Wounded; A Brallie Fan Fiction *EDITING*

Chapter Seven: The Ripple Effect

Callie's POV
As I walked down the dark streets of a sketchy neighborhood, I found myself more paranoid than ever before. I was continuously looking over either shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed by Michael Myers or Ghostface.

After running away from Stef, I knew she'd have all the officers at the station looking for me, and nobody would take finding an officer's daughter lightly. I couldn't wander the streets when they were one step away from putting my face on a milk carton, and I couldn't take this lightly. So with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to, I used a payphone and called Jesus as last resort.

He gave me the address and directions to the motel he was staying at, but I was having a hard time finding my way around. I couldn't use my phone either, let alone turn it on or else Moms would track me.

So I took my chances and knocked on somebody's door, despite the dangers of the neighborhood and the possibility that Moms reported me missing and my face was all over the news.

Luckily, after knocking on a blood red door with a garden of flowers on either side of the porch step, an elderly old woman with white hair and pale blue eyes appeared in the doorway. She looked like she'd come straight from the Brady Bunch, but her appeal was kind, and not at all threatening, so I pulled the plug on my fight or flight instincts.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked sweetly, a smile around her denchers.

"Hi," I said, suddenly nervous. "Um, my phone just died, and I was wondering if I could borrow yours to call my brother?"

"Oh, of coarse!" The woman exclaimed as though it was ridiculous to even ask. She opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in.

I stepped inside and found a home that was kept tidy and neat, not a single cup ring or speck of dust in sight. There was a floral sofa against the pastel pink wall, and a seemingly ancient coffee table placed in front of it, with a flower vase in the middle. Next to the sofa was a wooden rocking chair. There was no television, so basically all the furniture was pointed at nothing.

The woman directed me at a wall phone in the kitchen. Yes, surprisingly, wall phones still exist in 2013.

When I first moved in, Stef had insisted I memorize all the Fosters' phone numbers, which I didn't think would be of any use to me until tonight.

The phone rang monotonously until I thought there was going to be no answer, but to my surprise, Jesus answered at the last minute. At first, all I could hear was violent screaming in the background, and then the familiarity of Jesus's voice.

"Where are you?" Was all he asked.

"I have no clue," I said. "You told me Waverly Drive, and there isn't a motel in sight."

Jesus groaned in what sounded to me like frustration. "Callie, I said Waverly Boulevard."

"Where the hell is that?!"

"Nevermind," he said. "Where are you, I'm coming to get you."

"I'm on the corner of Waverly Drive and Sunset Avenue," I said, eyeing the old woman who was smiling at me creepily. I gave her a genuine smile back, and gripped the phone tighter with anticipation to get out of here. "There's a little white house right on the end."

"I'm leaving now. Wait by the street sign," he demanded, and before I could say anything, he hung up.

Awkwardly, I took the phone and placed it back on the . . . wall, and turned to face the old woman.

"My brother's on his way," I told her as I slowly made headway for the door.

"You're welcome to wait inside if you'd like," the woman said. "No sense in a pretty girl like you sitting in the dark."