3:30pm

49: hysteria

<Wanna stand by your side now>

°•°•°•°

Stephen

I was seated on the bandanna which I'd spread out on the porch steps before I settled down to prevent dust from getting to my jeans. My phone between my hands, elbows resting on my knees, I looked on straight ahead.

For the past ten minutes since I arrived at my current location, all I'd done was stare. Stare at the peeling brown paint of the fence not too far from me, my mind almost blank, zoning in and out of thoughts about Cleo.

What she was doing at the time. What she was wearing. What she did with her hair—let it free or hold it up.

Again, like earlier, the feeling of longing settled on my shoulders, like a heavyweight placed on each one. Even though it'd been only two days it felt like we hadn't talked in decades, and God I missed her voice. Her smile. Damn, I missed everything. Every little detail about her, from the almost invisible dimple that appeared on her right cheek whenever she smiled to the tiny birthmark on her belly, down below her navel.

And I was drained. Hell, I knew I was. It was exhausting trying to act like I didn't care, because I did. As much as I hated to admit it, I did care. A whole goddamn lot. Cleo was my concern, her well-being, her happiness would always be my concern.

Although I obviously didn't like her decision, not in the least bit, I had no other choice. It was either that or I'd remain the rest of my life wondering what could have become of us, of our relationship, if only I'd decided to go with her decision. Maybe we'd have grown old together. There was at least a forty percent chance that we would've.

Putting a brake on my thoughts, I took in a deep breath quickly, let it out a little less fast and then stood up. I felt caged here that I was. I needed to leave, go see Cleo like I'd just made up my mind to, but I couldn't because the police had already arrived at the Base.

That was one reason though. The other two were because I didn't want to implicate myself, neither did I want to be engaged in a crossfire between the cops and the guys down at the Base. I was pretty sure things were going to be messy judging from the fact that I'd already heard a gunshot ring out about a couple of minutes ago, and I didn't want to be in the middle of any of it. The way Malone had.

Staking my odds, I decided leaving the back of this house would be at most ninety percent detrimental to me.

With another sigh, my shoulders slumped and I retook my spot on the patio step. I guess I was just gonna have to wait it out then.

I turned on my phone, the only source of entertainment I had sitting at the back of a run-down building with not even a dead leaf for the slightest remnant of life.

If I couldn't go to see Cleo right now, I might as well just call her instead. I skipped my Instagram and went to my contacts, looked up her name and hit the call button quickly. Any hesitation, even if it'd been for one second, would've resulted in me changing my mind.

Why would she answer the call though? A thought popped into my mind as I stared at the screen of my phone with newfound anticipation.

I looked away from the phone about two seconds after the thought came in.

"Why would Cleo answer the call anyway?" I repeated the words of the voice in my head, my gaze fixed on a shard of broken bottle a couple feet from my boots.

It was still going, the call, but I was pretty damn sure it was nearing its ring limit. She wasn't going to answer. And when I eventually go to see her so we could talk things out, she probably won't want to see or speak to me either. It'll probably be a repeat of the last time.