"What we had is over, Dawn. You don't have to do this anymore. You're free to go."
I traced the glass separating us with my fingers, looking into his green eyes and whispered to the phone, "So you want to know why I'm still here?"
He just stare...
"If he doesn't want my help, I won't be able to do anything, Dawn," Desmond said, brown eyes fixed on me. Apparently, the fact that Silas didn't want my help had a bad impact on my eyes. I tried my best to squeeze the tears in, looking around Desmond's cabin in false hope.
Under the farthest window, a small photo frame sat on a rich mahogany table. The golden of Stacy's hair glistened from the sunlight coming through the shutters. Desmond noticed my attention towards his late wife and cleared his throat.
I whipped my head back at him, tucking a curl behind my ear in the process. Behind the dark wooden desk, he looked like a man with power, a man I wanted to trust.
"So what do you suggest?" I asked, stealing a glance at the globe on his desk. Several spots were marked with black marker. Beside the globe, a series of colorful paperweights were scattered.
"I suggest you convince him first and then I'll see what I can do. If he agrees, I am willing to take this case. It's all up to him." Desmond's words were coming in slow motion, his face blurry as if someone covered it with a fishbowl.
"Okay," I muttered, looking down at my fidgeting fingers.
"Dawn?"
"Hmm."
"He will understand if you try to make him." Desmond's voice held some kind of hidden code as if he was suggesting me something else. As I repeated his words in my head, it clicked.
Of course, I could make him understand. I had that much power over him, I supposed.
"Thanks, Desmond," I nodded as we stood together from our seats, shaking our hands afterward.
"Thank me later, Dawn. When I can give you a reason to be grateful." Brown eyes crinkled at me when he took his hand back to him, shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. "I'll see you out."
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"I'm sorry, ma'am. But he doesn't wanna see you," an officer in uniform declared after 3 hours of the waiting game. Taking a deep breath, I requested with all my strength. But all I could see in his blue eyes was sympathy for me. I left that day.
Next day, the same officer showed up after 2 hours, carrying the same message with him. But I stayed another hour, hoping he would show up. However, the rest of the week had gone with waiting for him, shedding unwanted tears and counting the numbers of the clock on the wall of the waiting room.
Next week when I sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room, I had already decided that I wouldn't leave until I could talk to him. Luminous numbers in the clock had passed in a blink of an eye. I had shifted several times in my seat. The officer had suggested me to go home multiple times. But I was determined. Hell, I was in love.
But when the blue-eyed officer had shown up once again, raking both hands through his trimmed blond hair, I knew what he would say.
Not wanting to give him the chance, I stood, letting out a question, "Who is on duty now? You know, on the corridor of his cell?"
