A/N: Sad tune for a sad chapter 😢😢 Sorry not sorry.
"Evangeline, there was... there was an accident."
"Wh-what kind of accident?" I ask, my lip quivering.
"Your mom...." Ambrose shakes his head before bringing his fingertips to his temple.
"Where is my mom?" I whisper.
Tears stream down his face. I've never seen a grown man cry before.
"Your mom is in the hospital," he finally says. "She... she took some pills." Sniffling, he adds, "I'm so sorry, Evangeline, but it doesn't look good."
"Is she gonna die?"
"I don't know. I hope not."
I cover my face before the tears fall. I don't want him to see me cry.
"Wh-what's gonna happen to me?" I sob. "Who's gonna take care of me?"
"Someone amazing," he says. "I'll see to it personally."
"I don't have a dad. I don't have anyone!" I continue to weep. "It was just Mommy and me. I'm all alone now."
"I promise, Evangeline, no matter what happens to your mom, I'll make sure that you're never alone."
When I open my eyes, I'm greeted by a pitch black room and a throbbing headache.
I blink a few times, allowing my pupils to adjust to the lack of light. I realize I'm lying on a musty-smelling bed. The space around me is tiny, with very little furniture and only one door and one window.
The motel! I'm in a motel room.
It all comes back to me: running out of Rem's car, hiding from the police, seeing Clem's face in the window, racing against the clock to get to her.
"Clem?" I call out. "Clem, are you here?"
"I'm in here!"
I leap off the bed and follow the voice. In the dark, I locate the bathroom door, which has a chair wedged beneath the knob. I push it aside and turn the handle, allowing a frightened Clementine to fall into my arms.
"Oh, my god," I whisper. "It's really you."
I hold her tightly as she sobs against my chest. I stroke her frizzy curls, which are no longer bright orange. Instead, they're a dull shade of brown.
"He dyed my hair," she cries. "He didn't want me to look like me anymore."
Benson. That prick is still here.
"Where's he hiding?" I ask my sister. "The police are outside. He's gotta be in here." I turn on the light and begin to search the room. "Benson! Where the fuck are you?"
"I don't know," Clem answers. "After he hit you, he locked me in the bathroom."
"He hit me?"
"With a bible."
"Is nothing sacred anymore?" I shake my head, causing the stabbing sensation to return. "How long was I out for?"
"Only a few minutes, I think," she replies.
"Let's just get out of here, okay? The cops will find—"
"Vange, behind you!"
I whirl around to see none other than Benson crawling out from beneath the twin-sized bed. His normally clean face is unshaven, his pupils the size of pinpoints as he stares us down.
"Clem, get behind me," I hiss, stepping in front of the ten-year-old.
"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" he sneers, folding his arms over his chest.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I thought I'd seen him angry before, but I was wrong. That night at Poppy's was nothing compared to this.
The vein in his forehead bulges out as he approaches us. There are half a dozen cops outside waiting to break down the door, but that doesn't silence the fearful voice inside my head. I've seen enough Law & Order to know how this works. They can't start mindlessly shooting; one of their bullets might hit us, the hostages, instead of Benson, the perpetrator.
"Just let us go," I beg him. "The police are outside. You've already been caught. Please."
"Did you even get into Columbia, or was that just a ploy to get me on the phone?" he snaps.
"Did you ever plan on moving to New York, or was that just a way to lead me off your trail?" I retort, refusing to let him manipulate me again.
Smirking, he says, "I was going to go to New York. My goal was to settle down there with Clem. Eventually, when you moved for school, I was gonna invite you to join us." His dark eyes flicker with sadness. "I wanted us to be a family. A real family."
"Are you delusional?" I spit back. "You can't start a family by kidnapping one child and hoping the other will just look past the felony and move in with you! Besides, we have a family. You're just not part of it."
"I used to be," he murmurs, "until Bowie and Gemma spoiled everything."
"I'm not joining your pity party again. Let us go!"
"Not a chance. As soon as that door opens, I'm getting cuffed and sent to jail."
"Just let us leave, you psycho!" I cry. The only thing standing between me and that door is Benson, and I don't want to be trapped with him for another second.
"You know, Evangeline," he goes on, "you're just like my brother and sister. You stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You put yourself in the middle of situations that you can't even begin to understand."
"Maybe, but you're wrong about the last part," I tell him, shaking my head. "This is a situation I do understand. I understand that you're a sad, pathetic excuse of a man who thinks the world owes him something. I understand that you're a criminal who deserves to die behind bars. I understand that you will never change, and I was stupid to think you—"
Benson reaches into his sweatshirt pocket and pulls out a shiny black handgun, silencing me instantly.
He has a gun. My father is pointing a gun at me.
Inside of my own sweatshirt pocket, my cell phone rings.
"Answer it," Benson commands.
I don't even look at the caller ID. "H-hello?" I say.
