The Delinquent's First Love

The Delinquent's First Love - Thirty-Seven

The Delinquent's First Love – Thirty-Seven

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Staying at the same place as Eric was quite the torture for me. For one, I wanted to comfort him and tell him everything's going to be alright. It's hard to know that you couldn't do anything. The only help we could give to the cops was to stay put and wait for them to call us. I was also kind of hoping that he'd come to me and ask if he could stay the night in my room. But neither of us made the move.

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The morning I woke up, he's already up. He was by the open window and just standing there, hugging himself for comfort and assurance.

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"Morning," I greeted softly. "You've had breakfast?"

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There was no acknowledgment from him but just a shake of his head.

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"I can make you coffee, if you want?" I offered. I was afraid to stand beside him. I was afraid of him.

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"It's okay," he finally said.

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"Okay. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen." I lingered for few seconds but he didn't turn around.

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Grandma woke up and greeted me a good morning in the kitchen. I poured her a cup of coffee. Grandpa had recovered from the accident and was usually resting in their room.

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"Your boyfriend seems distant," grandma commented as she settled on a chair.

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I sighed. "He's not my boyfriend anymore." She was bewildered for some reason. "Some things are best left unexplained," I told her.

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She sat up and poured another cup of coffee. She grabbed the newspaper on the table and said before leaving, "But sometimes, it's better if you talk things through."

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And I was baffled. I never thought in a million years, grandma would give me some advice about how I handle situations I was into.

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Lunch by came and Eric hadn't moved a muscle from where he was standing at. I was just about done with my food when the phone started ringing. The police listening on to the call was already on position and Eric had already answered it.

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I ran to his side as he talked the person on the other line.

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"Oh, thank God," he said. "Thank you so much. Was he with you now?" I waited for him to say something positive again but the next thing I heard were, "What? What do you mean he escaped again?"

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I stepped back and ran back to my room. If I assumed right, the person on the other line was Officer Marian and she was calling to tell that Eric's mom was saved. But the bad news was so obvious I fell down on the floor.

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Mr. Cameron got away again. I was still not safe.

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When would that day come? I just wanted this situation to be over so I could live a normal life again? No one wished for something like this. Why was I the unlucky one?

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I felt tears rolled down my cheeks. I was telling myself that I could get through this but every time those positive words get in, something negative would get through. It's hard to be strong in a situation you had no idea what would happen next. How I wished I had some kind of powers to know if I was going to survive another day or not.

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I grabbed a pen and paper and listed down things I wanted to do after this was all over. Most of it were getting out of the country and doing extreme adventures. At the end of it was a question mark.

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"Jessica?" Eric called on the other side of the door. "Officer Marian would like to talk to you."

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"Sure. Just wait a sec," I said. I folded the paper and tucked in under my pillow. I headed out after a minute.

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Eric wasn't in the living room anymore. I got the phone and said my hello. Officer Marian started telling me things I couldn't keep up with.

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"Do you have the idea where he could be right now?" I asked. My throat started to close in on me. I found it hard to breathe. "Do you even know where to find him?"

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She heaved out a long sigh. "We're figuring that one out," she answered, almost hesitant.

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"Okay." That's all I could say.

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After she hung up, I sat on the couch and just stared at the far distant. Mr. Cameron liked staying at abandoned places or mostly places that no one lived a long time. With the small amount of time that I got to hang out with him, I noticed that there were little things about him that I knew. If I could get out of this place for one last time, I think I would be able to figure out where to find him.

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"You can't go out. It's not safe," I told myself. Those were the words I always chanted in my head since Eric and I got back here. But I was itching to get out. Maybe what I was speculating was right. I knew where to find him. I knew where he could be hiding at this very moment.

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The cops guarding us were too many for me to escape. I wore a black tights and black tank top. It was cold outside for me not to be wearing any coat but to keep myself invisible, I had to be wearing all black. I tied my hair in a ponytail and with quiet, baby steps, I walked my way outside. It was dangerous at this time of night because Mr. Cameron might just be around the area but if I was right, then he wouldn't be here.

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I moved out like a ninja, careful and quiet. I stopped when one of the cops looked towards the direction I was into. I took a peek and he was walking forward. Oh no. I had to move.

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"Who's there?" he called out.

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Oh. This was bad. This was bad.

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"Come out of there."

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I saw a rock and threw it as far as I could. He turned around and ran for it and I took that chance to ran away. I was in so much trouble.

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It was a long walk from the safe house to my old house. By the time I arrived there, it was already two am. I was tired and thirsty. Staring at the house, I didn't notice any peculiar activity inside.

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At the front porch, my hand started to shake. It might've looked like nothing was wrong but my instinct as telling me otherwise. I always knew this feeling whenever I was close to Mr. Cameron. It was fear and anger.

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I opened the front door and saw a dim light by the kitchen. That could be him. I walked slowly towards it. Peeking through the walkway, I spotted him.

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My eyes widened. He was wounded. His arm was bleeding terribly. A bad encounter had occurred at the beach house, I could tell by the looks of it.

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"I know you're there," Mr. Cameron said, grunting in pain. "I always knew you'll be the one to come to me."

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My heart was hammering in my chest. If I showed up, there could be a chance that he was holding a gun to shoot me.

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"Come on, Jessica. Show yourself."

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I come off. "You're bleeding," was I said instead.

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He laughed with no humor. "Yeah. But I can't go to any hospital."

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"Why don't you just surrender?"

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"And what?"

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I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "It's the only thing you can do if you still want to live."

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