When The Time Comes

Chapter 24; Liberty

I scratch the back of my neck where it itches, listening to the soft murmur of a breeze blowing, the sound of small stones moving under my shoes and the occasional chirp of night bugs.

Omar is back to his usual self. The pictures have restored his lost hope. I look over my shoulder at the partially ajar door, wondering what Omar might have found. It's scary. All of it. While it sounds absurd to say, the certainty of death offered more peace than this. Whatever this, is.

Inside that house, Omar is looking for an answer to a question I find myself drifting in and out of reality for. I think about Sadie. Scratching behind her ear. The smell of her from the couch fabric. The dull bubbling of water on the stove. An empty house most of the day. Seeing mom pull into the driveway when the shadows grow more slanted. Sometimes hearing her walk in after I've gotten into bed. I used to keep track and I think she did too. Now I never know when she's working extra hours. I never ask about it anymore. 

I can see why Ben wanted the money so bad. I guess only those who have lived without it can understand how important it is. For me, it's becoming a waxed string, slipping through my curled palm. A kite I've slowly lost the grip for. 

The cops know who hurt Andrew. I didn't hurt him enough. Clearly. I left the snake still able to say my name. This makes me feel sick. Like violently sick that my name rolled off his tongue. Even after all this time, why does he still get to say my name. I wish I had done more to hurt him. God knows I do. My stomach feels like it's full of venom. If only I could drop dead from it right now.

From inside the house, I hear a noise loud enough to make me skeptical. I call out Omar's name and I don't hear a response. I can't say I'm surprised. I stay at my post a few minutes longer until the silence is too dubious to hold.

I enter the home, my thumb scrolling up the flashlight on my phone. Headed past the living room where a sofa sits in isolation, I make my way to the stairs. There is another sound. A scrape. Something being pulled across the floor. 

When I make it to the last step, I freeze. A slender figure with sleek mid-length blonde hair and pencil skirt turns around just as I realize what she's doing.

  Omar bangs his fists on the other side of the attic door. Her eyes widen just as mine do. 

"Who are you?" I push myself up the final stair to the floor.

 She surprises me by turning and lifting a stone decoration. She aims and then throws it in my direction. My reaction is delayed and I barely make it out of the way, slipping back down the stairs. I scream, waving my arms out desperately. My hand finds one of the rails, clinging on to it as I stop mid-roll so that I'm awkwardly placed on the steps. Pain ensues, shooting up my arm from where the vase struck me. Before I can get up, the woman's shoes click past me and I get a second glimpse of her face from the ground.

Omar must have broken down the door or something because he rushes our way, just as the stranger makes it downstairs. He's sweaty and out of breath, helping me up as we both run after her.

"Hey!" he yells, practically leaping out of the house. I'm a little behind him. 

We chase after her and I can hear all of our steps beating down the stone path. Her hair, bright and trim, floats after her. We pick up our speed and for a moment, we're fast. But she's too far ahead.

"Stop!" Omar yells. 

I yell at her too. All sorts of empty threats. Stop. Murderer. We're calling the cops. The words I shout into the wind, hit back at me, barely touching her.

And then she slows down, her hand extended to the back door of an SUV with tinted windows. It dawns on me that someone was waiting for her behind the wheel. 

Omar jumps out into the street, waving his hands frantically, trying to get the car to stop. I can no longer see the woman, now shielded behind the black windows. But I bet she can see us clear as day. Two kids with expiration dates stamped on them. Two kids who just want some answers.

The car honks at Omar but he isn't getting out of the way. The driver hits accelerate but stops when Omar stands his ground. An attempt to scare him off the road. I join him. If she gets away, we're done. We'll have nothing. And this all would have been for nothing too.

"You're Stewart's wife!" Omar says all of a sudden, screaming at them.

I look at him, catching the feral look in his eyes just now. I don't know how I missed it. Omar showed us his family back in Atlanta. He was right. This was his wife. Or ex-wife. Whatever.

"Why are you running?" he yells when the car attempts to reverse. Omar is too far out to run to the back so I do it instead. 

I run as fast as I can, blocking the car from the back. It has nowhere to go now. Either it drives over one of us, killing us in plain sight where I hope a bunch of neighbors are watching and recording from their windows as of this moment. Or it doesn't kill us and we are just horribly maimed, proving that you don't get to choose or alter when you die. That stag mail is real. And this all is just some horrible delusion we've shared together.

"Liberty!" Omar calls out my name. My full name. Again. I get a look at him, from the side of the vehicle. His eyes are wide with panic.

And the car's rear lights turn on.