47. Jensen
47
JENSEN
I don’t remember coming home. Hushed voices drift from my living room. People want to see me, talk to me, invade my privacy. None of them are Maisy.
Jake acts as gatekeeper during the day, controlling who enters the house and learns my secrets. He’s allowed Trevor to come inside and Lucy to drop off meals. They talk about me, and Jake says everything will be okay. He doesn’t mention Maisy.
Where’s Javi?
Trevor acts as a babysitter at night. From the recliner he dragged into my bedroom, he works on his laptop, naps, and encourages me to eat, drink, shower. I don’t.
Where the hell is Javi?
I lie on the bed, my face pressed into Maisy’s satin pillow. She slept beside me a few nights ago, and her scent lingers, a tropical blend of coconut and ocean breeze. I imagine us lying on a beach. Maybe we’re on the island she wants to buy for just us. She wears the sexy red bikini I like with her aviator sunglasses, smiling at me over her shoulder as I rub oil on her tanned skin.
Then she fades on the horizon, vanishing in the flare of light during that moment when the setting sun kisses the sea.
Hurry, Javi. I’m losing her.
Jake’s strained whisper reaches me from the foot of the bed. “You can’t keep on like this, man. I’m worried about you. You’ve been in here for three days. You need to eat or at least drink some water. Or talk to me.”
I can’t talk, Jake. I’m numb.
The darkness holds me hostage. Black bedding, black curtains, black pit of despair. Without Maisy, light ceases to exist. I cease to exist.