"feeling like you've lost something but having no clue when or where you last had it. Then one day you realize what you lost is yourself."

Morgan Ann Bennett

I couldn't stay asleep. It could've been that it was so cold and Chris wasn't laying beside me. Yup, that's it. I absolutely depended on cuddling to fall asleep anymore, and he knew that.

I rolled out of the bed and shivered under the ceiling fan on it's highest setting, but I didn't turn it off because that's how Chris likes to sleep even in fall/winter.

The bedroom was messy, no, just lived in, with Chris's shoes everywhere and my stuff in suitcases and bags all over.

We had no plan in place as to my living situation. Chris suggested moving, but I didn't want him to leave his family behind. There was no way I could just leave this community either.
Besides, it's a nice place to raise a child, I think. That is, if I go through with this. I had been talking to some of the ladies at the clinic and there's still time. I'm nervous, scared, but I have to decide. Of course, there's pros and cons to everything. For starters, we don't even live together, and this unfinished industrial loft is not exactly baby-friendly. I remember having to baby proof it when Quinn spent the night.

One of Chris's drawers were open so I reached inside and grabbed a dark colored t-shirt to throw on. Next, a pair of his plain Hanes socks. I knew he'd complain once he saw me in his clothes because I always steal his clothes, but he doesn't even wear these socks or this shirt.

Anyway, I read the time on my dying phone at twenty perfect battery. It was 12:42am.

With a yawn, I ambled into the master bathroom with the sudden urge to pee. Cursed bladder.

Once I was relieved and cleaned up, I wandered into the kitchen for a snack. It's not too early to have cravings, right, because I wanted Nilla wafers, chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches, and pretzel sticks dipped in vanilla icing? At least they're normal cravings, not anything like Ritz crackers dipped in chocolate with strawberry sprinkles. I've heard stories.

I found a tub of caramel and some fresh green apple slices in a bowl in the fridge. Bingo.

"Babe!" I called out.

Crickets.

"Christopher!"

When I didn't get an answer, I shrugged and took my snack over to the couch where I made myself comfortable and turned on the newest Jeffrey Dahmer show. Chris was supposed to be binging the Netflix series with me so I felt bad starting episode three without him, but did anyway.

Only, ten minutes in, I got worried. No, not because of the show.

There was no sign of Chris in the apartment. I wondered where he could be at this time. Although, I recalled him saying he had something to do.

I panicked, rushing back to the room to grab my phone and first check his location.

"The parking garage?" I mumbled to myself.

*

One in the morning and my three-month-pregnant self was stomping out of the elevator, through the lobby, and across the parking garage to find Precious, A.K.A. Lenny, the Durango.

And there Chris was, in the driver seat, almost invisible behind the tinted windows.

I cupped my hands around my eyes and peeked inside. Chris didn't move or look at me, didn't react to me suddenly standing outside.

I flailed my arms and stomped around the truck in a pair of his Adidas slides that looked down right goofy on my feet.

By the time I got settled in the passenger seat, I was out of breath. Goddamn.

"Why are you out here at one in the morning? I had to track you down. I woke up in bed and you weren't there, you know I don't like that. What's going on, Chris?" My questions just flew at him.

Chris didn't answer. Head tilted up against the headrest, I watched his Adam's Apple swim in his throat as he swallowed.

His hair was under a black beanie and the matching hoodie. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess that he was was going to rob someone, looking like that, emotionless facial expression and all.

"Well say something!" I nagged, staring at his lips as he wet them.

"That was Malcolm at the door," Chris revealed, his voice straining.

I gasped.

"Said he was looking for you and when he finds you, he's going to propose."

"What?!" I spat. "Okay, no. What the Hell? I hate him. What did you say?"

"Not much. Doesn't matter, anyway, your parents gave him their blessing," Chris started to chuckle, hanging his head. This wasn't funny, though.

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to make sense of this.

Suddenly paranoid, I looked around and made sure Malcolm wasn't somewhere lurking.

"Let's just talk about this inside, come on-"

Chris's following words stopped me from opening the door.

He cackled. "I-I don't know what to do. 'Cause what the fuck can you do to someone like that? The worst part is that I can't. I can't- fuck!" Chris snapped and hit the steering wheel hard with his fist. I didn't even flinch. I felt his anger, his pain.

He gripped the wheel and leaned on it.

I rubbed his back and I heard the cracks of his sniffles. Frustration, that's all it is. I understood.

When I placed my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around him, I felt only a few tears wet my skin.

At first, Chris fought the feeling, not wanting to cry but when I held him tighter, he got crushed under the weight and surrendered.

I avoided rocking or patting him anymore because I didn't want to make him feel infantile or helpless, so, I remained still in our embrace.

"I'm just so fucking mad," his voice thundered. You could feel the hurt.

"I know," I sniffed with a heavy heart. That's all I could say, reassuring statements.

