*COMPLETED* (18+) MATURE
Wrong number...usually a person would delete the number, right? A mistaken text leads to blood money and danger. Chris Johnson, a gender fluid male, receives a text from a mystery guy who shares a card number. Aware that i...
Pulling up at home isn't as it should have been. The block is usually bare of people; now, neighbors gather close to my place. Caution tape is up, tied around short stands. A news station truck and a reporter. I steer the red, small car into the driveway, spying our front door, which is open.
My parents must be in the crowd.
A bad thought hovers in the back of my mind. What if something happened because of the money? I've been off guard....too chill, that would be the time some shit goes down. What if giving the money back didn't go well?
Get out of the car and see.
As I do this, I realize my mom is in the crowd, holding a house phone to her ear, relaying something into the receiver. "Mom!" I yell loud enough to get her attention.
She spins, her mouth pausing mid-sentence before lowering the phone. A gloomy expression spreads her teary face. I stop breathing as my mom runs to me, cradling me in her arms. "There's been an accident...Sam was hit by a car; your dad is at the hospital with him. I stayed back to tell you. I'm so sorry, sweetie."
Instantly, my legs give out, I wobble to the ground, hearing my heartbeat block out every sound around. No...no no, that makes no sense!! She has to be wrong! Sam is okay...he's, he's in the house, up in the guest room. Or in the kitchen chewing slowly on food as a niceness, Cheeto at his side. There's no way he's in the hospital...not after our last conversation.
NO WAY!
My heart enters a critical rate, rattling my rib cage, stinging, vibrating my chest. Oh no...what I said to him. OH FUCK, BREATHE! BREATHE! I take large gulps of air through my mouth.
My body trembles, my hands, legs, even my face. My mom drops to her knees, next to me, speaking, but I don't hear anything. My heart flutters...growing violent. Blurring dizziness and weak limbs engulfs me. My mom takes the keys from my hands loose and guides me up and to the rental car.
REBA
He's non responsive...and full of shock. I place him in the back seat as if Chris is a ragdoll, putting one foot in at a time, then doing the same with his arms. Ok...get him to the hospital.
I kick the car into gear and speed off. "His leg was hit...and broken." I don't get a response from my son. Through the rear view mirror, Chris stares ahead blankly. He's still shaking and jerking. His face pale as a ghost. "He'll be okay, you hear me? CHRIS?! Talk to me!" Relax...relax....give him time to process...even though he's scaring me. I hope he doesn't pass out or have a heart attack. Chris looks like he's about to croak.
That fucking driver...that fucking car. I steam as I drive at a faster pace. Oh! Oooh! That car...was familiar. Think Reba, think, where have I seen it before?? The muscles of my brain pulsate, its wheels turning. I strain, clenching my forehead. Where? The green color stuck out to me. Come on. I interrogate my mind. THINK!
My mind clicks with an answer.
It was about a week ago.
A memory responds:
An odd feeling hits me-a feeling of being surveyed. My eyes search the street, looking up and down it. A few cars are parked on the curb. Ones I recognized. All except for one. An old model, with no brand title, dark green, and just a few houses down. A driver is present. I squint, making out the silhouette of the person.
I stop the car with a screech, pulling over to the side of the road. That was the same car. I should have called it in! But who was it?? How long has that person been watching my house?? Before I spotted it the first time, I felt as if I was being monitored. I wasn't overthinking at all. I should've gone with my gut and marched up to the driver and cussed them out. Scared them off.
I need to stop with the should haves and ask Chris what this is about. Sam had beef with the driver; that's why there was a fucking standoff!!
Is this what Chris meant by messing up with something ? "Chris." I keep a light tone despite my hesitancy. "Chris?" My head tunes, finding my baby boy passed out on the backseat. Quicker than a millisecond, I screech down the street, steering the car like a madwoman.
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