“Seems more like a guy waiting around for you to get over your infatuation with his uninterested friend so he can fuck you.”
Her head whips around so fast it makes her dizzy, just in time to see him throw his hands over his face and look up to the ceiling, clearly regretting his choices. “That was stupid. I’m sorry. After spending the day with you, I’m a little jealous of the relationship you two have.” He drops his hands, turning to her with big, sad eyes.
“I think you should go. I will see you at the gym tomorrow.” She snips, turning back to her task at hand. She holds it together for a count of ten after the door clicks closed before she rips a pillow from the couch, stuffs her face into it, and screams until her throat burns. When the anger subsides, Liz gets to work on unpacking the rest of her bags, placing each item as she goes. A plush, charcoal grey rug gets unrolled and pulled to sit under the front legs of the small couch, carefully placing the coffee table back in the center. A white throw blanket covered in small black bows is placed on the back of the couch, with matching throw pillows on each side. The coffee table gets topped with a black porcelain tray which winds up holding a set of two candles and a small vase of white flowers.
Taking more bags from where they are haphazardly strewn across the floor, Liz marches into Mikey’s room, dumping thebags on the floor, and getting to work. His bedding is stripped and replaced with pink and white checkered sheets, and topped with a white comforter covered in hand drawn style pink daisies and small pastel strawberries mixed in.
After swapping out the pillow cases and putting them back, Liz places a plush, furry pink pillow on top with a teddy bear sitting front and center. While she lucked out on finding a princess canopy for the bunk, she did find pink cherry blossom string lights that she hangs around the perimeter of the bed. Satisfied, she balls up the old bedding and shoves it in the closet, making a mental note to deal with it in the morning. By the time she is done, the clock reads 2:24 a.m. Unable and unwilling to do any further decorating, Liz crawls into bed, staring at the photo of her clinging to Riley, until she can’t hold her eyes open any longer.
That night, Liz dreams of being back in her cell. She knows she is not there––huddling in the corner, arm chained to the ground, gently rocking herself back and forth. Liz tells herself over and over again it isn’t real. But if it’s not real, why does it feel like it is?
The same sharp bite of pain as the metal cuffs cut into her raw wrists. The crumbling concrete floor freezing beneath her nearly naked body as blood slowly trickles from her freshly cut leg. Reaching for the cut, she remembers doing it once before, but it’s not a cut. It’s a small lump. The tracker, that was when they put it in her, the blood coming from the sheer size of the needle.
She takes a deep breath, trying to get her bearings, but the smell of urine mixed with blood has her gagging. She wonders what the point of knowing she’s in a dream is when she can’t change anything.
Footsteps echo in the distance, moving closer to her cell. Every hair on her body stands on end. Her heart rate picks up and she breaks out in a cold sweat.
She hoped to never hear those footsteps again in her life.
He was coming for her. She screams in frustration, wondering how she remembers this day but does not remember him coming to her cell.
Gunshots ring out in the distance, and the men in the halls start screaming at each other, yelling that he is there. It’s not right. She got sedated and stabbed in the leg, she never knew what happened in the time between that and when she came to. Everything begins blending together. One moment Dmitri was screaming at his men about getting chirinda ready, and the next, Riley is in front of her.
She springs to her feet, yanking as hard as she can on the chain holding her in place. She cannot ’stop the tears from flowing, telling him how happy she is to see him. He steps over and crouches down, like he can’t even see she is standing in front of him. She begs him to look up, to talk to her, and cries that she needs to see him. Her cries only grow louder as he starts to fade away, the walls around them morphing to a deep, endless black. She screams until her voice breaks, begging him not to leave her, crying pleas that never make it to his ears.
Her eyes snap open, face wet with tears shed while asleep.
Peering around the dark room, she wishes she could go back in, just to see him for a moment longer. She lies there, unmoving, wondering why her subconscious would force her to relive that day, more importantly, why it would make her remember that day wrong.
It hits her then, what if her mind wasn’t remembering wrong, but showing her what she heard while drugged?
She leaps from the bed, sprinting into the kitchen to grab the notebook she’s been using to write down all the strange things about Matt. Scribbling down every detail, circling chirinda until a hole nearly forms in the paper. The word was so out of place in herdream, she needs to ask Alex about it when they get back. She just has to endure four more days until then.
CHAPTER 9
The days leading up to the team’s return dragged by at a snail’s pace. Liz stands on the tarmac, bouncing on her toes with nervous energy. The plane should be emptying any minute, and when it does, she will finally know if they found him. One of the worst parts of being spec ops she has learned, is the fact that they cannot share any information while in the field. Any message can be intercepted at any time, so no details can be shared. Mikey sent sporadic messages letting Liz know he was alive, but other than that, nothing.
The hangar door groans open. Men and women in uniform slowly start filing out of the plane. Liz’s heart drops.
Riley isn’t with them.
If he were, he would be the first one taken off. She tries to hold out hope, thinking maybe they held him back so there isn’t a crowd. The look on Mikey’s face when he walks down the ramp says it all.
He finds her in the small group gathered to greet the team, dropping his eyes and giving his head a small shake. Her heart shatters in her chest. Panic claws at her core, wanting to go to herfriends and welcome them home, but she just can’t. She bites her cheek until she tastes blood. Turning on her heels, she jogs back to the housing complex, weaving through the people filling the halls until she is tucked safely back into her room. She doesn’t cry, doesn't scream or throw things. None of the things she wants so badly to do. Instead, she goes into her room, sliding down the closed door, and stares into nothingness.
Liz has no idea how long she sits like that when the door to the apartment opens. The moment she hears that the familiar creak of the unoiled hinges, the wall she put up comes crumbling down. Violent sobs wrack her body, wishing so badly that Riley was the one walking through that door.
Mikey’s heavy footsteps rush through the apartment, going through their shared bathroom and into hers. He drops to his knees, pulling her into his arms, and rocks gently back and forth. The scream that escapes between sobs comes from her soul. The kind of scream only someone who lost a piece of their very being can make.
“Why?” she screams through broken sobs. “Why can’t we find him?”
It’s a question he will never be able to answer.
“I don’t know, darlin. I don’t know. He was supposed to be there.” His arms squeeze tighter, heart breaking for her.
Two more sets of boots run through the apartment, throwing open the connecting door to find them huddled on the floor, crying together. Liz looks up at them through wet lashes, unable to stop herself from the anger churning inside, and she screams.
“IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” Shoving Mikey off, Liz stands, storming to where Alex and Tyler stand wide eyed. “You all fucking did this. I told you. I told you so many fucking times that man is trying to make sure Riley is never found! You keep pretending he wants to find Riley but he wants him fuckingdead!” she shrieks, stepping up to Alex until they’re practically touching, chest heaving with each shuddering breath. “Get out. I want everyone out right fucking now,” she orders as calmly as she can muster. She sees the hurt in their eyes as they file out the door, but she can’t be bothered to care, instead slamming the door behind them.
