Stay(81)

“Oh,” Lily said and shook her head. “I forgot he does that. I thought I could like see spirits or something. I was so sure he was dead.”

“Me too. He really did get shot.”

Lily’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

I nodded. Lily scrunched her face and looked down. I knew she was internally battling the truth versus whatever the hell she had been brainwashed with.

“He wouldn’t have gotten shot if he did what he was told,” she said and sounded just like Rochelle.

I didn’t want to argue. I knew there was no point. I just nodded and rolled over on the lumpy mattress, wondering how many years of therapy it would take to fix Lily and Rochelle.

I pulled the quilt over my head and listened to Rochelle talk to Lily. Lily told Rochelle that she was tired of working so much. Rochelle abruptly changed the subject and told Lily that her clients loved her. She was a lot more obvious than Zane in her attempt to manipulate, but she was getting good. About an hour later, Rochelle finally shut up.

My headache was feeling more and more like a migraine again. I needed to sleep it off. I forced my eyes shut and focused on taking slow, steady breaths while thinking about Jackson until I drifted to sleep.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





I WAS WARM, almost to the point of being hot. I pushed the old quilt back, enjoying the coldness of the basement that for the first time all winter. Then my eyes flew open. Why wasn’t I cold? I sat up and noticed that a thick fleece blanket had been draped over me. I ran my fingers over the blue fabric and smiled.

A plate of buttered toast, apple slices, and three sausage patties sat was waiting for me, along with a glass of milk. I grabbed it and devoured the sausage. It was slightly warmer than room temperature. I must have just missed Jackson. I looked around the room. Rochelle and Lily were gone, and Phoebe was still asleep.

I put the empty plate down, the ceramic clinking against the cement floor. Then I saw something sticking out from under the blue blanket. I pulled it back and found a black hooded sweatshirt. It was oddly folded with the sleeves tied together, creating a strange ball of material. I picked it up and realized something was tucked inside.#p#分页标题#e#

A smile immediately pulled up my face. I slowly opened the book. The binding was cracked, and the edges of the cover were worn from being read over and over. I closed it and ran my fingers over the title.

“Gone with the Wind,” I whispered and smiled again. I pushed my pillow against the wall, wrapped the blue fleece blanket around my shoulders, and opened the book. I read each line as slow as I possibly could, savoring every second of reading I was able to get.

I was so enthralled in the story that I didn’t hear Phoebe get up until she coughed. I jerked my attention away from the book. Phoebe staggered out of bed, her gait unsteady.

“Phoebe?” I asked and set the book down. I slid it under my pillow just in case. “Are you okay?”

“Khoẻ, cảm ơn,” she said in her native language.

“What?”

She repeated herself, looking confused as to why I wasn’t responding.

“English, please,” I said. My voice shook. Phoebe’s olive complexion was pale, with large blotches on her cheeks and hands. She had deep bags under her eyes, and her lips were chapped.

I got up and rushed over to her side. “You probably have what I had,” I said, though deep down I knew it was more than a mild case of the flu. “I’ll tell Jackson. He’ll bring you something.”

Phoebe coughed again and put her hand out, needing help. Her skin was hot to the touch. I led her to the shower and turned on the water. She sank down on the stool in front of the vanity. I grabbed a rag, held it under the icy water, and wrung it out.

“This should help,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice calm. I placed it on the back of her neck. “You need to drink lots of fluids too. Once the fever goes down you’ll feel better. I did.”

She just nodded and rested her head in her hands. After she went to the bathroom and took a fast shower, I tucked her back into bed and brought her a banana.

“If you run,” she began and peeled the banana, “find my family. Tell them truth.”

“I won’t have to. You’ll tell them because you’ll run too.”

“Too tired to run,” she mumbled.

“Today,” I said and tried to convince myself it was true. “Today you are.” I shook my head. “And I don’t have a good plan yet. I need to figure out how to take this damn ankle bracelet off without causing the alarm to sound.”

“Yes,” she said and ate the banana. She said she was tired and laid down again.