Page 73 of Careless Hope
What a fucking peach, this Jim was.
“Okay, neither do I. Someone has to hear him, though right? I mean, it’s a quiet time of night, but someone has to notice him being a lunatic outside the doctor’s office and call the police?”
Lily shrugged. I actually wasn’t all that confident either.
“Caroline,” Lily whimpered, her eyes darting toward the door, “he’s not gonna stop.”
“Shh, it’s alright,” I lied, the taste of false reassurance bitter on my tongue. But even as I whispered comfort, my mind was a cyclone of frenzied thoughts. We needed help. Now.
“My watch!”
“Huh?”
I pulled my wrist up to look at the new smart watch my dad had given me when I took over. I had yet to use it for a singlething other than telling time and tracking my daily steps. But it could theoretically make calls. I hoped.
Fumbling with trembling fingers, I swiped at the screen, searching for the tiny microphone icon that suddenly seemed smaller than a needle in a haystack. “Call 911,” I commanded, my voice a strained whisper, hopeful the device would pick up on my urgency.
But instead of the reassuring tone of a dispatcher, silence greeted me. The signal bars taunted me with their absence, a stark reminder that technology had its limits, especially in Whittier, where the past often clung tighter than the present. The lone cell tower was clear on the other side of town.
“Come on,” I urged, tapping the watch face as if I could will it to connect. “This building gets the worst signal.”
Outside, Jim’s tirade continued, an ominous soundtrack to our desperation. “Don’t make me break this door down, Lily!”
“Stay quiet,” I told Lily, more firmly this time, as I fought the rising tide of panic. “I’m going to get us help, I promise.”
“Please hurry,” she breathed, her eyes reflecting the terror we both felt.
“Help is coming,” I assured her, though my confidence was faltering faster than a tumbleweed in a storm. I just hoped that somehow, someway, help would indeed arrive before those fists found their way through the door.
I tapped the call button, but once again, nothing happened. I couldn’t just give up. I had to try something else. Maybe a text would go through. Some big cities allowed you to text 911 but Whittier Falls was a long way off from that.
I swiped through the options, finding the message button and tapping it. I typed out a simple message I knew would do the trick and pressed send, hoping it would go through.
“Come on, signal. Don’t fail me now,” I urged under my breath.
The message seemed to hang in limbo before the word ‘Sent’ confirmed its departure. A tiny victory, but it was all we had.
“Done,” I said, allowing myself a hint of relief.
A sudden silence filled the air, heavy and foreboding. I held my breath, counting the heartbeats, wondering if Jim had finally retreated or if this was just the eye of the storm.
No sense in wasting time, I faced Lily and examined her eye, my fingers lightly tracing the contour of her cheekbone, assessing the damage. The black eye was swelling quickly, a dark testament to Jim’s rage.
“Okay, Lily,” I murmured, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. My hands were steady too—years of training had seen to that—but my heart thumped wildly against my chest. “I don’t think you have a fracture, but the bruising is intense.”
The limp she’d come in with worried me, too. “Can you move your leg for me?” I asked, trying not to show the concern etched deep within.
“A little,” she winced, her breath hitching as she tried to adjust.
“Easy does it,” I soothed, placing my hands on her lower leg with practiced care. The moment I tried to test the joint, she yelped in pain and I felt it. Tibial fracture.
A new round of furious pounding jolted us, the sound echoing off the walls like a drumbeat of impending doom. Jim’s voice, muffled by walls between us, was a snarl of anger and frustration. Each bang of his fist against the door felt like a sledgehammer to my resolve.
“Stay away from us, Jim!” I yelled back, more to keep my own fear at bay than to deter him. “The police are coming!”
That was a bluff, of course. With my watch hidden under the folds of my sleeve and the signal absent, our lifeline was thinner than a strand of barbed wire. I hadn’t received a reply. I just had to hope that help was coming.
“Caroline, I’m scared,” Lily whispered, clutching at the hem of her shirt, her eyes wide like a doe caught in the headlights on Route 29.
