Because favours are priced...
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"You have an insatiable desire for trouble Camille Sanders. You'll never just be satisfied. You're like me, too wild for the world."
I laugh at the outrageousness. "You're dramatic I'll give you that Michae...
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The scent of flowers filled my hospital room now. It was almost suffocating. But I know the girls meant well.
Yesterday felt like a terrible day dream, but it had been real I knew, since I still had soil under my fingernails. Now we had to move forward somehow, without Isaac.
I wondered if Belinda received flowers of her own, as I walked about the room slowly. I had to get some exercise, and since Michael wasn't here today to walk down the hall with me, I stayed inside the room.
Despite the confines of the white walls, it was safe. Michael had gotten the police to keep guards outside my room. Seemed extra, but there was no saying Belinda can't just send someone to suffocate me in my sleep. But now she'd know she has to kill my dad as well. Possibly even Michael.
I didn't want think about all the possibilities. Later today I'd speak to the police and tell them everything I knew. My dad would arrive as well, evidence in hand to give himself up.
The twins would be placed under the care of their aunt and uncle, whom didn't know why Belinda's husband would be out of town in the time of such a crisis. Once they spoke with Belinda, she would realise what he was up to. By that time, he would be in the custody of the police.
Needless to say, I wasn't ready for it.
Mom had called and I had to straight up lie about what was happening. Dad had still not been able to speak with her though he vowed to before he was taken in.
It was still very much a mess.
Among the flowers, I spot blank white. When I step closer, I notice a small envelope tucked inside. Flipping it over, I found no address. So I open the flap and tug out the contents.
The pictures are what I notice first. Michael, recently in his grey hoodie. Dean, in the same outfit when he left my house, the beanie snug on his head. Finally, me in my black dress, sitting at the back of the church pews with Katrina.
I take out the folded note as well.
Michael, Dean and you. I'm coming for you all.
He figured it out. Took him awhile actually, I'm surprised he was that daft being as feared as he was.
I put everything back and left it on the table. I suppose not much effort was needed to send a bouquet to my room. I'm surprised it wasn't a bomb. I rub my arms, and look over my room. Did Belinda put him up to this? Where would he be hiding? When would he strike?
He still didn't have Dean at least, that was easy to deduce. He'd disappeared without a trace. Again. There was definitely going to be no letter to burn this time.
The sombre mood follows on, as two detectives came by in the evening. Dad hadn't arrived, but Michael and I told them the story we could, omitting Dean to the best of our ability, along with our involvement with any drugs, especially Michael's.
"That's when this person told me-"
Pings interrupt me. "Excuse me," the officer pulls out his phone. Then a collective beep of a pager echoes. The detectives exchange a look and then nod, standing up. I glance at Michael who shrugs.
"Give us a moment, we'll be right back."
I turn to Michael as they leave. "What do you think it is?"
"Maybe something about Bruce." I thought of the note and my dad. Nothing was going to make this mess easy to clean up. We didn't even know how to find Bruce without Dean or Belinda's co-operation.
Michael picks up his own phone, going through his messages as we wait. The door opens again and they walk back in, they're expressions troubled.
"What's-"
"Fuck," Michael looks up at me, his face turning worried. "Camille...you need to see this."
He hands me the phone and my eyes take in the screen. It was a live news feed. I turn up the volume and listen.
"Demands are still unclear but the police are sure it will soon arrive. Once more, here is the video that was delivered to us just minutes ago."
A dark blurry video fills the screen. There's a single light focused on two people and then the blur fades immediately.
"No."
Duck taped at the mouth, hands and feet clearly bound, sit the two victims Eric Sanders and Scott Fletcher.
"No."
Though the lighting was dim, it was set purposefully to show the faces of the kidnapped men. Their eyes were wide with fear, and sweat shone on their foreheads.
Scott's red hair was matted down, he had a black eye and there was a visible wound on his neck. He still struggled against the bounds and tried to scream. My dad on the other hand, sat mostly still, as if he'd accepted his fate.
NO.
"If you want them to alive and safe, deliver me what I ask." A figure walks in front of the camera, a silly joker's mask on his face, hoodie covering his head. "Told you I was coming for you." The gravelly voice utters with finality, the malicious grin taunting me.
The screen changes back to the reporter. "We have confirmed its authenticity..." the reporter's voice fades into the background as I feel myself grow numb. So numb that I can't feel Michael's hand around my shoulders.
This cannot be happening. This is not how I wanted to take revenge. This tastes so bitter.
I want my father back.
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A/N: Now that this train wreck has come to a semi-stop, I suggest a better novel with an actual plot with a real ending. Try my favourite The Guy Next Door by Nylla Camphry. It's amazing.
As to what happens next...give me a month. I need to recover too.
Thanks for all your support, comments and for sticking around to the end. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.
