Jillian Rose

Chapter 8

I woke up the next morning and every morning for the next month scared out of my mind. I knew I had pissed Boss John off. I embarrassed him in front of his colleagues, his friends, whoever knew him at the charity function. I felt embarrassed. I should have kept calm. I shouldn't have made a scene. I shouldn't have drawn attention to myself.

I stayed in the apartment for three weeks before I ventured off into the city for groceries. I didn't leave the apartment unless I had to. There had to have been over 300 people at the charity event where my picture was broadcasted for everyone to see. Every time there was a knock on my neighbor's door, a dropped book from upstairs, anytime I heard a noise I thought Miss Caroline was at my door coming to take me away.

When I finally ventured out of the apartment I found myself back at the library. I started Googling statistics of missing teenagers and the probability of finding someone alive. Google, Bing, and Yahoo all said the same thing. Chances of finding a missing person alive after 48 hours were slim. I calmed myself down thinking they were looking for me in landfills, the river, the canals. No one was looking for me to be walking around. I did find one news article that unsettled me. The most common place to find runaway teens in Sansapolis was the Neon District. Before I met Boss John I was a poster child for Sansopolis demographics. 17 year old runaway hooker living in the Neon District. How no one found me was a miracle...Unless no one was really looking for me.

For some reason the thought that no one was looking for me was worse than having an entire city looking for me for murder. No one would miss me if I died. No one would care if I didn't come home. I felt very lonely. For the first time I realized I had no friends. No one loved me. No one missed me. No one cared about me. No one would know I disappeared when Boss John finally went all Jack the Ripper on me.

I started to think about the way Boss John insisted I leave with him at the charity event. I thought about the way he lectured me, but didn't hit me. About the way he undressed me and put me to bed without taking anything from me. I pushed the thoughts out of my head. Boss John did not care about me. He just simply realized he had gone too far. It was the same thing when Mr. Christianson would show me attention to make me think I was special. He was trying to trick me. He didn't care about me. I was his pet. Chad cared about me.

I thought about Chad a lot. I thought about how he had never expected anything from me. I missed Chad. He was the only person, other than my parents, who truly cared about me. And like my parents, he left me too. I started to hate Chad. I hated how selfish he was. I started to hate myself for how selfish I was. If I had come forward he wouldn't be in jail. I would be in foster care, but I would still have Chad. I realized that being alone was worse than being in foster care. At least in foster care they would know if I died. Someone would care if I died.

When I heard the front door open I quickly jumped to my feet. Boss John was the only person who came to visit me. There was no surprise to who it was. I ran to the main room and stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge me. I had a plan.

"You're going to help me," I said losing patience for him to acknowledge me.

He was on the phone. He needed to get off the phone. Why was he on the phone when he came to see me anyway? That was just poor planning on his part.

I smiled as he raised his eye brow. I had his attention. He quickly apologized and excused himself from his conversation and hung up as I rocked back and forth on my heals.

"What am I going to help you with?" He asked as he returned his phone to the inside of his suit jacket.

"You're going to help me prove Chad is innocent. You're going to get him out of the plea agreement he signed."