The Numbers on Her Wrist

34

A/N Okay, so I realized I forgot to add the paragraph where Amelia changes into more appropriate clothing for her mission last chapter. xD Whoopsie-daisy. Anyways, she'll describe it in this first little blurb, but just pretend I wasn't so forgetful. <3

I wipe sweaty palms on the dark, torn skinny jeans I changed into before I left, my loose black shirt swaying in the light wind as I slow my jog to a walk, and I pull against my leather jacket. I wear a dark beanie to cover the top of my hair, but red wisps still find a way to escape the stretchy hat.

I duck through the tall shadows cast by towering building, cast by blinding light, cast by a gleaming moon, and I fiddle with the card that houses the messily inked number of Agent Daniel Lawson. I can feel something akin to fear begin to eat away at my stomach.

It isn't just for one reason, though.

There are so many things that could go horribly wrong tonight.

There are so many things that could cause my death tonight.

There are so many things that could result in failure tonight.

I try hopelessly to press these looming thoughts out of my mind, but they weigh on my chest and nothing I do can make them go away. I know what I have to do, I know that no matter if Lawson helps me or not, I will go straight to the orphanage to save them; I will call him and he will listen, and then I will go while he struggles to find people to help him save the girl with the numbers on her wrist.

I will have to be quick and silent once I enter the orphanage, and I will need to be ready to take out anyone who stands in my way of rescuing the children.

Take out.

Funny how the idea of killing a person seems so unrealistic until you are moments from doing. Funny how we use so many new, different words to describe the same action.

I blink several times to adjust my eyes to the dampened light as I reach the pay phone that is positioned not far from the street that leads to the Association's well-hidden home; thankfully, because it is so late in the night- no, because it is so early in the morning- there is absolutely no one out. The sidewalk is completely clear of the general public that usually crowd the pavements; all I can see is a stray dog sniffing throughout the alleyways in a desperate hope for some form of food, but not even a drunken man or casual lady of the night stumbles past me.

I clear my throat gently on the eerily deserted street, glancing over my shoulder for no apparent reason and noticing how there is barely enough light coming from a buzzing sign, with three letters unlit and one flickering on and off, for me to even be able to see the numbers on the small piece of paper. Taking the worn black phone off its metal hook and resting it on my shoulder as I hold the card in one hand, I begin to dial the correct numbers for Agent Lawson. It takes me longer than a moment, as I have to squint in order to see the small markings in the dim light.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Come on now, Lawson. Pick up the phone. Please, pick up the phone. Pick it up!

Ring.

Ring.

Ri-

"Hello?" A sleep-deprived voice speaks softly through the line, my heart fluttering thankfully at the fact that he answered. "Who is this?" He sounds groggy when I don't immediately reply, so I hope my next lines will pull him further awake.

"Daniel? It's me, Amelia Reyes... I-I, uh, need your help. I'm in some trouble."

I wait as I hear him yell out to a few agents, telling them that he needs to take this call and for them to continue to keep watch without him. I allow a few moments of silence to pass as I listen to him retreating from a room and the door slamming loudly behind the FBI agent. I twirl my fingers through the phone cord as he curses under his breath and only after the sound of rustling paper from his end does he proceed to answer me. "Miss Reyes... It is quite late for you to be calling me."