Page 31 of Tormented By Regret

She nodded, gripping my forearm. "I promise, Lee. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going anywhere.”

"That’s a good girl. Come on…"

I reached for her hand, pulling her up and guiding her back into the room with me.

"Hurry up and get ready, we've got to move."

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

I turned to her, her eyes bright with concern and full of questions. She had the right to an explanation, I knew this. But I also understood that the less she knew the better it would be for her.

I reached up and gripped her chin lightly. "I'll tell you soon. Just know I'm not here to control you or take away your freedom. Everything I do from here on out, I do to protect you from any harm. Understood?"

She gave me a quick nod and then flung herself into my arms. The words she spoke next, disarmed me. "I'm sorry. Whatever it was that brought this sadness into your eyes...I'm so very sorry."

I hugged her tightly, though it was more for my comfort than hers. When I let her go, I turned away quicky. She had already witnessed too much of my vulnerability for one day.

"Let's get going."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, and I smiled as I watched her running around to do as I asked.

While packing my own bag, I was taken aback by the sight of my own smile in the mirror. It only deepened my guilt. It felt like I was betraying her, my Lucy. I cursed myself, feeling a chill creeping over me.

"Be outside in fifteen," I snapped, catching myself instantly, aware that the anger I was directing at Whisper was unfair. She didn't deserve that either.

Slamming the door shut behind me I took a deep breath and went out to get Blue, my new bike, ready for the trip.

When I stepped out into the nearly empty parking lot, I came across my broken cell phone, the screen shattered and the phone dead. Cursing, I made a mental note to get myself a new one and instead, I veered toward the front desk. The same old man who greeted us the night before sat in a stool, a coffee mug pressed to his lips, the newspaper opened in front of him.

"That pay phone out there still works, friend?"

"Old as hell but she does the job."

I nodded and placed a dollar bill in front of him. "You got quarters?"

"Sure do," he smiled and opened up the register, taking out four quarters and placing them in front of me.

I took them and placed the keys to the room on the counter.

"You two kids, be careful out there. Lots of crazies killin' people lately." He nodded up at the screen, the sight of Ron Hargrave's sketched face made me falter. The news anchor was reporting the murder of the newest victim.

I couldn't handle it and flew out the door as quickly as humanly possible. Stumbling against the wall I felt the bile rise up in my throat and I bent over for a second, thinking I might puke.

After a moment I reached up for the pay phone. Taking the receiver off the handle and placing a quarter in the slot, I dialed the only number I knew by memory. The clubhouse."

Someone answered on the first ring. "Yup.”

“Who is this?”

“You’re calling us, shouldn’t you be giving me your information?”

The thick southern accent and smartass comments gave him away. “Hellsing, it’s Powertrain.”

“Jesus, brother. You sent this whole fucking clubhouse into a fit. No one’s been able to sleep all night."

"I'm okay, Helsing. We’re okay."

His voice lowered with concern. "Listen, we heard what happened."

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