"I love you, pretty girl, but once we get you out of there, I might just kill you myself. Are you alright?"
Rem's voice brings tears to my eyes. I think about our car ride a mere hour ago, about the song he sang to me, about his fingers wrapped around mine.
"Vange? Talk to me. What's going on?"
"Tell him I have a gun," Benson orders, "and that the police better back off before I start shooting."
"He has a g-gun," I repeat, "and the police better back off before he starts sh-shooting."
Benson smiles. "Now hang up the phone."
"I'm sorry, baby. I love you."
"Vange, no! Stay on the—"
The line ends.
"Good girl," Benson praises me.
"Fuck you."
Behind me, Clementine sobs. Without turning my back to the gun-wielding man in front of me, I force her into the bathroom and order her to lock the door.
"Why did you do that?" he asks, lowering his weapon.
"Because I love her," I say simply, "and if you're going to shoot one of us, it's going to be me."
He lets out a sigh. "You know I won't shoot either of you."
"Why? You're already going to prison for the rest of your life."
He sits down on the bed. "Yeah, not if I can help it."
"Why did you have to take her?" I whisper, gesturing to the locked door. "I trusted you, you asshole, and then you went and ruined everything."
He moves his shoulders up and down in a nonchalant shrug. "Alyx's rejection hurt."
I roll my eyes. "It doesn't justify kidnapping. It doesn't justify holding a gun to my head."
"Sorry about that. It was just a precautionary measure." With a sigh, he puts the gun down.
He quickly realizes his mistake, but not fast enough. The gun is already in my hand and pointed at his face.
Holding a gun was never something I thought I'd do. Second Amendment aside, I'm against this particular weapon and the kind of violence it generates.
However, grazing my finger over the trigger while watching the man who's made my life a living hell squirm in fear is so satisfying.
Still pointing the muzzle in his direction, I back up slowly and open the door. Immediately, three cops burst into the room, all armed with bulletproof shields and vests. I drop the gun and put my hands in the air
I yell for Clem to come out of the bathroom. She runs straight to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. One of the officers leads us outside as the other two restrain and handcuff Benson.
Once he's confined to the back of a cop car, I give my statement to the police. Clem is brought to an ambulance for a check-up. Other than the unfortunate new hair color, everything is fine.
"We'll get your fiery curls back," I assure her as she climbs onto my lap. She hasn't left my side since I found her.
"Vange!"
I turn and see Rem sprinting toward me, pushing through a group of police officers to get to me faster. He pulls me into an anaconda squeeze, accidentally squishing my sister in the process.
"Oww," she groans.
"Sorry." He jumps back. "Uh, I'm Rem, by the way."
"I know. Vange is obsessed with you," she teases, elbowing me in the ribs.
"Am not," I mutter.
"That's unfortunate." Grinning, he cups my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine.
"Eww, stop!" Clem shrieks. "At least wait until I'm gone before you start trying to make a baby."
A naughty smirk tugs at his lips. "I mean, you did say I could do whatever I wanted to you once we found your sister," he murmurs in my ear.
"Hold that thought," I say, nodding toward the gray-haired, suit-clad man approaching us.
"Good evening." He extends his hand, and we take turns shaking it. "I'm Special Agent Marcus Foxx."
"Um, hi," I reply. "Listen, we already gave our statements to the police—"
"Oh, I'm not here because of that," he cuts in.
"Okay." I let out a nervous chuckle. "So... what's going on?"
"I heard about your heroics tonight," he says to me. "I wanted to commend you for your bravery. If you hadn't gotten the perp on the phone and then ran into his motel room the way you did, we might not have caught him. You ever considered a career in law enforcement?"
"You're the second person to ask me that today," I reply, "but no."
"Well, you ought to think about it. Not many people would have been able to do what you did today."
"I only did it for my sister," I tell him, wrapping my arm around her tiny shoulders. "Trust me, it was terrifying, and it isn't something I wish to do again."
"Either way, thanks to you, we're putting one of Manhattan's Most Wanted behind bars."
I blink, replaying his words in my head. "Most Wanted?
"Did you know that he had thirteen outstanding warrants in New York?"
I shake my head. That's another detail Benson conveniently left out.
"Well, I won't bother you any longer," he says. "I hope the three of you have a good night. Stay safe out there."
"Mr. Foxx, wait!" I stop him, my mind burning with unasked questions. "Wh-what were his warrants for?"
The detective presses his lips together, a disgusted look on his face. "Sexual misconduct, mostly."
I lean back, resting my head on Rem's chest as we watch Mr. Foxx walk away. The information shouldn't shock me, but fuck, it still hurts to hear.
"Thanks to you, he's going to jail for a long time," Rem assures me. "He'll never hurt anyone again."
I force a smile. I should be happy.
So why do I feel like curling up into a ball and crying my heart out?
For those of you who wanted him locked up for a long time, I hope I didn't disappoint!
Don't forget to tap that star before you go⭐️⭐️