Page 13 of Love Fire

“No,” I say with a scoff. “You’re not escaping that easily.”

“Please! You can keep me handcuffed the whole time! I just need to be with her!”

“No.” The fear on her face is almost enough to convince me but I need to hold strong.

“You know iridescent is nothing to fuck with. If she relapsed on it, she needs help now.”

She’s right. I saw it with Alessandro. This Maria does need help. I almost want to say yes. Though, if I keep saying no, she might start to beg me. That I’d like to see. I’d love to have that power over her.

“Please,” she says while looking straight in my eyes. Her voice quivers with desperation in a way that cuts to my soul. Every thought I had of manipulating the situation for my own gain subsides. Maria needs our help.

“Fine, but when we leave, you need to do everything I say.” She nods.

Still handcuffed, I toss her into the passenger seat of my car and hop behind the wheel. I put the address into my GPS and we are off. Hopefully we won’t be too late.

We are about halfway to where Maria said she was when Erin’s phone rings again. I check and it's Maria calling. I look at Erin.

“Answer it! She may need more help” she yells at me. I can’t help but feel a little excited at her raising her voice at me like that. In any other context, I might linger in the moment. I connect Erin’s phone to my car’s Bluetooth and answer the call. Both Erin and I are shocked by what we hear. Instead of Maria’s voice, a male’s is heard through the speakers.

“She’s not moving! She’s not breathing, what do I do?”

13

ERIN

“Just take her to fucking hospital,” I shout into the phone.

A deadline is my answer.

Shit.

He’s not going to take her. I knew he wouldn’t but I still had to try. Every instinct inside me is on high alert. I have to get to Maria and fast.

“We don't have much time. Drive faster!” I yell at Brent.

I can see her, her body lying lifeless on the floor. The same woman that had worked so tirelessly for her sobriety. All she wants is a new life, so why did she go back? What made her relapse?

“Clam down, she has someone with her. I’m sure he can handle it,” he says dismissively.

I glare at him incredulously through the rearview mirror. “Addicts won't just drive someone to the hospital.” My voice rises with each word. “Even if they die, they're too worried about getting in trouble to risk their neck. I’m who she has, and if we don't get there in time…,” my voice cracks.

His eyes soften, a movement so swift I don't have time to consider what it means before I’m jolted back by the acceleration of the car. Relief floods my system as I realize that Brent is listening.

“Thanks,” I say, startled by how genuine it feels.

Brent wordlessly gives a noncommittal shrug and keeps driving.

Now I just have to hope that we can make it in time.

We pull up to the building a few minutes later. I’m pretty sure Brent broke a few traffic laws to get here this fast but I’m not complaining. Brent takes me out of the car, keeping a tight grip on my cuffs – asshole.

There are a few dangerously thin people outside. Some are leaning against the wall of the house as if they need support to stand, others are sprawled out on the floor, eyes glassy, off in some distant twisted version of a better reality. Then there were a few in various states of self-administration, perching on the railings like birds on a cable.

No one looks our way. Not when we step through the front door with a hole where a lock should have been, or when we walk through the wide abandoned rooms of the old tattered building. No one looked as we strode across the dirty and lifting floors, why would they, I’m pretty sure they barely know each other.

I move carefully through each room avoiding the places where the floorboards are completely absent. More people fill the littered rooms lying on top of a few stained mattresses lined by the walls. Piles of soiled blankets, bottles, cans, needles, and empty food containers took up any available space beside them.

“Maria!” I called as we went from room to room.

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