The question remained: what can we do to Malcolm? I attacked it from a few different standpoints.

One: we just leave and do nothing, he never sees us again.
Well, we don't want to be on the run from him, or anyone. Penshaw is our home, too.

Two: okay, someone kills him. Who's willing to go to jail for that, though? I can't ask that of someone. Not even Teddy or Jasmine's brother, Trey, who just got out of prison. They both had whole lives in front of them and loved ones. Also, the reason I didn't want Chris getting involved, he'll be the first person those dirty cops would come after if anything happens to Malcolm.
I acknowledge that he's held off this long for me, though. I know how hard it can be when you want to give someone what they deserve and can't. It's been hard for Chris having to control his anger, but he can and he has, and I'm proud of that. When those feelings erupt, though, and they will, I do not want to be on the opposite end.

Three: tell the cops that Malcolm has... what exactly? I met him online and he flew me out here with the intentions of dating and provided me with more than I ever had or needed. He did normal boyfriend shit to me but I don't like it because I accidentally fell for his so called nephew. Oh, but he was a dick to me, so lock him up.
Then they'd ask how he was a dick? Um... I had to ask permission to leave the house and hang with certain people. Not good enough? Uh, he always tried to police my outfits. No? Well, time I woke up with no memory of the night before. Okay, that's something. Wait, no, I voluntarily took the sleeping pills. Damn. What about when he threatened to kill himself once if I left him? Why was I leaving him? Because I'm fucking his God-son.
So, yeah, I got nothing.

Malcolm's evil, yes. He beat Kyle up for no reason other than he's psychotic, overbearing, and knew he'd get away with it. His business is shady, we all know he deals more than weed, but a handful of Penshaw police quite literally work for him.

I just don't know. . .

***

"Morgan, as always, you're a big help," Mary said to me.

I smiled at her from the next table over and continued fixing the centerpiece.

"Does this look crooked to you?" I asked for the third time.

She laughed warmly. "It looks fine."

"Where do you want this, Ma?" AJ questioned about the hostess stand.

As hard as he tried to talk to me and make conversation throughout the day, I ignored him. I hate to be mean but he crossed Chris and since their friendship is no more, I don't need to be chummy with him.

"By the entrance, obviously," his monotone voice returned. I laughed at her as she made a face at me about her oblivious son.

The restaurant was coming along. I still didn't like the fact that Malcolm basically owned the place, but I made sure there were no aspects of him inside.

"Hey, ladies," Carter spoke to everyone upon arriving.

"You're late," Mary nagged. He kissed her cheek, walking fast because he knew it.

"Those flowers look crooked, honey," Carter said to his wife about my centerpiece.

I flailed my arms. "See!"

"What's up, Captain?" Mr.Vaughn acknowledged me, giving my body a squeeze from the side.

"Not much," I answered, taking a seat.

"Besides being pregnant, right?" He commented, sending me a fatherly smile.

"Right..." my voice trailed off.

Mary shot me a look and I turned my back to her, sinking in the chair. I couldn't deal with her psychological stares and Mom-ish mind games.

"Elu," Sherry called me with an urgent tone. "Where's your sister, she was supposed to be at the café?"

"Is she not?" I questioned, standing with worry.

"No! Alvin just called me, says the shop never even opened today."

"What?!" Mary exclaimed. "I saw Callie and Quinn leave the suite this morning."

"Yeah," Carter chimed in. "maybe she thought she had the day off?"

"No, no," Sherry denied, standing in the middle of the floor. "I told her specifically last night that she had to open. God damn that girl."

"Relax. Let me try calling her," I spoke up, whipping my phone out of Saint Laurent bag Malcolm gifted me some time ago.

I tried her phone three times and didn't get an answer. I wish I could say it wasn't like my sister to not pick up the phone but it is, especially when she's in her moods. She was upset at the barn last night about who-knows-what. Actually, Chris talked to her. I figured he probably knew something, if she mentioned it.

So, I called him and he answered on the third ring.

"I fucking love you for saving me from this meeting right now. What's up?" He talked, hypnotizing me with his croaky voice.

"Aww," I spilled, twirling the ends of my hair. "I love you, too! How's work? You feeling better after last night?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. How are you, the baby?"

I got all tingly inside, hearing that he cared. Some men just don't ask how your day is going, so I appreciated it even if it's the bare minimum.

I twisted my body in place, smiling like a fool as we carried on a side conversation.

"Morgan!" The group yelled at me to rope me back in.

"Aren't you supposed to ask him something?" Mary reminded me.

I looked slow, confused.

"It's kind of an emergency," Sherry added, waving her brown wrists in a rushing motion.

Oh, oh. Right.

"Babe, what did you and Callie talk about last night? Was she okay?" I wondered.

"She said she was upset your parents didn't say sorry and she's jealous of you basically, but she was fine." He let me know.

