The Other Side

Chapter 3

THE OTHER SIDE

 Chapter 3

The shock on Christina’s face was clearer than the water of any, ocean or river. She could barely get any words out when she tried to speak; her throat was clamped shut in shock.

 “This can’t be right.” I spoke for her, “You must have made a mistake. Whoever contacted you must have made a mistake.”

 Ryan took a step my way, looking directly into my ocean-blue eyes, “The M.I.D.F unfortunately do not make mistakes, Lana.” Ryan said, sounding apologetic for some reason, “And no one, I’m sure, is stupid enough to pick up the phone and call Mayor Christopher directly at his office, only to be making up a story.”

 “But there is no way Michael would have been involved in any criminal activity of any sort.” I was too angry to care or wonder how he knew my name. I was beyond yelling now,“And even if he was—which he wasn’t—how in hell would we know, if we don’t even know what this ‘criminal activity’ is in the first place!”

 Ryan stared at me for a moment, his green eyes flashing in a way that made me feel that he didn't want to be here or be doing this- now that I think if it, they looked really sad- before looking over at his men and engaging them in orders.

 “Search the apartment.” He said, and all the men moved from their spots instantly, swinging their guns over their backs by their faded leather straps.

 I looked over at Christina, who still seemed to look dumbfounded and shocked. She was completely frozen in place; the only thing that indicated that she was still a part of the living was her flushed cheeks and her chest, which was rising and falling from her rapid breathing.I went to take a step toward her, when suddenly the sound of shattering glass rang through the apartment. I turned, “Hey—“

 “Hey, what are you doing?” Christina yelled, cutting me off but saying exactly what I was about to. Fury seemed to flare behind her eyes, replacing her earlier shock.

 The M.I.D.F were rummaging through everything in Christina’s apartment, carelessly throwing and knocking over anything in their path. Her once clean apartment looked like a tornado had developed within the clouds and ran through it in only a matter of seconds. Christina was far from happy about this.

 “Will you quit touching my stuff?!” She yelled, tears rimming her eyes, “Stop throwing things!” One guy picked up her favourite photo of her father, of whom had died in the Thailand tsunami when he was on a work trip, when she was a little girl.

 “No! Don’t you dare throw that! Don’t you—“

 He almost seemed to smirk a little at her, then toss the photo to the ground. I heard the shattering chime of the glass and the quick snap of the frame. The photograph had been a birthday present, too.

 “Christina,” I whispered.

 She walked to the broken photo frame—the only thing she cared about in this whole apartment—and dropped to her knees, picking up the broken pieces up with her trembling hands.

 “Christina,” I walked over to her and knelt beside her, “Christina.”

 She didn’t look at me. She only stared at the photo of her father, tears running uncontrollably down her face in a wet frame, “But he didn’t do anything. He didn’t.” She cried, leaning into my shoulder, “Michael is a good boy. He would never do anything to hurt anyone.”

 I brushed her blonde hair out of her face, “No, he wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t.” I whispered.

 It was only then that I noticed the sound of things shuffling, shattering and thumping had silenced. I looked up and spotted all the men standing in front of the open window, including Ryan, inspecting something that I could not see over their large masculine bodies.I slowly got up off the floor, when Ryan turned and looked at Christina with widened eyes. So did the rest of them.