Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jacob
I sit on the edge of my seat, the tension palpable as I listen intently to the sounds coming through the phone. Anya's rapid breathing sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't shake the feeling of dread that grips me like a vice.
My mind races with worry, thoughts swirling as I try to piece together what could be happening on the other end of the line. Is Anya in danger? Who could be knocking at her door with such urgency? The possibilities send a chill down my spine.
Could it be Marcus, the guy who set her into a full panic attack not long ago? Or worse, could it be Paul, the man she's mentioned before, the one who's caused her so much pain in the past? The mere thought of either of them near her fills me with a sense of unease.
As I strain to hear any indication of what's happening, a sense of helplessness washes over me. All I can do is stay on the line, offering whatever support I can from miles away. I wish I could be there with her, to offer some sense of comfort and protection.
But for now, all I can do is listen, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait anxiously for Anya to come back on the line and tell me she's okay.
The minutes feel like hours as I continue to hold the phone to my ear, every second ticking by agonizingly slow. I can't help but imagine the worst-case scenarios playing out on the other end of the line, each one more terrifying than the last.
Anya's breathing remains rapid, punctuated by the occasional sound of movement or muffled voices in the background. My heart clenches with every noise, my mind conjuring up vivid images of danger lurking just beyond her front door.
I fight the urge to interrupt, to demand answers and reassurance from Anya. But I know she needs me to stay calm, to be a steady presence in the midst of her fear and uncertainty.
With every passing moment, my worry grows, a knot of tension coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of my stomach. I silently pray for Anya's safety, willing her to find the courage to face whatever awaits her on the other side of that door.
And as I wait, my grip on the phone tightens, my own breaths coming in shallow gasps as I cling to the hope that Anya will soon return to the line, her voice a beacon of reassurance in the darkness.
A deafening scream pierces through the phone, followed by the unmistakable sound of crashing and shattering glass. My heart lurches in my chest, a surge of panic coursing through me. "Anya! Are you okay?" I blurt out, my voice frantic with worry. But there's no response, only eerie silence on the other end of the line.
"Anya! Answer me! What's going on?!" I shout desperately into the phone, my mind racing with fear and uncertainty. Still, there's no reply, only the deafening silence that hangs heavy in the air.
With trembling hands, I pull the phone away from my ear to glance at the screen, my heart sinking as I see that the call has abruptly ended. Panic grips me as I frantically try to call her back, each ring met with agonizing silence on the other end. My stomach churns with dread as I realize that Anya isn't answering, and I'm left with a gnawing sense of helplessness, fearing the worst.
My mom enters the room, her eyes wide with concern. "Jacob! Why are you shouting so late at night?" she asks, her voice filled with alarm.
"It's Anya," I reply, my voice trembling with fear. "I was on the phone with her, and she heard a knock at the door. She sounded so scared! Then I heard a scream, and the line went dead!" I stand up and pace around the room, the anxiety tightening its grip around my chest. "She has an abusive ex! What if he found her? What if she's hurt?"
My mom steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Darling, first things first, I need you to breathe and try to calm down before you hyperventilate," she says gently, guiding me to the couch and urging me to sit down. "Second, have you tried calling her grandparents or her friend Lana?" she suggests calmly.
I shake my head, a sense of helplessness washing over me. "I don't have their numbers," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel utterly powerless in the face of Anya's potential danger.
My mom's face reflects my growing anxiety as she considers our options. "Okay, Jacob, let's not panic," she says soothingly, guiding me back to the couch. "We need to approach this logically."
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as I listen to her words. "But what do we do? Anya might be in trouble, and I don't know how to help her from here," I admit, feeling utterly helpless.
My mom places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Jacob," she reassures me. "Do you know anyone else besides Lana or her grandparents, who might be able to check on her."
I shake my head no, feeling the frustration build inside me.
My mom's expression shifts as she considers our limited options. "We could try calling the local authorities near Anya's address," she suggests. "They might be able to do a wellness check or provide us with more information."
The idea settles uneasily in my mind, but I know it's our best shot at ensuring Anya's safety from a distance. With a sense of determination, I nod in agreement. "Let's do it," I say, reaching for my phone to make the call. As the line rings, my heart pounds with anticipation, hoping that we'll soon have some answers about Anya's well-being.
"Hello, this is the Lakefront County Police Department, how can I assist you?" a woman's voice answers on the other end of the line.
"Good evening, my name is Jacob Callahan. I was just on a phone call with my girlfriend when she heard a loud knock at her door. She sounded scared, and when she went to check who it was, there was a scream, and then the line went dead," I explain urgently.
"Have you tried calling her back?" the woman asks, her tone slightly impatient.
"Yes, but there was no answer!" I reply, feeling the frustration mounting.
"Alright, sir. Maybe she will call you back," she suggests nonchalantly, and I feel my frustration boiling over.
"I think she's in danger! Can't you send someone to check on her?" I plead desperately.
"Sir, it's the middle of the night, and it's a Friday. All of our officers are busy with emergencies happening all over the county. We won't be able to send someone to your girlfriend's house for a while. Your best bet is to either wait it out or you can drive there yourself," she responds sternly, her tone growing annoyed.
"I DON'T LIVE THERE! I LIVE FOUR HOURS AWAY!" I shout, my panic rising. My mom intervenes, grabbing the phone from me, gesturing for me to write down Anya’s address, and then telling me to stay put.
After what feels like an eternity, my mom returns with my phone in hand. "They will be sending someone soon," she informs me, her voice filled with reassurance. As she heads back upstairs, she turns back to me, offering words of comfort. "Jacob, it will be alright. Why don't you try to sleep? I know it may be difficult in the state you are in right now, but we did what we could for now," she says gently before disappearing upstairs. Left alone with my thoughts, I try to find solace in her words, but the worry gnaws at me relentlessly.