I moved next to Gram. “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’ll be back a little later.” With that, I kissed her cheek and headed for my bike.
Pop and Uncle Talon helped me get a motorcycle for my 18thbirthday, despite Gram’s valiant protests. From the moment I got it, Annabelle and I were on my bike every chance we got. As I rode to Annabelle’s house, I could almost feel her arms around me, could almost hear her laughter being carried away by the wind. I refused to believe the last time she was on the back of my bike was the last time.
I parked my bike in her driveway and walked right up to the front door and started banging on it. After several rounds of knocking and waiting, I walked to each window and peered inside. Months had passed since I left, yet it appeared no one was, or had been, living there.
When I came to the flimsy back door, I eyed it for a few brief moments before deciding I didn’t give a shit and kicked the fucker open with my booted foot. I stepped into the house I had only been in a few times before and surveyed the area. What little had once been in the house was completely gone. Still, I refused to believe what I was seeing.
Upon entering Annabelle’s room, the truth finally hit me like a battering ram. She was gone. She’d been gone for months, just like Pop said, judging by the layer of dust on the window sill. Her room was completely bare, not a single piece of evidence to prove she ever lived in this space.
I lost it. I threw punch after punch and kick after kick into the walls until I couldn’t feel my hands or feet anymore. Stumbling back into the wall, I clutched my chest and tried desperately to breathe. I slid down the wall until my ass hit the floor. Sucking in a large breath, I screamed my pain into the stale air while rivers of tears streamed down my face.
She was gone.
My Annabelle was gone.
Hours passed.
The tears finally ran dry.
I remained on the floor.
I couldn’t bring myself to leave the last place where I had any hope of finding her. In my mind, if I left, it would all be real. As long as I was there waiting for her, she would come back. She would know I was there and come back.
Pop found me on the floor of her bedroom well after the sun had gone down. He silently sat down beside me and placed his arm around my shoulders. He never once asked me if I was okay or told me I needed to leave. He just waited with me until I was able to walk out of that house by my own choice, which ended up being around 7am the next morning.
Gram was waiting for us on the front porch, nervously pacing back and forth. When I was within arm’s reach, she hugged me tightly and tried to ease the pain of my broken heart. Nothing short of finding Annabelle would take away any of the pain.
“Phoenix, honey, your hands,” Gram gasped. “I think we need to go to the hospital.”
“Let him be, love. The only thing hurting him right now is his heart and there’s nothing the hospital can do for that,” Pop said.
I left them on the porch and stumbled to my room in a daze. I managed to get a few hours of sleep before I set out and scoured the town. I asked anyone and everyone I could find about Annabelle and her parents. No one had any answers. I tried to track down Macy, but Pop told me she moved away after she and Aaron broke up and Annabelle disappeared. Pop said he still talked to her every now and then, but he waited for her to call him because it was hard for her to talk about Annabelle.
I spent the entire two weeks of my leave relentlessly searching for any clues as to what happened to my girl. I was devastated when my time was up and I had to return to base. I needed more time to search. I considered taking my chances and not returning, but Pop convinced me otherwise by promising to continue searching for her in my absence.
So, with a tearful goodbye, I left my grandparents’ house and returned to base not knowing what happened to the love of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
Annabelle
I woke up feeling like crap. My back was killing me and the stupid Braxton-Hicks contractions wouldn’t let up. “Slightly uncomfortable” my ass. These fuckers hurt. To top it off, apparently, I peed in the bed while I was sleeping. Heaving myself out of bed, I waddled to the bathroom and quickly realized two things. I hadn’t peed in the bed and I wasn’t having Braxton-Hicks contractions.
Wrapping my arms around my large belly, I doubled over in pain when the next contraction hit. As soon as I was able to take a breath, I screamed, “Octavius!”
He walked into the bathroom attached to my bedroom and studied me. His eyes held nothing but contempt. “What is it, Annelle?”
Was he fucking serious? “It’s time, Octavius. The baby is coming,” I gritted out.
He nodded. “Well, let’s get you over to see the doctor,” he said, sounding bored.
He took his sweet time covering the car seat with trash bags so I didn’t ruin the interior of his car with my “fluids of life,” his words, not mine. If I physically could have, I would have kneed him in the balls. Could he not tell I was in a significant amount of pain and needed medical attention ASAP? Of course, he could; he just didn’t care. I don’t know why I thought he might have some sort of compassion for me.
When we arrived at the clinic on the farm, I waddled inside without any assistance from Octavius. He walked right past the receptionist and through the door that led to the patient rooms in the back of the clinic, leaving me standing in the waiting room clutching my stomach and grunting with each contraction.
He returned a few minutes later and instructed me to follow him. He led me to a room in the very back corner of the clinic. It looked more like Dr. Frankenstein’s lab than any clinic room I had ever seen before.
“Climb up on the table, Annelle,” the doctor said.
