Page 73 of The Senator: Raphael

“Yes. Because I want to relive that memory and I can’t. Because we’re so busy doing everything else that we forget to celebrate the moments we spend with the people we love. It matters because you might not see them again for the rest of your life and you lost the opportunity to be happy with them.” I find the courage to look at him in the eyes and I can see the pain he’s going through.

“They’re not dead, Silver. You’ll see them again,” he whispers.

I shake my head with a sad smile. “In the beginning I hoped so. God knows I tried to figure out a way to resolve the situation and reunite with my family. But there is no happy ending for me. Not even a normal life apart from them. See what happens when I try to have a normal existence with you?”

“You can be happy. Don’t doubt that. You can’t give up now,” he pleads.

“Stop, Raphael. Stop it right now. Don’t give me false hope. Don’t do that to me, please.” A hiccup shakes my chest and I realize I’m crying.

Raphael wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. I’m falling apart and nothing, nobody can keep me together, not even Raphael with his promises and good intentions.

A knock on the door startles both of us.

“Sorry to interrupt. The sketch artist arrived a few minutes ago.” Matthew’s low voice makes us turn toward the door.

“Give us a minute.” It’s more an order from Raphael than a request.

I don’t know if they got into a fight or if they’re both just stressed, but the tension between them is palpable. It’s increased almost daily since I started living here.

“No, I’m fine. Really, I don’t need a minute. The sooner we get that sketch, the better.” I stand up and open the bedroom door, tired of this day, of all the people inside this house, of the crazy criminals out there. I’m just tired and I want this to be over.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Raphael reassures me, but with one glance at his best friend I see that he doesn’t agree.

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.”

I can see he wants to protest, but thinks better of it and follows me out of the bedroom without a word. The living room is bustling with people. Some I know, others are completely new faces. They all turn when we walk in, staring for a few heartbeats, and then turn back to whatever they were doing before we interrupted. It’s like they’re trying hard not to make me feel uncomfortable, which actually makes me feel even more, well, uncomfortable. I’m not used to all this attention and I’d rather disappear than be on the receiving end of their stares.

“The sketch artist is in Raphael’s office.” Matthew guides me through the living room.

I follow him inside the office, noticing that Raphael is not right behind us. The head of the security is talking to him, but when he feels my gaze on him, he snaps his eyes toward me and gives me a warm smile. It’s a small gesture, but it sustains me long enough to enter the room and not feel trapped.

The woman in front of me shakes my hand and invites me to sit next to her on the couch. Sven, who was with her in the room, gives me a nod and walks out with Matthew on his heels, reassuring me they are just outside if I need anything. When they close the door, I let out a sigh.

“Long day, huh?” she asks gently.

I don’t remember her name. It’s an odd thing to notice, but I just realize she told me her name and I don’t recall what it is.

“You can say that again,” I murmur, rubbing a couple of fingers over my eyes.

“We’ll do this as fast as we can. Okay?” Her voice is calm, but her look tells me she’s assessing me. Probably to see if I’m going to cry, freak out, or have any some other kind reaction to this situation.

“And then what?” I ask, because it’s been bothering me since everything started to crumble around me. What am I going to do? I’m trapped in this house with a man who doesn’t love me, not in the romantic way. He cares about me, sure, but love is a completely different thing altogether.

“And then we wait.” She gives me a compassionate smile.

We wait. The one thing I don’t want to do. It’s being eight years. I’ve waited eight years for the other shoe to drop and now I have to wait longer. It’s like waiting for your death sentence to be carried out. You’re terrified, but at some point you just can’t stand to wait anymore, and you’d rather just get it over with than be tortured with the idea of death.

“Are you a cop?” I ask, not sure where she comes from. I have no idea where most of the men in this house today are coming from. They’re scary looking enough to be Raphael’s father’s entourage, but I can’t be sure about that.

“I work for the police department but today I’m here because I’m Sebastian’s friend,” she explains and I realize they didn’t involve the police.

I don’t know if this scares me or not. Sometimes I wonder what Raphael’s father does for a living, other times I decide I don’t want to know. From what I’ve gathered living here, he doesn’t question his father’s business practices. As though he doesn’t want to get involved in shady things. And maybe this is what I need right now. The people that should have had my back, the official channels that got me into the protection program, failed to follow those two people. Maybe this is the only hope I have to survive this.

Describing and drawing the man who followed me took longer than I expected. A couple of hours later, I walk out of the office with a million doubts about my description and the woman’s reassurance that it’s normal to feel like you described a completely different person.

The living room is quieter now, but people are just spread out around the house, they didn’t leave the premises. Some of the security team is on the patio, others in the kitchen. Sebastian is setting up computers and other gear on the dining table. They’re all busy doing something. Even Matthew is frowning at his computer and doesn’t even notice me. A small victory for me, I couldn’t stand his judgmental face right now.

The only one who seems lost is Raphael. He is sitting on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. His shoulders are hunched like he’s carrying the weight of the world. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this. He’s always so put together; my heart aches to see him so defeated. I walk to him and without saying a word I reach out my hand. He looks up at me and says nothing. He just stares into my eyes, looking for answers I can’t give him. I grab his hand and guide him out of the room, away from the problems and into the safe bubble of our bedroom.

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