Page 21 of Shade
You’re probably wondering why does it skip a beat, aren’t you?
It does because I usually never hear from Reece. Sure, we’re always trying to track down Rhya about once every few months, but after my last interaction with her, if she’s missing, I know what thatcouldmean.
Me: No. Not lately.
8:03 p.m. Can you feel the time ticking by slowly like I can? Can you feel the minutes passing by, one click slower than the next?
Reece:I can’t get a hold of her and I went to her apartment, but there was no answer.
8:07 p.m. Do you see the way my body breaks out into a cold sweat?
Me: I’ll try calling her and see if she picks up for me.
Even if she sees my number, she won’t answer, but I have to at least try. Over the last four days since I was at her apartment, I’ve sent her a dozen messages, even though I said I wouldn’t and she hasn’t answered a single one.
Idon’ttry calling her. Maybe I’m afraid to hear her voice. I’m not sure on that one. But I do send a text message first. It’s not like Rhya ever picks up the phone anyway. You saw how hard it was to get a hold of her the other day. Took twenty-some calls before she called back. How do you think it’s going to go now?
We’re back to time.
It’s 8:09 p.m. and I’m sending her a message. Can you see me there? The one visibly swallowing over bile, the unnatural stiffness to his body causing his shoulders to shake with exertion. He’s losing it. He’s flinching at the sound of noises around him, unable, unwilling to lift his gaze.
Me: Where are you? Reece is trying to find you. The least you can do is call your brother.
Nothing. Three minutes. Someone beside me takes my phone from me. I say something to her. . . I don’t know what. My mind is numb, actions uncontrolled, and if I had to describe the feeling rooted inside of me, I’d say coming out of unconsciousness. The feeling when you first come to and everything around you is completely disoriented. I’m rooted in a haze of uncertainty.
8:12 p.m.
Me: Rhya, seriously. Goddamn it. Answer. ME. Or I’m calling the fucking police.
8:14 p.m.
Two minutes. My thoughts spin and I lift my eyes to the elevator doors. Around me people are talking but I hear none of it. Couldn’t even tell you who’s standing next to me, just that someone is and she’s clinging to my side. I don’t even remember bringing girls with us from the bar, but I want them gone. Now.
My phone dings, as do the elevator doors. They open with a swish, Tiller nudging me to exit. I don’t. Slowly my eyes drop to my phone, the bright screen dimmed by my sunglasses.
My breathing, it’s amplified, two quick breaths in, one long sigh out. Despite my death grip on my phone, I nearly drop it when I see shefinallyreplied to my message. Then I read it and wish I hadn’t.
Rhya: I couldn’t save myself, but I can still save you. . . .
