Page 21 of Wanted

He’s a liar.

A coward.

A thief who took advantage of me and stole my heart, for what? That is what I am going to find out today.

Taking firm, determined steps, I go back to the room in search of something to wear in my suitcase.

I know fate doesn’t care about the plans we made, and the fucker has a twisted sense of humor. But I’ll have my armor well set for war.

Although I don’t feel like it, I take a long shower, and I make an effort to primp myself a little. I braid my hair, leaving a few strands loose around my face. I’ve never been a friend of makeup, but a little mascara and lip gloss won’t hurt, and I pinch my cheeks to give them a little color. I still have those horrible dark circles under my eyes, but nothing can be done about those. Considering the shitty situation I’m currently in, I think I look pretty decent.

Last night, before leaving, Jackson told me that he had opened an account with the hotel. That I could ask for anything I need and it would be charged to the room.

The truth is, I’m not sure, but in my heart, it feels like another test. They want to assess my intentions.

They don’t know a single thing about me, but soon… they will.

I’m ready to go and it’s not even seven in the morning. I’ve been waiting for someone to pick me up and take me to the hospital.

I’m thinking of what to do, when the black screen of my phone lights up with an incoming call. I run to answer, thinking it is my mother, with her being in a different time zone. It is already after ten back in Carrollton, so she must have already finished her morning routine and is done caring for my bees.

But to my surprise, it’s Lionel’s name flashing on the screen.

I let it ring, I’m not sure I should answer it. But in the end, curiosity gets the best of me, so I swipe to answer the call.

“Hello,” I say, expecting to hear his voice on the other side of the line.

But in return, I only hear silence.

“Lionel?” I call out, why is he calling if he’s not going to speak? “Lionel, is something wrong?”

I hear someone breathing on the phone, but no words come.

“Lionel, is that you?” I insist, and then I remember Jackson telling me last night Lionel’s phone disappeared after the attack, so I decide to end this evil game.

I’m not in the mood for pranks.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I screech.

Again, the silence and when I’m about to hang up, the same voice that so often has sworn its love for me says, “Don’t forget that you’re mine, Stella.”

“Lionel?” I scream like a possessed woman. But it’s in vain, the call ends abruptly.

What fucked up game is this?

Why is he trying to confuse me, torture me?

Wasn’t what happened at the hospital enough for him?

I drop onto the luxurious bed, leaning my body over the mountain of pillows, looking at the thin band on my finger.

Wondering over and over, what the fuck is going on?

* * *

At eight sharp, someone knocks on the door. I’m still in the same place since the call ended. I’ve been hesitant about calling Jackson because I know he has two little daughters who need a lot of attention, so I thought it better to wait for him to go to the hospital first then tell him about what happened. Besides, my phone might be tapped.

God, I think I’ve seen too many episodes of Criminal Minds, I’m already going crazy. I’m a nobody. Until a few days ago, no one outside my small town knew Lionel was my husband. I’ve lived in the same place all my life, I come from the total opposite of this world. What would someone like him want from me? It’s insane, the very idea almost makes me laugh.

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