Prisoners of Love

My hands tremble as I press the doorknob and the door to my mother's bedroom opens. I feel a shiver in my stomach as I enter the room and see my mother on the bed. He has a pen and a sheet in his hand, when he sees me, he puts them aside and smiles at me:

-Hello darling!

I approach the bed but stop a few steps away and look at her. He stretches out his hand to me but can't touch me from where I am:

-Come closer, darling!

But I don't take a step forward, I just look at her:

-What's going on, mother?

His hand falls down and he looks me in the eye. His relaxed smile disappears and he is replaced by something that seems to be exhaustion and sadness:

-I think you know something is wrong with me, Tyler. I think you already understand that.

I don't say anything, but I read everything in her eyes.

I don't mean that. I don't want to hear it ... - I

'm sick.

I shake my head and take a step back:

-No ...

-I'm sorry, honey!

-Not! If you're sick, we'll take you to the doctors ... we'll ... we'll treat you well!

My mother smiles sadly:

-I can't be saved. My disease has no treatment.

And with those words, my 12-year-old world collapses.

I feel my tears sting my eyes but I close my eyelids and I don't let them flow. I don't want my mother to see me crying:

-I know it's not easy, but I have to ask you something. You must promise me that you will take care of your brothers!

I shake my head and feel a lump in my throat. Mother continues in a calm voice:

-I know it's not fair, Tyler, but you're the biggest and I need to know you're going to be fine. You have to promise me, Tyler!

I look her in the bright blue eyes and nod:

"I promise!"

My mother opens her arms and even though all I want is to throw myself into her arms, I just take two steps forward and let her caress my cheek.

No matter how much I want to take her in my arms, I can't do that. That would make a child.

From the moment I promised my mother that I would take care of my siblings, I gave up my childhood.

Nothing has been the same since then. Everything I knew about life until then has changed. I walk carefully on the floor trying not to make any noise.

It is dark in the house, the only light being the one that enters the windows.

I go through what I think is a living room and see a sideboard but it's empty, I walk until I reach a hallway, where there are some keys and a wallet on a table. I quickly open my wallet and take all the money I see from it. It's about $ 100. I'm rummaging through my wallet, but apart from a credit card, one for gas, it's empty.

I'm going to the kitchen, there's a little more light here because of the big window above the sink.

I only have one more place to look before I leave. The refrigerator. I'm tired.

I open the refrigerator door and am disappointed to see that it is almost empty. Two eggs, some cheese, milk and orange juice.

I think I'm just robbing a poorer person than me:

-What the hell?

I jump like a burn and hit the door of the refrigerator that closes and for a moment I see nothing, my eyes getting used to the darkness.

I quickly reach for my pants where I have the gun and pull it out, pointing it at the area where I think the voice was heard.

After a few moments my eyes get used to the round and I see it in the light that enters the window.

A tall man, much taller than me, dressed only in a pair of boxers.

I raise my pistol at him. I expect him to widen his eyes or startle, but he stands still:

-Don't move! call

I see his fingers point to the buffet phone:

"Hands up!" I said don't move!

-Good!

He slowly raised his hands, looking me in the eye. His gaze is so direct and mesmerizing that when he takes two steps I can't even react.

He reaches out and twists my wrist so that he points his pistol elsewhere. He grabs my neck and pulls me back. He sticks his back to my chest and immobilizes me. Turn the pistol so that the barrel is pointed at my temple.

I tremble slightly, although I don't think he noticed:

-Don't move! he says this time

I'm not moving. Not because I'm afraid he's going to shoot me, but because the pistol barrel attached to my temple is far too vivid a memory for me.

I can feel his breath on my neck and I realize that I have to free myself and run:

-Are you going to call the police?

-Depends on how you behave.

I frown, "

What does that mean?"

-What do you think it means?

-Well, I don't know genius, I don't read minds!

Given our situation, I can hear him snorting, and even if I

turn my back on him, I think a corner of his mouth rises amused:

-Depends.

-Depends why? I ask him, still trying to distract him as I slowly lower my hand to the front of my jeans where I have a knife.

-Don't you think that a girl who enters your house during the night to steal deserves to be taken by the police?

To my surprise, I feel him shrug:

-It depends on why he's in my house trying to steal.

My fingers touch the hem of my jeans. I have a little more to go. I keep talking,

"But I have a gun pointed at you." I could have killed you!

-I realized from the first moment that it was not loaded. And I think we both know that even if it were, you wouldn't have used it, love!

My fingers touch the knife:

-How do you know? I do not know.

-I saw her in your eyes!

I snort:

-People can be unpredictable.

