Finding Ford

chapter ten

Problem C: If I can't bring Ford to Cailbridge, where am I supposed to take him? I have no idea what I'm doing. I've trusted that Ford is going to be waiting for me at the address he gave me, hopefully giving me somewhere to take him, even though he said it himself that he has nowhere to go and God what am I getting myself into?

Problem D (There's a lot of problems): I don't know why Ford is avoiding Cailbridge. He said something about it not being safe, and the way he had made me promise not to take him back... scares me, to put it simply. I don't know how to feel about the way Ford is fearing going home; is he in a dangerous position? Am I putting myself in danger? I want to say I'm not; nothing in my life has ever been dangerous, after all. I've lived a simple, normal, boring but safe life. The last month has been filled with a lingering fear, though. Ford's jacket, the bloody jewellery box, the message: HOME IS WHERE FORD'S DEAD HEART LIES. It gives me chills just thinking about it, but even more so thinking about how:

Problem E: I'm putting myself right in the middle of it.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep the hands that rest on the steering wheel from shaking. At first, I was slightly scared I would get too tired from driving in the middle of the night, but Ford's phone call really seemed to wake me up. Right now, I'm following my GPS, but there's not much to follow right now, considering I've just been going straight ahead on the highway for a good hour now. I lean back in my seat, letting just one hand steer, shaking my head.

To distract myself from the overwhelming thoughts, I switch on the radio station. The sound of music doesn't do much to distract me, but it does give me something else to pay attention to, and doesn't leave me with all my attention on Ford.

Around three hours into the ride, I start to cry.

Reason A: I'm tired as hell. It's one in the morning, and my whole body is shaking, because ever since Ford sent me that text- more like ever since Ford went missing in general- I haven't been able to get a blink of sleep.

Reason B: I don't know where I am. I've never really been far away from Cailbridge- the farthest I've gotten has to be an hour south- and it's dark. I'm driving practically blind, trusting the GPS- which has finally gotten me off the highway- to not get me lost. Because if I get lost, I'm screwed. No one knows where I went (I've been ignoring the constant phone calls from my mom, which I only feel slightly bad about) which only adds to the fear. But I can't tell anyone, because it could cost Ford's life.

Reason C: I might finally see Ford again.

And oh God, after a month of tearing myself apart, not knowing whether he was dead or alive, I feel a crazy rain of relief. I was so torn up about that day he went missing, when he had come to me crying, and I just didn't know if maybe I stayed with him for a little longer, he would still be here. I thought it was my fault. After a month of thinking of those grey eyes and the dark, dark brown hair that's always pushed up, and the way he's exactly two inches taller than me and his build isn't exactly muscular but I don't even care, because he's not perfect and I'm not either and- Jesus, there were moments where I really thought I wasn't going to see him again.

And those moments, they killed me.

But now, I'm pulling up at the address Ford has left for me, wiping away the remanding tears. I forgot to call him twenty minutes earlier, like I promised, but now I just park outside the big building- which, from here, kind of looks like a store- and dial his number.

Ford picks up on the first ring, which I find a little surprising since these past days, I've been handling late, agonizing replies. "Ava?"

"I'm here," I say.