Song: Sorry // Nothing But Thieves

•••

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Based on all the articles I read, morning sickness should disappear when a woman entered her second trimester. I must've been an anomaly to the fact then, given that my morning sickness didn't seem like it was going to disappear any time soon.

When I told the doctor about my nausea and persistent headaches, she said that she had to run some tests during my now-weekly visits. She had a diagnosis ready, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. She informed me that she'd run those tests and in the meantime, I had to keep track of any more symptoms.

Dylan, unfortunately, was with me when she gave me the rundown, which meant that he was now worried shitless. He took it upon himself to become my shadow. The man followed me everywhere I went, made sure I ate every last bite of my food, and would continuously ask me whether I had any of the symptoms Doctor Otieno had listed.

When he was at work, he would call me every other hour to check up on me. I've had to resort to my teenage tactics, in which I'd decline his calls and reply with a vague text. I've even had to sneak out of the house because he was persistent about the fact that I shouldn't be going places on my own.

Dylan didn't even know the diagnosis and he was worried as shit. I, on the other hand, was taking it easy. I've been feeling these symptoms for the sixteen-weeks of my pregnancy and nothing has happened to me yet.

I sent Dylan a brief text stating that I was going to leave the house to run some 'errands' and he replied with a call that I declined. I took the bus to Antoine's school and faced the same receptionist that told me to dress modestly. This time, I was dressed in a loose oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. They were comfortable, fit my pregnancy belly, and looked good.

After asking to pull Antoine out of his class, I sat in the lounge again and waited for them to escort him out. The poor kid was confused as to why he was leaving, but once he saw me, his face brightened up.

"Are we going on another adventure?" He asked in excitement when I took his back bag off his shoulders.

I placed a finger over my pursed lips, "Shh," I hushed him and dramatically glanced at the receptionist, who was looking at us suspiciously. "If the mean old lady hears you, she won't let us go."

He widened his eyes and nodded his head violently. I ushered him out of the school and to the bus stop. After twenty minutes, we reached The Plaza. I took Antoine's hand in mine and directed him towards an ice cream store. My nephew squealed at the thought of eating the ice-cold delicacy, and he bolted in the direction of the store.

After ordering two cups of ice cream, chocolate chip for him and melon for me, we sat down outside in their seating area.

 "Merci, tata!" He said in his high-pitched voice.

I ate a spoonful of my ice cream and winked at him. He grinned before glancing back down at his two scoops of chocolate chip ice cream. I took the time to carefully study my nephew. Dylan had named him after our father. Antoine was papa's real name, but when he moved away from France, he changed his name to Anthony so people could easily pronounce it.

If there was one thing papa couldn't stand, it was people mispronouncing his name.

Antoine had dark brown hair that stood up in all directions. His hair was similar to Rose's in the sense that it was frizzy, untamed, and curly. His eyes were also a honey-brown color, just like his mother's. Everything else, though, he took after his father. His nose, his lips, his medium skin-tone. I was sure that when he grew up, he'd also have Dylan's jawline and stubble.

I chuckled when I noticed how his lips were outlined with ice cream. I picked up a napkin, cupped his face, and wiped his mouth. His nose crinkled at the action, but his eyes shone with happiness.

"So, mon chou, how was your day?" I asked as I carefully scraped the side of the cup to spoon some ice cream.

Antoine let the ice cream melt in his mouth as he stared at me thoughtfully. Then, he perked up and dropped his spoon into the cup, "There's this girl in my class, her name is Amy and she sits next to me. The teachers told us we had to design a family tree in class. When we were working on our projects, she just fell."

Immediately, my expression turned into a worried one, "She just fell?" I repeated incredulously.

With wide eyes, he nodded his head. He set his cup on the table and straightened his back.

"Tata, just imagine I'm gluing a picture on the paper, okay?" He said as he hunched over the table and mimicked dragging a glue stick over the paper. Then out of nowhere, he pretended to drop the glue stick, closed his eyes, and fell off the chair.

I stifled a laugh at his reenactment of the events. He pushed himself off the floor and jumped onto his feet. He sat back on the chair and picked up his ice cream cup.

"Just like that. She fell off her seat." He told me with furrowed eyebrows. "The teacher tried to wake her up but she wouldn't. They had to carry her to the nurse."

I quirked an eyebrow and carefully glided my spoon against the side of the ball of ice cream left, "Is she okay, now?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. They didn't let us check up on her. I think her papa came to pick her up."

"It's a good thing your teachers knew what to do."

He nodded in agreement as he swallowed the spoonful of ice cream, "Yup! The teachers said she fainted. I thought she died." He said nonchalantly, lifting the spoon up to his lips.

I choked on the air and stared at my nephew in amusement. I glanced around The Plaza. A bunch of people were walking around with shopping bags in their hands. Some had a takeaway coffee cups that they occasionally took a sip of, while others were typing away on their phone.

I pointed at a woman who was carrying a tote bag on her shoulder, "Let's say that that woman just fainted right now. Do you know what you'd have to do?"

Antoine glanced at the woman and furrowed his eyebrows. He shook his head before looking at me.

"Well, she's by herself, so we can't ask her friends if this usually happens."

"Are there people who faint all the time?" He asked in awe.

I nodded my head, "There are some people who have a sickness that can make them faint a lot. But you," I said, tapping his nose with my finger. "Are alright. You've never fainted– you're healthy."

