Page 60 of Journey to Love

My mom steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Darling, first things first, I need you to breathe and try to calm down before you hyperventilate," she says gently, guiding me to the couch and urging me to sit down. "Second, have you tried calling her grandparents or her friend Lana?" she suggests calmly.

I shake my head, a sense of helplessness washing over me. "I don't have their numbers," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel utterly powerless in the face of Anya's potential danger.

My mom's face reflects my growing anxiety as she considers our options. "Okay, Jacob, let's not panic," she says soothingly, guiding me back to the couch. "We need to approach this logically."

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as I listen to her words. "But what do we do? Anya might be in trouble, and I don't know how to help her from here," I admit, feeling utterly helpless.

My mom places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Jacob," she reassures me. "Do you know anyone else besides Lana or her grandparents, who might be able to check on her."

I shake my head no, feeling the frustration build inside me.

My mom's expression shifts as she considers our limited options. "We could try calling the local authorities near Anya's address," she suggests. "They might be able to do a wellness check or provide us with more information."

The idea settles uneasily in my mind, but I know it's our best shot at ensuring Anya's safety from a distance. With a sense of determination, I nod in agreement. "Let's do it," I say, reaching for my phone to make the call. As the line rings, my heart pounds with anticipation, hoping that we'll soon have some answers about Anya's well-being.

"Hello, this is the Lakefront County Police Department, how can I assist you?" a woman's voice answers on the other end of the line.

"Good evening, my name is Jacob Callahan. I was just on a phone call with my girlfriend when she heard a loud knock at her door. She sounded scared, and when she went to check who it was, there was a scream, and then the line went dead," I explain urgently.

"Have you tried calling her back?" the woman asks, her tone slightly impatient.

"Yes, but there was no answer!" I reply, feeling the frustration mounting.

"Alright, sir. Maybe she will call you back," she suggests nonchalantly, and I feel my frustration boiling over.

"I think she's in danger! Can't you send someone to check on her?" I plead desperately.

"Sir, it's the middle of the night, and it's a Friday. All of our officers are busy with emergencies happening all over the county. We won't be able to send someone to your girlfriend's house for a while. Your best bet is to either wait it out or you can drive there yourself," she responds sternly, her tone growing annoyed.

"I DON'T LIVE THERE! I LIVE FOUR HOURS AWAY!" I shout, my panic rising. My mom intervenes, grabbing the phone from me, gesturing for me to write down Anya’s address, and then telling me to stay put.

After what feels like an eternity, my mom returns with my phone in hand. "They will be sending someone soon," she informs me, her voice filled with reassurance. As she heads back upstairs, she turns back to me, offering words of comfort. "Jacob, it will be alright. Why don't you try to sleep? I know it may be difficult in the state you are in right now, but we did what we could for now," she says gently before disappearing upstairs. Left alone with my thoughts, I try to find solace in her words, but the worry gnaws at me relentlessly.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Anya

"Shit!" I curse under my breath as I watch the blood trickle down my arm, the broken glass vase lying shattered on the floor. The dining room chair lies on its side, a casualty of my failed attempt to catch the falling vase. With a begrudging sigh, I open the door to the insistent knocking, my irritation mounting.

"What the fuck do you want?" I snap harshly as I glare at Caleb, Lana's companion from the Fourth of July festivities.

"Where is Lana?" he demands, his eyes darting past me into the house.

"She's not here! Not that it's any of your damn business! Now, why the fuck were you pounding on my door at this ungodly hour?" I retort angrily, my patience wearing thin.

"I need to find her, okay?" he snaps back, his frustration mirroring mine.

I scoff, "and I need to bandage my arm because you scared the living shit out of me pounding on my goddamn door and then having your ugly ass face pressed up against the goddamn window! Which caused me to fall back and knock over a glass vase and cut up my arm!" I fire back, my voice laced with irritation.

"Look, I'm sorry I scared you, I just need to find her!" Caleb pleads, his desperation evident in his tone.

I glare at him, my lips pursed tightly. "After what you just put me through, I don't give a fuck—"

Before I can finish my sentence, the sound of multiple police cars pulling up outside interrupts us. My heart races as officers swarm toward us, their guns drawn. Caleb and I stand there, frozen in shock, with our hands raised. The movement causes the blood to drip down my arm, staining the floor.

One of the officers points his gun at Caleb. "Get down on the ground!" he commands, his voice authoritative and commanding.

Caleb, fear evident in his eyes, complies with the order. He glares at me accusingly. "You fucking bitch! You called the cops on me?!" he snarls.

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