Double M is My Man

~ 25 II ~

- Part Two -

"It's been a while, my dear. How have you been?" A few women gush at the sight that, from their point of view, could only be described as adorable. To them, Mr. Caraveo appears to be the perfect boyfriend, being strong enough to carry his exhausted girlfriend; his girlfriend that is so exhausted, she can barely stay awake. Yes, I can understand how they would reach that conclusion therefore complaining to their boyfriend, wanting them to be more like Mr. Caraveo. 

What those women don't know is that they are very privileged to be surrounded in the comforting safety of their boyfriend's arms. They don't know that the man I wish would someday have that title is currently somewhere far away, on an involuntary carriage ride thanks to the man holding onto me. These women would never guess that Mr. Caraveo is far from my boyfriend and in fact, the man that forced me to miss Christmas and Reece's eighteenth birthday. They would never assume that I'm not exhausted but, instead paralyzed by fear; my eyelids falling because I'm seconds away from collapsing onto the very being responsible for my panic.   

No, to them, I just look tired. 

And how I desperately wish they weren't clueless bystanders. That they'd deciphered my subtle movements for what they truly are and reach out to help by calling the police. 

But those women are too consumed by the loving atmosphere of the holiday to see the truth. 

"Hello? Dear?" Mr. Caraveo asks, acting out the role of a concerned boyfriend exquisitely, making me sick to my stomach.

"Don't call me that," I whisper, struggling to use my voice. My arms, that are around his neck have stopped shaking only because they have froze, unable to move. My legs have been asleep for almost the entire duration of the ride, I long lost feeling of them. Overall, the only thing I'm aware of is my beating heart that is ferociously pumping blood into my system, battling against the virus of fear to maintain my circulation.

Mr. Caraveo is unfazed by my reaction. He chuckles, obviously amused by our situation; the only one amused for that matter. "Would you rather I call you 'love'?" 

Another wave of ice chilling cold washed through me, stunning my heart for a brief second before she returned back to the increased pace. I can feel my pulse in my ears but I can't seem to register what just happened. I refuse to accept what I just heard. 

My silence pleases Mr. Caraveo. "I wouldn't count on him saving you," my shooter tells me softly to ensure that no one can overhear what he has to say. "You know he can't. Otherwise, his secret will be out."

Hate consumes me; hate because I know he's right. Reece can't outright save me, he can't expose his true identity to the city. No one, besides a selected few, knows that Reece is Double M and it must stay that way. So how else can Reece rescue me from my iron lock prison?

He can't.

There's no other way. 

The last ounce of my energy vanishes, having been used up, along with my will to stay awake. That's it; I'm giving up. My eye lids flutter for the last time before they slowly begin to shut down, taking away with it my last glance at Central Park. My last view will be of a bunch of seniors and juniors from my school, crowding around Mr. Caraveo, intercepting his path. 

Wait. 

Why are they here? Where did they all come from? 

I fight to stay awake, ignoring all the black spots in my vision. I hear Mr. Caraveo talking with the girls but I can't make out his words. Though I notice how all the girls from my high school ignore whatever it is he's saying. To my surprise, they surround him, preventing him from moving any further. My body is seconds away from claiming defeat but a short burst of hope swells inside me, keeping the last bit of me awake for as long as possible.