Everyone tried listening in. I just shrugged at them. Sounds like Callie on a normal day to me.

"Why?" Asked Chris.

"She didn't show up for work, the café hasn't been opening all morning."

"It's almost noon," Chris said.

"Yeah, that's the problem," I replied with a sigh.

"Okay, I'll let you go. I love you."

"I love you, too. Hey, I'll call Jesse."

"Thanks. Let me know what he says," I talked, ending the call.

"Dale, the landscaper, just texted me back; said she hasn't been home," Carter spoke up.

I felt like everyone was looking to be to be responsible for my older sister. I wish I could say this wasn't the first time I had to cover her and save the day.

I swung the bag over my arms and rushed to the front door.

"And Morgan, when you find her..." Sherry jeered after me.

I kept my hand on the handle but rotated my upper body so that she wasn't speaking to my back.

She said, "Tell her she's fired."

***

"-Okay, thanks." I wrapped up another phone call.

"Who was that?" My mother asked me as I paced behind the couch.

"The daycare," I answered, throwing my phone wherever it felt like landing. "they said Quinn never got dropped off today."

"Now I'm getting worried," Jesse fretted. His long shook violently as he sat at the kitchen table in The Vaughn's home.

We all waited around, hoping for some good news soon.

"Does she do this often, just run off?" Asked my mother.

I nodded but at the same time, Jesse said, "No."

The two of us stared each other down across the room but Jesse broke contact first and I won, celebrating the small victory over him.

"This just isn't like her," Jesse defended my sister.

"Dude, it is so like her. I know you're her boyfriend or whatever, but you don't know her like I do. She does this. All. The. Time. Give it another hour, she'll come in here all manic," I snapped at him.

"Alright, babe, chill. Chill," Chris warned, pulling me down onto the couch right next to his body.

I kept my cold glare on Jesse for a second longer. Who did he think he is, coming in here like he knows her so well, defending her saying she would never do something like this when she's done it at least three times before in the past?

"Did you guys have a fight, or anything that would've led to her up and leaving?" My father asked Jesse.

He rubbed his greasy hands on the dirty navy pants he wore as a work uniform. "No. I don't know. I was drunk last night. I remember her saying no one appreciates her, that people only like her for Quinn, and compare her to Morgan."

"Yeah, she said that to me, too," Chris spoke up, spreading his legs further apart.

"But she was fine after that."

"Yeah," Mary chimed in. "we laughed all night."

"She told us this was the happiest she's been in a while," said my father, picking at the skin on his hands. Mom nodded, eyes wide with parental anxiety.

Well that was reassuring, I thought. All fears I had about her possibly doing something stupid went out the window. While I was mad at her - and not Jesse's biggest fan right now either - I'm happy she's happy.

The seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and the three hours we waited around felt like days. Time was excruciatingly slow.

Mary was doing her best, trying to keep everyone positive. I'm normally that way, too, but I've been through this one too many times with Callie to allow myself to be so stressed.

"So, what're everyone's Thanksgiving plans?" My mother posed the question.

"Oh, that is right around the corner, isn't it?" Carter pondered.

"Well, we host something at the bed and breakfast every year. This year, though, I was thinking something here, more intimate? I'd love it if everyone here could make it," Mary extended the invitation.

"Is this our first holiday together?" I hummed, warming up to Chris.

"Technically, no," he said, locking our fingers as his hand was draped over my shoulder. "Juneteenth, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween..."

I laughed. "You're not wrong. So, is this when we fight about who's parents we're going to have dinner with?"

"No offense, but I think the clear answer is mine," Chris cracked, speaking in my ear.

I laughed, squirming as his deep voice and breath tickled my flesh. "And then we can go Black Friday shopping, right?"

"Huh?" He played, earning an elbow to the ribs, making him laugh aloud.

"Huh?" I mocked, starting a playful fight on the couch cushions.

It was dark out but Mary hadn't drawn the blinds or curtains because they were keeping an eye on the streets in case Callie's Nissan pulled up.

8:59pm

"Okay, this is ridiculous," my mother roared, standing up. She pulled her cardigan over her chest and ended up in the kitchen, fixing a mug of coffee.

My positivity went out of the window in the last half hour.

When my leg started to shake, Chris put his hand there and stopped the compulsory movement.

I gulped hard, darting my eyes around the room at everyone to observe how anxious they were as well.

That's when a phone started to ring, an iPhone. Everyone with one started to dig in their pockets and see if it's was theirs or not.

"It's me!" I squealed, retrieving my phone from the crack of the sofa.

The room fell quiet as I answered the call from Penshaw memorial hospital.

I didn't have time to tell my friends and family who was calling because I put my ear to the screen right away and spoke.

"Hello?"

"Hi." A woman talked back. "Is this Morgan A. Bennett, sister of Caleen Rae-"

"Yes."

There was a long pause and then she sighed deeply. "I'm sorry..."

***To Be Continued***