Status: updates are kind of slow. sorry.
Hard Water
xiii
When I passed out, I dreamt of Africa. Freetown, Sierra Leone, 1998. I was eight years old in the city of diamonds, and constantly in awe of my surroundings – the massive trees with leaves that wafted above my head like oversized umbrellas, the jangle of donkey-drawn carriages as they rattled over dirt roads. I’d imagined mud huts and pet lions and children playing in crystalline blue oasises, but instead I got crumbling white buildings, stray dogs and fountains of dirty water. I couldn’t believe this was where my parents had once lived, couldn’t comprehend what it must have felt like to grow up somewhere so different to back home.
“You’re my diamond, Momo,” my mother said, smiling down at me as we walked down the street, her voice drifting like music over the noise of the marketplace, “no jewel is more precious than you.”
“Mother…” I whispered, a smile in my voice, and felt my skin shift as my body moved under heavy sheets rather than a thin, silky gara like I’d hoped. My eyes wrenched themselves open, shattering my sun-drenched visions. “Mother?”
Callum gazed down at me, tight-lipped, cheeks sucked in like he was upset. “Nope. Just me. Sorry.” I felt a wave of guilt at his expression, but quickly reminded myself that it was his fault that we were here in this mess in the first place, and if I felt sorry for him, that would be giving him what he wanted anyway. So I lay back into the pillows again, with my eyes shut, and waited until I felt him slide off of the bed with a heavy sigh.
“Where did they go?” I asked wearily.
“Like I care,” said Callum. “I don’t know. Downstairs, I guess. That Adam said he had to talk to Luke or something.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It was fucking awkward, though. They just kind of stood and stared at each other until I told them both to piss off.”
“Such a hero,” I muttered, staring at the ceiling. “I wonder what they want with us. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t scare me a little.”
“Me too. Good thing you have me here to protect you, huh?” He leant over to wrap me in a warm embrace, perching his chin protectively on the top of my skull.
“Yeah,” I said, “thank God.”
-
He was running. He hadn’t decided where yet, but his feet were carrying him faster than he thought possible, all the way across green, muddy expanses of land that seemed to go on forever and ever. The sky burned deep grey with the imposing night and the air was heavy and damp, clogging his nose and making his eyes water.
Adam saw the Garrisons’ house sitting up on the hill in his peripheral vision, lonely and dark as always, but kept on running along the path, not daring to look back and see who might be following him. He’d left Seth behind at the inn, his only priority being Milo now, and even as he drew near to his own home he could hear the child’s wailing drifting through the thin walls. He must have been scared out of his mind with Adam gone so long, and as soon as he opened the door Milo ran to him and clung to his leg.
“Ah, shhh, lilla gubben,” Adam hushed him, kneeling down and stroking his soft, downy hair. “It’s all right. I'm here now."
“Daddy,” Milo blubbered, his nose running, eyes red and puffy. Adam wiped away the tears with his sleeve. “daddy, don’t go away please, stop going away!”
“I’m here now, aren’t I, Milo? Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. And let’s get you some food. Your tummy’s rumbling.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” The child was thrashing in his arms now, the onslaught of tears starting up all over again. Adam heard the pitter-patter of rain on the window and then a crack of thunder through Milo’s bawling, and not before long the lights flickered and then went out completely, plunging the house into darkness once again, making the child even more hysteric.
“I know, Milo,” said Adam softly, hugging him as tightly as possible, trying to quell the screaming. “I’m never going to go away again, I promise you. And I’ll never let them take you away from me, either.”
-
By the time Heller had arrived at the police station with a spluttering Mr. Garrison in tow, it was thrumming with excitement. Bodies were moving rapidly all around them in the cramped space, and in the heart of the action stood Harris with a face like thunder.
“Heller!” he bellowed, marching over. “Where the hell have you been? While you’ve been gallivanting around, I’ve got an officer out cold, and your innocent man is nowhere to be seen. He’s broken out, Heller! Can you believe this bullshit?!”
“Excuse me?” said Maxwell quietly, his face pale and drawn. “Are you really talking about Adam? My Adam?”
Harris turned stiffly to acknowledge Mr. Garrison for the first time, his black, piggish eyes still blazing with fury. “Who’s this, then? Your Adam? Do you happen to know where he might have run off to, by any chance?”
“I think Mr. Garrison needs to sit down.” said Heller.
“And I need answers, for Christ’s sake.” replied Harris, refusing to move, his huge frame blocking the door to the cell. “We’re supposed to have him on the boat back to the mainland tomorrow. We leave it any later and the weather isn’t looking too great, we could be stuck here for days, weeks, even. And nobody wants that…”
His sentence suddenly drifted off as a look of realisation crossed over his face. He glanced at Mr. Garrison again, almost sheepishly, and the hard line of his mouth softened a little. “Garrison? As in the victim, Elena Garrison?”
Maxwell nodded. “I’m her father.” He sounded calm, almost serene, a far cry from the shuddering wreck he had been only half an hour earlier, although Heller noticed that his bloodless, worn hands were still quivering slightly. She gripped his shoulder, like an anchor. The worst was yet to come.
