Home

Chapter Two

Reed

'Danny! Danny, save me, please.'

I could hear her sobbing, her pained voice calling out for me. It didn't matter how much faster I ran or how strong I was. I could never reach her.

I could hear her screams, her shouts of pain, her crying for me to save her, and it haunted me. It haunted my nights, days, and every second of my being, knowing I never saved her.

Sometimes I wished I had forgotten how they found her. Sometimes I wished I could erase that memory out of my head for good.

Other times, I never wanted to forget the fear in her wide eyes, the marks that ran across her abdomen, the rope marks that were tattoed on her wrists and ankles.

It was a tortured memory I made myself remember because I deserved it. I always woke up in a jolt and cold sweat, my body shaking and my heart racing incredulously loud.

I looked at the alarm clock to see the same time I always saw—two thirty in the morning. The neon lights were blaring and arrogantly blinking as they reminded me of how pathetic I was.

Very fucking pathetic at this point in my life.

It felt like some robot routine, getting up, washing my face, and slipping into the nearest sweats and sneakers I owned.

They were pretty roughed up, but as long as they were in one piece, I didn't need to go out and buy a replacement.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and put my headphones on as I took out the trash and then got my early workout in.

I don't remember if I ever used to run for sport or fun; nowadays, it feels like a punishment. I'd run until her voice vanished and the memories faded.

I enjoyed how my muscles burned and ached as my legs silently begged for a break, but they wouldn't get one.

I wouldn't get one. I didn't deserve a break; I barely fucking deserved to be alive. Alive. What a funny word.

Being alive meant having a beating heart, but what a contradiction to what I felt in the left side of my chest. It felt like a dull ache—a void.

Something that should have been there but really wasn't. The best way I can describe it was like background noise. If you listened closely, you could hear it, but if it got too loud, I barely noticed it.

Sometimes, I prayed to whoever was listening to make it stop. To make it all stop. The street in front of me blurred, and the blinking lights of the streets combined with the sweat dripping into my eyes blinded me.

I didn't stop and wipe them away, choosing to leave them and enjoying how my eyes burned for relief. I pushed myself further, harder until my body physically gave out.

I reluctantly stopped and leaned on the wall as I tried to catch my breath. I was panting, sweating, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone.

I barely ran three miles. Raking a hand through my hair, I finally opened up my messages from yesterday.

Mark: How did the interview go?

I texted back. 'Good. I have another meeting later today.'

I put my phone back in my pocket and made a U-turn, walking fast, before picking up pace as I began running back to my apartment.

The meeting Mark set me up with was Lilah Bishop, mother of Catherine Bishop, for security. I used to work out in the field as a former FBI agent, but was currently suspended, for violating conduct.