-Yes, sometimes they are. By the way, you should stop trying to get to the knife you have in the front pocket of your pants.

My hand freezes on the handle of the knife:

-I don't know what you're talking about!

-Ah, come on, love! I thought we were honest with each other!

-Don't tell me that!

-I don't think you have any right to comment considering that you are the one who entered my house.

My fingers finally reach the knife and I'm ready to point it at him, but I don't even catch him by the wrist and he turns to me so fast that I drop the knife.

Now I have my chest close to his and my hands in the air on either side of my head with his perfect hands.

In the light of the room I can see blue in his eyes. He looks at me so intensely that I have to do my best not to lower my eyes:

-What did you want to do with that knife? Would you have cut me?

I don't answer:

-What about the gun?

I still don't say anything and he insists:

-Tell me, would you have shot me?

I frown, and although I should say nothing and find a way to escape, I answer, "No.

"

His features relax and he almost smiles, a knowing smile:

-Okay.

He lets go of my hands. I frown at him.

"What are you doing?"

-I'm letting you go. You can leave.

I should run away from there eating the earth, but I still can't get rid of the feeling that something's wrong:

-Okay, but you can't just let me go like this after I've tried to steal your stuff.

-You can leave after you give me back what you took, of course.

I take the money I took out of my wallet out of my pocket and put it in my hand and then take a few steps back and when I see that he is not trying to stop me, I leave the kitchen.

I'm in the hallway when I hear him shout,

"You don't have to go out the window you went in!" The door is open!

I go out the door and take her on the street, always looking back to see if she's following me, but she's not.

After about two blocks, I stop, realizing that this was the strangest thing that has happened to me in a long time.

I can't get over the feeling that something is wrong, that it can't have been that simple.

But I forget about it when I realize my gun and knife are with him.

Damn it! The alarm rings at 6 o'clock and I get up easily from bed, I've always been a morning person. I take a short shower and then I put on a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt like that, I fix my hair a little, I take my keys, I put the badge that Detective Maxfild writes around my neck . I eat some cereal and then go to the ward.

I am greeted by all my colleagues as I walk through the ward to my office, which is right next to the police station. He has the door closed so he's either not there or he doesn't want to be bothered.

I sit down at my desk and pull out the last files I have to examine. I open one when Courtny, the chief's assistant, pokes her head in the office door

. "Good morning, Mr. Maxfild!"

-Hello, Courtny! And I told you before, don't call me sir, it makes me look old.

She smiles and I know she'll address me the same next time, she just does.

Courtny is a police assistant, but now she's in a kind of apprenticeship, so when someone doesn't take her with them to the field, she stays at the station and brings coffee or files from the basement. something?

-A Mochacino would be perfect.

She nods and walks out of my office, letting me look over the file.

My silence is broken when I see a policeman with a girl in handcuffs passing in front of the door.

I don't see much, just as I walk past my open door, I can only see the girl's hair, a gray with pink strands.

Out of curiosity, I get up from my desk and look down the hall

. says the girl in a determined tone

From this position I can't see her face but I'm sure she's angry. The policeman opens the door of the interrogation room and tells the girl to enter, when he does not move, he pushes her:

-Hey!

I'm already a few steps away from them:

-You can't treat her like that!

The policeman turns his head with a frown, nervous as if someone can afford to tell him what he can do, but the moment he looks at me, his expression changes immediately:

-With all due respect, sir, but he hasn't wanted to cooperate since I took her.

-And yet you can't rush it, it's against the rules.

The policeman doesn't seem too happy that I'm scolding him in the lobby of the ward where anyone can hear and see us, but he can't help but nod:

-Yes, sir, of course.

-And is it okay to handcuff a person who simply sees his work as okay? the girl's voice is heard

- It's not without reason, says the policeman.

-What did he do? I ask

-I wasn't doing anything, I was just ...

-She was seen spending time in an area where we think drug trafficking and prostitution are practiced.

-Ha, is that your argument? Since when is it illegal to walk? I can walk where my head is cut off, it's a free country.

-You stopped several cars and talked to the drivers and the outfit ...

-I knew the drivers. And as for my clothes, I can dress the way I want.

It really doesn't help that the way she's dressed, a short, black skirt that reveals her long, tanned legs and a short green top:

-You have no evidence and no argument to hold me back so ...

Only then does he turn his head towards me and I can see his face. When our eyes meet, it's like there's a click in my mind.

I realize I know her. I know this girl.

Those big green eyes, even if I've only seen them once in my life, I could never forget.

It's her. She's the girl who tried to rob me two nights ago.