24.

2.7K 124 21
                                    

"It's a three-hour drive," I croak. "Still wanna come?" It's not too late for me to drop off Robbie.

"Y-y-yeah. I can drive if you want."

"No, I need to focus," I tighten my grip on the streeling wheel, turning my knuckles white. "Why did you say yes?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. "Why did you ask me to come? I honestly thought you hated me, but because we walked together, you had to be...nice, or whatever qualifies as nice for you." If I wasn't so worried about Agnes, I would've smiled at Robbie. "I'm sorry," he turns red.

"You don't have to..." I choke up at the realization that he reminds me of Agnes...somehow. When Charlie first hired him, he called me William all the time until I snapped at him for it. I never apologized to him, and he never asked me to. He simply continued being nice to me; smiling and waving every time he came in and saw me, helping me move the larger logs without asking him. He's a good kid. "You don't have to apologize. I'm an asshole, especially at work."

There's a quick pause of silence, then-

"I never met my parents," Robbie says calmly, "I've dreamed about meeting them, literally, but I was too scared to know the reason for giving me up."

"How do you know they gave you up?"

"They told me when I turned eighteen."

"I'm...sorry won't help."

"It won't," he chuckles.

********

Gloria's cruiser is parked in front of Tisha's place. The door's wide open and the lights are still on. "Will?" Robbie asks horrified.

"Our friend's a cop," I say, jumping out of the car. I run full speed up the driveway, across the lawn, and up the stairs. "Agnes!" I yell, bursting through the front door.

Tisha is seated on the couch, Gloria's pacing back and forth, but stops when she sees me. I take a second to take in their puffy eyes, then dart fit the stairs. But Gloria surprisingly moves faster than me and steps in my way. I crash into her, knocking her on her ass.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I help her up.

"Give her a second. She finally stopped crying."

"I don't care," I gently shove her to the side then run up the steps. The door to my room is shut.

For the past three hours, I've been rushing to get to Agnes; running red lights and stop signs, going fifteen over the speed limit, most times twenty-I'm honestly surprised I didn't get pulled over, but now that I'm here, my body's moving slow.

I gently knock on the door...and nothing. I open the door and step inside. Agnes is sitting under the desk, holding her knees to her chest as her entire body trembles. Her little face is buried into her arms and knees, and her wild hair drapes around her like a blanket.

"Agnes?" I try, then hear the faintest gasp from her. I step closer and the floorboard cracks underneath me.

"No!" Agnes sobs, unwrapping her arms from her body, and roughly covers her ears with her hands. Her eyes are shut tightly, it looks painful.

"Agnes," I cross the room and drop to one knee, kneeling in front of her. "It's me."

"No, no, no, no, no, no," she continues to sobs as she shakes her head violently. Tears pour out her shut eyes like a sudden rainstorm and her face...her tiny face that holds the world's precious smile is twisted in a mixture of pure rage and pain. As if her sobs weren't enough, one glance at her can break anyone.

"Agnes!" I say more firmly. "Please?" I reach her, but the moment my skin meets hers, she shoves me away.

"You can't be here!" She yells, her fury taking full control.

"Agnes," I gasp. Does she not want me here? She stares at me with much older eyes, as if all her pain and sorrow and hate has aged her. Her body's trembling. She's lost and screaming for help from the inside. For a second I think this little girl isn't my Agnes, but then I see that she is. My Agnes has been through so much in her seven years of living and she's allowed to break down every now and then, but there's no way in hell I'm going to let her go through it alone.

"Agnes," I say softly, "it's me."

Then-if possible-more tears fall from her eyes. Her anger is replaced with pain again. I'm crying now, wondering how someone so small can hold so much sorrow. "Why?" She whimpers, "Why doesn't he want me?"

I can feel my heart breaking.

"Kid," I reach for her again, but she pushes me away again. I continue to break. Why is she literally pushing me away? "Agnes?"

Agnes drops her shoulders. "No! They were supposed to care about me...they were the only ones that were supposed to love me more than anything in the world, what went wrong?" She sounds so broken and confused. The tears in my eyes begin to sting and I quickly wipe my cheeks and rub my eyes with the back of my hand. "What did I-"

"You did nothing wrong!" I snap.

"Why?" She hugs her knees to her chest again. "If my own parents couldn't care about me, how could you?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. How do I explain to Agnes that her parents are shit? They're fucking assholes, and it makes my blood boil knowing that they've spent the last seven years hurting her.

How do I explain to her that she's my life now?

"Nobody loves me," Agnes whispers to herself.

"I love you."

She gasps and her quivering stops. She lifts her head to look at me through her soaked lashes. I can see the tiniest sense of hope and happiness in her big blue eyes. "What did you just...?"

"I love you, and I want to be here for you-" I extend my hand to her "-but only if you want me to be."

She nods violently as she wipes her tears with her wrist, then launches herself into my arms. I hold her close to my chest, draping my arms around her. I shut my eyes before a new set of tears came pouring out of my eyes. "I love you too, William." I never knew how bad I needed to hear that. "Thank you for coming."

I kiss the top of her head. "I promise you I'm always going to be here...I mean, I can't always be here-I mean, I will always be here when I can, I mean, you saw how I came today?" The words pour out of me like a waterfall, and I sigh.

Agnes giggles through her tears then leans away from my chest to look at me and says, "I know what you mean."

All the crying and yelling and shaking must've done a number on her because she looks so drained. Her grin is sleepy, her eyelids appear heavy and the bags under her eyes beg for sleep. Using just my fingertips, I brush her hair out of her face. "Do you want to try sleeping?"

She nods, shutting her eyes.

"Wait-" her eyes pop open "-will you be here when I wake up?"

"Yeah," I promise, and she shuts her eyes again.

Fighting For What's MissingWhere stories live. Discover now