Harris’ face was white and twitching, his eyes full of a new-found sympathy. “Well then,” he said in a low voice, “forget about the boy for now. I suppose you’d better follow me.”
“You’re my diamond, Momo,” my mother said, smiling down at me as we walked down the street, her voice drifting like music over the noise of the marketplace, “no jewel is more precious than you.”
“Mother…” I whispered, a smile in my voice, and felt my skin shift as my body moved under heavy sheets rather than a thin, silky gara like I’d hoped. My eyes wrenched themselves open, shattering my sun-drenched visions. “Mother?”
Callum gazed down at me, tight-lipped, cheeks sucked in like he was upset. “Nope. Just me. Sorry.” I felt a wave of guilt at his expression, but quickly reminded myself that it was his fault that we were here in this mess in the first place, and if I felt sorry for him, that would be giving him what he wanted anyway. So I lay back into the pillows again, with my eyes shut, and waited until I felt him slide off of the bed with a heavy sigh.
“Where did they go?” I asked wearily.
“Like I care,” said Callum. “I don’t know. Downstairs, I guess. That Adam said he had to talk to Luke or something.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It was fucking awkward, though. They just kind of stood and stared at each other until I told them both to piss off.”
“Such a hero,” I muttered, staring at the ceiling. “I wonder what they want with us. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t scare me a little.”
“Me too. Good thing you have me here to protect you, huh?” He leant over to wrap me in a warm embrace, perching his chin protectively on the top of my skull.
“Yeah,” I said, “thank God.”
-
He was running. He hadn’t decided where yet, but his feet were carrying him faster than he thought possible, all the way across green, muddy expanses of land that seemed to go on forever and ever. The sky burned deep grey with the imposing night and the air was heavy and damp, clogging his nose and making his eyes water.
Adam saw the Garrisons’ house sitting up on the hill in his peripheral vision, lonely and dark as always, but kept on running along the path, not daring to look back and see who might be following him. He’d left Seth behind at the inn, his only priority being Milo now, and even as he drew near to his own home he could hear the child’s wailing drifting through the thin walls. He must have been scared out of his mind with Adam gone so long, and as soon as he opened the door Milo ran to him and clung to his leg.
“Ah, shhh, lilla gubben,” Adam hushed him, kneeling down and stroking his soft, downy hair. “It’s all right. I'm here now."
“Daddy,” Milo blubbered, his nose running, eyes red and puffy. Adam wiped away the tears with his sleeve. “daddy, don’t go away please, stop going away!”
“I’m here now, aren’t I, Milo? Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. And let’s get you some food. Your tummy’s rumbling.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” The child was thrashing in his arms now, the onslaught of tears starting up all over again. Adam heard the pitter-patter of rain on the window and then a crack of thunder through Milo’s bawling, and not before long the lights flickered and then went out completely, plunging the house into darkness once again, making the child even more hysteric.
“I know, Milo,” said Adam softly, hugging him as tightly as possible, trying to quell the screaming. “I’m never going to go away again, I promise you. And I’ll never let them take you away from me, either.”
-
By the time Heller had arrived at the police station with a spluttering Mr. Garrison in tow, it was thrumming with excitement. Bodies were moving rapidly all around them in the cramped space, and in the heart of the action stood Harris with a face like thunder.
“Heller!” he bellowed, marching over. “Where the hell have you been? While you’ve been gallivanting around, I’ve got an officer out cold, and your innocent man is nowhere to be seen. He’s broken out, Heller! Can you believe this bullshit?!”
“Excuse me?” said Maxwell quietly, his face pale and drawn. “Are you really talking about Adam? My Adam?”
Harris turned stiffly to acknowledge Mr. Garrison for the first time, his black, piggish eyes still blazing with fury. “Who’s this, then? Your Adam? Do you happen to know where he might have run off to, by any chance?”
“I think Mr. Garrison needs to sit down.” said Heller.
“And I need answers, for Christ’s sake.” replied Harris, refusing to move, his huge frame blocking the door to the cell. “We’re supposed to have him on the boat back to the mainland tomorrow. We leave it any later and the weather isn’t looking too great, we could be stuck here for days, weeks, even. And nobody wants that…”
His sentence suddenly drifted off as a look of realisation crossed over his face. He glanced at Mr. Garrison again, almost sheepishly, and the hard line of his mouth softened a little. “Garrison? As in the victim, Elena Garrison?”
Maxwell nodded. “I’m her father.” He sounded calm, almost serene, a far cry from the shuddering wreck he had been only half an hour earlier, although Heller noticed that his bloodless, worn hands were still quivering slightly. She gripped his shoulder, like an anchor. The worst was yet to come.
Harris’ face was white and twitching, his eyes full of a new-found sympathy. “Well then,” he said in a low voice, “forget about the boy for now. I suppose you’d better follow me.”
♠ ♠ ♠
this is shitty i know