An instant blush colored my cheeks as I tried to keep from smiling. That’s the thing about six year olds. They can’t help but to be blunt.

         “Don’t you have to get ready for school or something?” I asked, averting his question.

         He nodded his head. “See you downstairs, sissy,” he called out as he raced out of my room. I lay back down for a moment before forcing myself out of bed. I knew I’d be late if I didn’t hurry. I rushed out of my room and down the hall into the bathroom with my towel in hand.

        I stepped inside, turning the light on and folding the towel over the rod next to the shower. I was just about to close the door when I heard a phone vibrating on the counter next to the sink. I looked over, confused, thinking I must’ve accidentally brought my cell phone with me. But when I leaned in closer I noticed it wasn’t my phone that was buzzing. It was Mase’s. l peered closer and noticed a familiar name lighting up the screen. One that made my insides do twists and turns. Tracy Hamilton was calling Mase. I’d left him broken, and she’d stepped in to pick up the pieces. I bit my lip, avoiding the feeling of being physically sick.

       Just then, the door to Mase’s bedroom opened and he came out dressed in dark jeans and a white button down. He wore the same Converse at his feet as always. His eyes widened when he saw me standing there, next to his phone which finally stopped buzzing.

       “I think you were getting a call,” I said, reaching over and handing him his phone. He glanced at the screen, reading her name. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his expression turned nonchalant.