Jamilton Oneshots // Hamilton ✔️

Wrong Number [JAMILTON] [PART TWO]

I GOT THE DEH BOOK AND I'M SO EXCITED FOR LIN'S BOOK TO COME OUT TOMORROW I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR IT SINCE JULY

can i just say the entire deh book is narrated by evan and he's such a precious bean the entire time like omg ALSO HEIDI WAS LIKE "SEZIE THE DAY" AND MY NEWSIES SOUL TOOK OVER AHHHHH IM FANGIRLING SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

~~~

My next few months without my phone are hard. I have to deal with Charles sleeping and watching my every move. He put my phone on top of a tall bookshelf (without any books in it). Every so often, he'll grab it and play with it. I have the punishment of watching him go through all my history and contacts.

Sometimes, if he finds my texts with some of my friends, if I tell them I platonically love the, he'll hit me. That's not the worst of it though, since I really don't have many friends to say that to. Just Maria.

When he's done looking through my phone, he usually places it back on top of the tall bookshelf. It does that this time, making sure to mock me a little bit. But it's on the highest shelf.

Naturally, I grab a chair and take my phone off the shelf once Charles leaves the apartment.

I turn it on, just suddenly realizing Charles cracked the screen until it was practically impossible to see what you were doing. But I was too determined, I wouldn't give up. Somehow, I was able to get through putting in my passcode (which Charles changed to 'Charles') and then go on messages.

My chat with Thomas was already open and he looked to be rereading our texts. On one hand, I felt bad. He probably knew I hated him, but wished I didn't. On the other, my heart had no remorse. This is what he deserves. He does not deserve love.

I text Thomas.

Hey.

He answers back a few seconds later, as if he was waiting for me to answer.

Hey. Are you okay?

I think about my answer for a long time, wondering if the truth is worth saying or not.

No.

It's really not.

Do you need help?

I consider making a joke like 'Yes, please get me a therapist' but I can't. Maria and him have been the only ones that ever worry about me. Ever.

Only if you want to.

Of course I want to.

Really?

Of course. Where are you?

It occurs to me then that I don't actually know where I am. I know Charles lives in an apartment building, but I'm really not sure where. He doesn't let me pay the rent, he just takes my money. I walk home, because I memorized the way to and from the bar. Charles used to drive me home when he was nice and sweet. Now he's sour.

Charles locks me inside our apartment when I don't have any work to do, although we're on the second floor.

I slip open the window and look down.

Too far to jump, although suicide would be nice, too.

I don't know.

How do you not know?

I don't know.

I can almost feel him sigh digitally.

Send me your location.

I send him my location, suprised to see an address. So that's where I live.

I'm on my way.

~~~

Which floor, which room?

I know the floor and room, luckily.

Floor Two, Room Four.

I hear a light knock at the door a few minutes later. My heart flutters in my chest, and I realize how fast this is going away. In an hour or so, I'll be away from Charles. This was my last time seeing him.

I walk to the door, pulling my head up to look through the peephole. But I'm not even able to get a full look, as the door swings open.

Charles.

He was tricking me. Where's Thomas?

"Aw, was my baby expecting someone?" He frowns down at my face, then snatches my phone, "I'll take that, alright? To the bedroom."

I'm really not surprised he tells me to go there, but I don't move. Thomas. Thomas. Thomas...

There's another knock on the door. Charles growls, pointing at it.

"Well, aren't you going to open the door?" He asks softly, looking into my eyes.

I look away and pull for the door. It opens, revealing a tall man with poofy hair. Charles and him are the same size. I look like a mouse compared to them both. I admire the poofy-haired man. So that's Thomas.

Wrong number Thomas.

Charles pulls out a gun.

I don't have enough time to react to the pulling of the shiny gun though. I see it in the corner of my eye. It makes my heart jump in my chest. And when my heart is back down, my brain is down realizing what it was and who it was pointed at.

Thomas.

Wrong number Thomas.

Charles pulls the trigger before anyone can say anything. No one has enough time to scream before a gunshot shoots through the room and hits Thomas right between his ribs.

And when Thomas is done with and dead, Charles turns to me. No word can come out of my mouth, I stare at the ground. The blood spreading around Thomas like a wet towel being squeezed. It's like the water is coming out of him. I hate the sight.

"How coul-could you?" I finally scream.

Charles shushes me, hugging my waist.

"Shhh," I quiet down, "Go. To. The. Bedroom."

He lets go of me.

I scamper to our bedroom.

~~~

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