Energizer

eighteen

My car swerved onto the grass as I came to a stop, my door flying open, similar to Elana rushing into my house. The wind was blowing slightly and leaves tumbled across the street.
There was caution tape and neighbors crowded around the scene, getting escorted back by huge policemen. A few news reporters were nearby, and I heard one of them speak.
"Perkins is considered armed and dangerous."
That must be brunettes last name. I knew it wasn't Marcus's last name. The whole scene gave me chills and a bad feeling in my gut. The reporters voice filtered back into my head between thoughts, "As the hunt for Perkins continues, we will have the latest updates."
I bit the inside of my lip while she spoke, drawing a small amount of blood. I don't care about Perkins, where is Rhee. I want to know where Marcus Rhee is. It was just then I noticed the police searching the house.
He could be in there, I just had to wait. The police will find him and he will be oka-
"Excuse me?" An old, raspy voice traveled from behind me, "Why are you parked on my grass?"
I turned around to find a short, wrinkly, old woman in a nightgown and no bra pointing her wrinkly little finger to my tire partly parked on the grass.
"I'm sorry, but my boyfriend is the victim in this. I rushed over here. I'm very sorry."
The woman took a drag of the cigarette that was apparently in her other hand the whole time, "I don't care. Move it."
The woman waddled away, glaring at my tire.
Truth was, I didn't have time to move my car. I was too busy scoping out a crime scene my boyfriend is involved in. If I was that lady, no way in hell would I leave my house during a hunt for a psychotic bride who is considered armed and dangerous. I guess you could consider me crazy, because here I am.
After watching from afar for about a half hour, the police announced that we should remain indoors and away from the scene. I reluctantly got into my car, starting the engine without going anywhere.
They never mentioned if anyone was inside the house. They didn't mention anything about Marcus.
Hope was fading quickly, I hoped the drive back home would clear my mind.
The radio had the same old talk show with the same old people on again. Yes, these people literally were old. From what I heard through the fuzz and crackle was something about an antique lamp auction at a local trade shop. Old people are interesting.
I returned home. Elana was still inside my living room and the TV was still on the same channel. She turned back to look at me with great enthusiasm, "They found Marcus!"
She excitedly pointed to the TV. It was Marcus, going into an ambulance. At least that's who I hoped it was. I prayed it was him, and I'm not even religious.
"Un-mute it, idiot!" I hit Elana's hand, which was curled perfectly around my remote.
"Calm down," Elana rolled her eyes and hit the mute button, the voice of a female speaking while the ambulance drove away; "It seems we have found the victim, who is being transported to the local hospital. They are not in serious conditions. We are still on the hunt for Perkins."
I squealed in excitement as my head dropped down into my hands. "Yay, Ari! He's okay!" Elana gave me a side hugs she exclaimed, a little too happy.
"I can't wait to visit him," I stared in disbelief at the TV, "I hope his ex-fiancee gets arrested and put into jail for a very long time."
Elana chuckled quietly at my words, "I hope so too."

My attention turned from the TV and I looked at Elana, starting to speak even though she probably wasn't paying attention, "Do you think I'll be able to visit him tomorrow?"
Elana took a few seconds to respond, but she finally did with a small, short nod, "I'm going to get back home, too much for one day." Elana started to stand up, but I pushed her back down by her thigh.
"You should really stay here, because who knows where that idiot is," I explained.
Elana gulped and nodded, patting the couch with her hands," I'll stay here tonight."
Now, I felt sort of bad because my couch is uncomfortable and old, but I felt like sleeping with my best friend in the same bed would be just as uncomfortable, especially since the sheets haven't been washed since Marcus stayed. Despite my mental arguing, the words just came out, "You can stay in my bed."
Elana smiled, "I knew you would give in."
My only answer to that question was, "Not really", but I didn't say that out loud.
"I promise I won't be too much of a pesk," She laughed and nudged my shoulder with hers.
"Hey, might as well make sure all of your doors are locked." I agreed, and Elana went around the house locking the only two doors I have.
"You never know If she's coming for you next," Elana yelled from the back of the kitchen.
A small lump formed in my throat, but I chased the thought away.
If it does happen, maybe I can share a hospital room with Marcus.
"Don't say that," I snapped back, quickly looking outside the window to make sure she didn't sneak up with cat-like reflexes.
"Oh, relax! If she's smart, she'll break into Marcus's apartment and steal some valuables," Elana was back in the living room now, patting my head like I was a little child.
"That would be rather smart, but let's hope she stays away from here. Lock your car doors," I glanced up at Elana, who was still standing behind me.
"Silly, they're always locked," Elana gave me a thumbs up, heading back into the kitchen, "What's for dinner, Chef Ari?"
The question itself stressed me out, "I don't know, check the fridge," I kept my voice quiet.
I heard the fridge open, then close, then open again.
"These lil burger things look good," Elana was mumbling to herself, and I smiled as I heard her speak.
"Yeah, they are, Marcus made them."
I hoped she was referring to the black bean burgers and not some old mystery meat I forgot to throw away from last month.
The microwave started to hum, and so did the wind outside against the siding of my house. A storm was rolling in from the distance. I felt rather lonely, despite Elana being nearly 20 feet away from me.
The thought of visiting Marcus made me happier, although I doubt he will ever be himself again.

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