The Bars Between Us

9. Phone Call.

With every moment that goes by without Roman home, my worry heightens. The butterflies zoom around my stomach as the sky outside gets dark. I tap my phone against my lip, before I finally bring it down to unlock it. I tap the keyboard as I type out my message.

Do you know when you'll be coming home? I press send, before staring at the phone waiting for a response. After five minutes I give up. I throw the phone to the side and pick up the TV remote.

*^*^*

I try and focus on the film that I found on one of the many channels, but I keep glancing at my phone beside me to see if Roman's replied. It's not that I want him home; it's the fear of the unexpected. He could burst through the front door any minute in a foul mood. I at least want a warning so I can prepare myself for what is about to come.

I bite my lip as I glance at my phone again. Sighing, I grab my phone and scroll through my short contact list, finding Roman's. I press it and bring the device up to my ear. There is a pause before the ringing starts. I hold my breath as the rings go on, waiting for them to stop and hear Roman's voice. They eventually end and I breathe in sharply, only to exhale when I hear his voicemail.

"I'm not able to come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you at the next convenient time."

I wait for the message to stop and leave my own. "Roman, I texted you about half an hour ago. I don't know if you got it and you're now ignoring me, or it didn't go through, or you didn't see it, but I'm just wondering what time you will be home tonight."

I bite my lip, hanging up the phone. It feels wrong that I'm pestering Roman about where he is; usually it's the other way around. I return my attention back to the screen, waiting for Roman's response. Again.

When the credits start to roll, I decide that Roman is not going to respond. I sigh and flick through the channels, trying to find something else to watch. I just have to go with the unexpected. When I find nothing, I turn the TV off and stare at the white fireplace, letting my mind wander.

I immediately regret it when my mind goes straight to the visit earlier. I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I can feel his hand on my leg all over again. My stomach churns. Wanting to get rid of the feeling, I decide to go for a shower and change out of my clothes. I rush up the stairs and into the bathroom, bringing my phone just in case Roman decides to call all of a sudden.

I turn the warm water on as I change out of my clothes. As soon as I step under the water, I feel slightly better, but I grab the soap, wanting to get the feeling off as soon as possible. I start to scrub, and with every scrub I feel better.

Once I am clean and comfortable, I relax under the water and slowly start to lather the shampoo into my hair. My phone starts to ring. I groan opening my eyes, but quickly scrunch them back up when the shampoo slides down into them. I put my head back under the stream of water, washing the shampoo out of my hair and away from my eyes. Bleary-eyed, I shut off the water and walk out of the shower. I grab a towel as I walk over to my still-ringing phone.

I look at who is trying to contact me, and, not unexpectedly, it's not Roman. The number however was from Boston Correctional Institution. Curious, I bring the phone up to my ear, answering it. I secure the towel around my chest, but hold onto it as I walk into the bedroom. An automated message starts to play.

"You have an incoming call from inmate..." The female automated voice stops and Nixon's replaces it.

"Nixon Hawk," the deep voice of Nixon surprises me so much that I almost drop my phone. Why is he calling me? How did he even get my number?

"... at the Boston Correctional Institution. Do you wish to take it? Pr-" I cut the automated voice off by bringing the phone down from my ear and pressing one, accepting the call. I've had inmates call me before, because I would give them my number, so I know the deal.

There is a pause before Nixon's voice comes through the speaker of my phone.

"Hi, Affie," he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Nixon. How did you get my number?" I ask him, crossing my legs now sitting on the bed.

"I have my sources," he replies. A silence follows, which allows me to hear that he is in the yard.

"Does anyone else know?" I ask worried, thinking I might have to change my number.

"No."

I let out a small sigh.

"Why are you calling?" I ask.

"Why not?" he answers.

"You don't know me that well; we just met." I state. I can hardly talk; I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since we met.

"Well, I wanted to know if you were okay. I heard about what happened."

I scratch my leg, before answering. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, Clayton came over and he helped," I admit.

"Good, I just wanted to check that you hadn't been scared off. You haven't answered my question," he states, his tone changing from concern to a cockier one. I let a small smile come to my lips.

"I'll be there," I assure him.

"So... What are you wearing?" he asks. My mouth falls open as a deep blush hits my cheeks. I pull the towel closer around my body.

"I—Uh," I stumble. The front door slams downstairs before I hear Roman call my name. "I've got to go!"

"Everything okay?" Nixon asks.

"Yeah, I just have to go."

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Affie," he says hanging the phone up.

"I'll be down in a minute, I just got out of the shower," I call down to Roman as I grab some clothes. I change into them before running downstairs. It sounds like Roman isn't in a good mood—not that I expected anything else. I slow down when I get to the last step, stepping off it slowly.

"Hey, Ro," I start off calmly, trying to influence his mood. He looks me up and down.

"Care to explain to what happened?" I slowly go through everything that happened, hoping for him to realize that I did everything I could and it wasn't my fault.

"... after they pulled him off me, I ran out of there," I finish. He presses his lips together before replying.

"Okay," he says simply. I furrow my eyebrows.

"Wait, what? You're not mad?" I ask surprised.

"Nope," he denies, walking around me. I raise my eyebrows.

Has he finally stopped abusing me?

Here you go!

I hope you liked it.

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