Page 22 of Resolutions

“Excuse me?” His voice drops to arctic temperatures.

Wrong move. Then it hits me. Fuck the burner phone. The one he gave me. The one I was supposed to answer.

“YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE EVERY TIME IT FUCKING RINGS!” The explosion makes me flinch.

“I did answer-”

“DID YOU FORGET WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO?”

“No...”

“I gave you a phone FOR A REASON.”

“It's in the back-”

“I don't CARE where it is. Next time it rings, you better fucking answer it.” The sound of his voice is menacing. “Do you have any idea how many times I've called you?” His voice turns silky, which is somehow worse than the yelling. “Or do I need to start removing fingers to help you remember the rules? I'm sure the blood in the water will attract some friends.”

“Please, I just-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

I bolt upright, checking mirrors compulsively. Tears spill over my lids and run down my cheeks. I slide my hands under my thighs in an attempt to stop the shaking.

“I was going to congratulate you, little bunny, for finding such an obtuse place to sleep. But now I'm so angry, I'm going to-” The line goes dead.

Oh God. Going to what? What happened? I peer around. Not feeling very safe here, I start my car and pull out of the parking lot.

“Incoming call from Michael.”

Shit! “Yes?” I answer instantly, making sure I use a sweeter tone.

“I expect you to answer your phone EVERY TIME. Do. You. Understand?” His tone drips condescension, like scolding a disobedient child.

My breath comes in short gasps.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME!” The roar makes me jump. The car swerves onto the shoulder, rumble strips juddering through the steering wheel. Dum dum - dum dum - like the Jaws theme in my bones.

“Get. Back. On. The. Road. Mel.” Each word precise, controlled.

Oh God. Can he see me? I guide the car back into my lane, hands trembling.

“Good bunny. Now, will you answer when I call?”

Terror steals my voice. “Yes.”

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” He practically purrs.

“You said they'd be safe if I left!” The words burst out. “You said--” He interrupts me.

“I lied.”

“What? Are they...” Dead. The word sticks in my throat as tears spring forth. I instantly see my mom and aunt floating face-down. Bodies ebbing with the waves. My chest constricts. I can't breathe.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Melanie, they're fine. Stop being dramatic.”

I can barely speak, my question comes out in sobs, “h-how... how c-can I tr-ust that?”

“Because you have no choice.” He sounds delighted.

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