Love Bait

35| Hopeless

There's about a minute delay before I jerk into action, falling out of the doorway and out into the torrent of rain. Rain pelts my skin as I dart through the yard, over to the gate. It's been ripped off its hinges, which means Jordan and the dog are somewhere on the flooded main street.

My hand goes up to shield my eyes, but it's no use. I'm soaked to the bone, damp hair stuck to my forehead in clumps, unable to see more than a foot or two in front of me. Leaves and bits of fallen debris being thrown by the wind slap my arms and my legs, but I hardly even notice. All I can think about is Jordan.

Rule number one, not that Jordan knows this being a city boy and all, is that you do not run out into the storm. I call out his name, but the gale-force winds make it impossible to hear. When a metal can swept up by the wind appears to head straight for me, I duck.

"Jordan!" I call out, looking down the street, but seeing through the dark is impossible. I turn to look down the other end, but except for fallen trees and debris, there's nothing around. Everyone else has the good sense to stay indoors.

There's not a single house on this street unprepared. The trees have been trimmed back in preparation, the glass windows boarded up with plywood or special shutters. The once lively community is shuttered away, like something from a post-apocalyptic movie, and I am that idiotic character with a death wish.

The rain pounds harder, like lashes of a whip against my face. I pull up my hood, but half a second later, a strong gust of wind rips it back. My heart is racing as I stand here, frozen to the bone, scared. I've experienced many storms in my short eighteen years, but I've never had someone I care about run into one.

"Jordan!" I'm running down the street like a madwoman. Everywhere I look is chaos, bits of debris flying overhead and thwacking the rows of houses. A tree snaps in half right in front of my face, its branches lost to the wind. One of them hurtles toward me and catches the side of my neck before I can duck. 

The impact stings, but I barely have time to react. Lightning strikes a tree at the bottom of the street, followed by a crack of thunder. The sound sends vibrations through my chest, all the way down to my feet. There have only been a few times I've been morbid enough to imagine how I'll die, none of which involved being fried in a hurricane.

Shivering, I wrap my arms around my body, despite knowing it won't help. I am drenched right through, and no amount of rubbing my arms is going to warm me up. Still, it's about all I can think to do right now, because there's no way I can head back home and leave Jordan out here alone.

"Jordan!" I scream again, but this time there's defeat in my voice. Hopelessness.

Just like that, I'm there again – the night Mom died. I can see it so clearly, hear every sound of that night. The crunching sound of metal as our car collided with the other, the spinning that followed. The piercing screams of Lexi and me in the back seat, and then the stillness of mom as she breathed in and out, each breath shallower and raspier than the last.

I don't remember much between the crash to us arriving in hospital, but I remember being hopeful as she laid in the hospital bed that she'd pull through. And then she didn't. In less than an hour, I lost my whole world, no warning, no compromising. No begging. One moment she was there, the next she was gone, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

A shiver descends my spine, a cold, empty feeling taking over. There's a lump in my throat, a panic in my chest that builds and grows, threatening to take hold. Then, slowly, someone emerges from the dark. I run toward the hazy figure, ready to hug and kill him at once, but the closer I get, the quicker it dawns on me it's not Jordan emerging from the storm, it's Mr. Roberts, an older man from down the street.