Torn Tears

Hero

Mayor Garrison somehow figured out our plan to expose the government. I would bet that Elliot told the wrong person. He won't look me in the eye.

Garrison kept us shut up in my office until the police arrived to whisk us away. They don't search us for weapons. I suppose they expect office workers to be unarmed civilians. What they don't realize is Elliot has his phone.

I pray that he doesn't try to get in contact with Lucas. I hazard a glance at him on the ride to the station. He immediately shoves his phone into his pocket, awkwardly wiggling around because of his handcuffs. I try for eye contact.

He won't look at me.

I refuse to cry. I know Elliot has been in contact with Lucas. The thought causes my heart to rip, not in two, but enough to never be okay again. My emotional pain feels no less physical than if someone tore a dagger through my chest.

I think of my parents as Elliot is pulled from the car by his tie. I'm not sure how he isn't choked. The officer confiscates Elliot's phone, causing Elliot to let loose a shocked curse. Another officer pulls me from the car with marginally more gentleness than Elliot's officer.

I wonder if my parents know of the trouble I'm in. Lucas never mentioned telling my father of our problems during their fight. It's not something I expect he would bring up while throwing punches. So likely my parents have no clue that I'm being taken inside the jail. To be executed.

I wonder if they care. Even just the most minuscule amount. They brought me into this world, raised me into the person I am. If these moments are the last ones I have, I'd like to comfort myself with the idea of my parents mourning me.

But I'm a terrible liar.

I shriek when they take Elliot in a different direction than me. He isn't Lucas, but he's all I have for the moment.

"Don't worry, Princess, we're just separating you for the strip search. Standard rules. Doesn't matter how many times you've had each other, males and females are separated for this process."

I'm handed off to a female officer. I'm thankful for this small blessing. Until even she makes degrading comments.

"Shocking that you could manage two attractive young men," She tells me as I'm forced to remove my clothing, "Not sure what they'd want with you."

Despite my best efforts to be unaffected, my cheeks and ears blaze with heat. No one has ever seen me completely undressed besides my parents when I was a child. That a fellow woman would insinuate such negativity in such personal things about me,  stirs a cold, sick feeling in my gut.

After I dress again, I'm taken to a holding cell just a narrow hallway across from Elliot. Through the bars of the door, I can see he has fared much worse than me. It appears that his officer beat him mercilessly.

He's sitting cross-legged on the cement floor of his cell, hunched forward with his head down. When he looks up to see me, I notice angry, red marks marring his face.

His mouth is swollen and there's blood at the corners of his lips, trailing down to his chin. He meets my gaze with a pained, almost self-deprecating grin. His eyes contain too many sentiments to be readable. "Is it true, Jess, that women love mysterious men with battle scars?"

The cut in my heart tears deeper, longer, wider.  "The right woman won't care." I say softly. My mind involuntarily flits back to our hurried kiss. In a different setting or lifetime, it would not have been a bad one. But instead, it was surrounded by danger, dishonesty, and desperation. And at the heart of it, the kiss was shared between the wrong people. Perhaps, in a different setting or lifetime, we would have been the right people. But in my life, Lucas is the only one. And in Elliot's life, he deserves a woman who will love him wholeheartedly. 

"Jess." He croaks. I suspect it isn't the first time he's spoken, from the tone of his voice and the disappointed tilt of his head.

"Elliot?"

"This is my fault." There is unmistakable loathing in his voice.

"Now isn't the time to pass around blame."

He shakes his head, closing his eyes in a grimace or to hide. "You don't get it, Jess. We're going to die and I'm the one who mucked up the plan. I should have sent you and Lucas out of town to safety. Hell, you should have left the state. Let me handle it alone. It seems I'm not the kind of man who's able to care for anyone more than himself."

"Listen to me, Elliot Greenmark," I feel like I'm made of flames, "If not for you, Lucas and I would have been killed twenty times by now. You have been nothing short of heroic."

Elliot's lively green eyes look dead from the short distance I am away from him. "I am not your hero. Heroes are supposed to keep people alive."

In the silence before I speak, I hear hurried footsteps, someone sprinting towards us. Elliot casts a shameful, resigned look in my direction.

  "My heart is still beating." I hiss..  

"And I intend for it to stay that way, Angel."

*****

When I appear in front of her cell, Jess gasps. "How did you get here?"

"Karate master skills of a ninja." I mutter. Actually, some idiot left the back door unlocked and unguarded, providing me with a clear way. I pat my pocket with the bullets. "Go to the farthest corner of your cell."

"What?"

I pull the handgun from my waistband and load the three bullets. Jess's eyes widen, but she scuttles to the corner.

I turn to see Elliot in the cell directly across from Jess's. "Get ready to run like hell after I get you guys out."

I fire at the lock on Jess's cell then pivot and shoot Elliot's too. I reach behind me and pull open Jess's door. She runs out. Elliot looks to me for guidance after stepping into the hall. It's hard to look at his battered face without thinking of my own mending souvenirs from this place.

"Follow me." I take Jess's hand and start sprinting the way I came. Hopefully, no one will expect that of me.

The sounds of commotion erupt from all around. The price of two consecutive gunshots, but it had to be done. Jess and Elliot's cells aren't far from the back door. For a moment, I'm foolish enough to think we might make it.

Standing in the doorway blocking our freedom is none other than our dearly beloved mayor.