Page 24 of Can You Take It?

“I’ll be there.”

I hang up the phone, grab my jacket, and rush out of the office. There’s something about Lucas’s tone that tells me this can’t wait.

Chapter 9

IZEL

An hour earlier…

My nerves are stretched to their limit. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been stuck in this house for over forty-eight hours now. Detective Lucas Brown is like a guard dog. He is not letting me out and I’ve had enough. I can’t let them keep me trapped here. I need to devise a perfect escape plan.

I walk into the kitchen, careful to avoid those obnoxious creaky floorboards. Who designed this place, anyway? It’s like a soundtrack for a horror movie. I rummage through the drawers and cabinets with purpose, finally striking gold – Richard’s spare keys hanging by the back door. Seriously, could he be any more predictable? I grab them and silently move out of the kitchen.

I head towards the living room, where Lucas is glued to the TV, watching a heated match between the Lakers and the Celtics. He's so engrossed that I doubt he'd notice if the house was on fire.

“Hey, Lucas,” I say casually. “I’m just going to my room to grab my phone, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he mumbles, barely glancing in my direction.

I slip down the hallway, but instead of going to my room, I make a detour to Richard’s. If anyone’s got a spare gun lying around, it’s him. I start opening drawers, feeling a bit like Goldilocks. Too much junk in one, too many papers in another. Then I pause and think, Where would Richard hide something valuable?

I open his underwear drawer, and bingo – there it is, tucked under a pile of neatly folded briefs. I take the gun and check the safety.

I walk back out into the hallway. Thankfully, Lucas is still engrossed in his stupid game. He doesn’t even look up as I walk past him and head out the back door.

I make my way to the side of the house, sticking to the walls and moving as silently as possible. There’s a small opening in the fence that leads to the neighbor’s backyard. I’ve checked it a dozen times; it’s my best shot.

I squeeze through the opening, praying I won’t get caught. Once on the other side, I know I can’t make a run for it, not with the cops so close. I need a diversion.

I pull out the gun, take a deep breath, and fire two shots into the air to my opposite direction. The sound echoes through the neighborhood, sending the officers in the front scrambling. They bolt towards the source of the noise, shouting at each other in confusion.

This is my moment. I ditch the gun in a nearby bush and make a beeline for the street. My heart’s in my throat as I round the corner, and that’s when I see a parked car with the keys still in the ignition. I don’t know whose car it is, but I don’t care. I jumpin, start the engine, and peel out of there, leaving a cloud of dust in my wake.

I’m on the run now, there’s no going back. I’ve taken my chances and I’m out in the open. But the question is, where the hell do I go from here?

Present…

I park the car a few blocks away, making sure to choose a spot where it won’t be easily noticed. After locking the door, I start walking, blending in with the crowd until I spot a small coffee shop up ahead. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits me as I step through the door. I order a sandwich and a black coffee, needing something to steady my nerves. I find a corner table, and settle in. As I sip my coffee, my mind starts drifting back to a night from ten years ago. It’s a night much like this one, the city cloaked in darkness, and me, running for my life.

September 14, 2014, 11:45:58 PM.

I keep running as the sirens blare in the distance. I find a place, a rickety old building that seems abandoned. Desperation drives me to try the door, and to my surprise, it creaks open. The inside is as cold as ice, and I have nothing, no clothes, no money, no one to contact. No one who loves me.

I don’t give up, though. I can’t. I scavenge around for something to keep warm. I stumble upon a dusty old blanket. It smells like mildew, but it’s a lifeline.

I huddle beneath that old blanket, shivering in the cold. The wind howls outside like a pack of hungry wolves, and I clingto that pathetic piece of cloth like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

But I know I need more than just warmth. My stomach growls with hunger. I need to find food. So, I venture back out into the night.

I stumble upon a group of strangers, huddled around a makeshift fire in a barrel. They look at me with curiosity.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing out here?” one of them asks.

“I... I got nowhere to go. I’m lost.” It’s a half-truth, but it’s the only story I have.

They share a few glances. “You want some food?” another guy says, holding out a half-eaten sandwich. It isn’t much, but it’s everything to me at that moment.

I take the sandwich, thanking them with a lump in my throat. “Thank you. I... I don’t know what to say.”

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