I glanced back at the woman who's figure was slowly disappearing from sight, "Anyways, the first thing you'd do is check if the woman is breathing. You're obviously too young to do that, but you can ask someone else to check. You also have to call an ambulance."

"What's that?" He tilted his head as he took in the information.

"It's this van that carries doctors. The doctors can help the woman who fainted. Then, they'll take her to a hospital to make sure everything else is alright."

"Mama works in a hospital!" He exclaimed. "Maybe she can help."

I nodded, "Rose helps save a lot of lives."

"Like a superhero!" He jumped in his seat, with wide eyes.

I snapped my fingers before pointing at him, "Exactly! Nurses are a very important part of a hospital. When the ambulance gets to the hospital, they're the ones who move them into rooms and help doctors treat them."

He quieted down and stared at his ice cream cup thoughtfully. I let him think over everything I just told him as I ran the edge of my spoon over the ice cream to both smooth it out and pick some up.

"Tata, no one never showed me how to call an ambulance," He said with a pout.

I paused and stared at him with raised eyebrows. Weren't these the basics that everybody should know?

I set the cup down on the table and scooted my chair back. I patted my lap, "Viens ici," I told him as I stuck my hand in my pocket to pull out my phone. Antoine jumped off his seat and ran around the table before he lifted himself onto my lap.

I wrapped an arm around his small body and held my phone in front of him, "Okay. If you're in a public place, like here, you can ask somebody else to call them. But, if we're at home, and let's say, your papa fainted, then you do this."

I showed him how to access the emergency call section on my phone. I typed the number onto my phone and made him repeat it until he memorized it. Then, I gave him my phone so he could go through all the steps again.

"You can also usually use this number to call the police or firefighters. The person who answers the phone will help you through whatever is happening."

He nodded to signal he heard what I said and continued typing in the phone number. I told him not to press call so that we wouldn't get in trouble. As he played with the phone, I picked up my ice cream cup and finished what was left of it.

"Hi, papa!" Antoine exclaimed, and when I glanced at him, I found him holding the phone up to his ear. "Tata took me on an adventure today! She taught me how to call an ambulance."

He paused as he listened to whatever his father had to say, "Okay, papa! Bye!"

He then twisted around and gave me the phone, "Papa wants to talk to you."

I smiled before picking up the phone from his tiny outstretched hand, "What's up?" I greeted.

"Amber," He started through an exasperated breath. "What did I say about stealing my child?"

"It's not stealing if he's my nephew." I quipped. "Why'd you call anyways?"

I could imagine my brother pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed, "We'll talk about this later. Where are you?"

I rolled my eyes, "Dylan, you need to calm down man. I'm good, I feel fine, and I had a second helping of breakfast after you left."

"I need to talk to you right now, Bee. How soon can you make it to my office?" He asked, his tone grave and serious.

I sobered up, "Is everything alright?" I questioned as I picked up the trash on the table. Antoine held his cup in his hand along with the tissues he used to wipe his mouth. I threw his backpack over my shoulder and hurriedly stood up.

"I'll tell you when you get here," He told me as we tossed everything away into a bin. "Do you need me to come and get you guys?"

I held Antoine's hand in mine and walked towards the direction of the bus stop, "No, it's fine." I replied as I maneuvered around the people walking around The Plaza. "We're in front of the bus station, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Alright, be safe," He said. "Love you."

"Love you too," I replied before hanging up the phone.

"Is everything okay, tata?" Antoine asked as he looked up at me with innocent eyes.

I tapped my foot against the ground as I waited for the bus to arrive at the stop.

I honestly don't know, mon cher.

"Of course," I told him, ruffling his hair. "Tout est bien."

•••

I entered the building I haven't entered in years feeling anxious. The security guard already knew who I was, so he let me through without any trouble. With Antoine's hand in mine, I hurried into papa's private elevator. As soon as the doors closed, I let out a breath, ignoring how my torso hurt when I did so.

"Why are we here, tata?" My nephew asked as he stared at himself in the mirror in the elevator.

"Your dad wants to talk to me, Antoine," I replied, looking up at the screen that blinked every time we passed a floor.

We finally reached the top floor, where Dylan's office was. The doors opened, and Antoine instantly ran out. Ms. Sanders perked up at the sight of me with my nephew, and I waved at her before signaling that I'd talk to her later. She nodded and shot me a smile before going back to work.

I knocked on the door before inputting the code that opened the doors to the office. The door automatically pushed itself open, and I walked in with Antoine.

"Hi, papa!" Antoine yelled excitedly as he ran towards his father, who was typing away on his phone. At the sound of his son's voice, Dylan glanced up just in time to see Antoine barrelling towards him. My brother grinned at the sight and opened his arms to catch him.

"Hey, Tony," Dylan whispered into his son's hair as he pulled him onto his lap. "How was your 'adventure?"

I threw Antoine's backpack onto a couch in the office before I fell onto the chair in front of Dylan's desk. I winced when I felt a dull pain below my chest, and I gently pressed down the area. The pain intensified at the action, and I thanked whatever higher power that existed that Dylan was too preoccupied with his son to notice.

Antoine was rambling on about Amy and how I taught him to call an ambulance. He even took Dylan's phone from him to show him how to dial first responders.

"That's great, Tony." He praised his son before glancing at me. An unknown emotion flashed across his eyes. He patted Antoine's lap, "Do you mind going to Lillian's office, Tony? I need to talk to your aunt."

"Okay!" Antoine chirped as he jumped off my brother's lap, running out the door.

I leaned back into the seat and crossed my leg over the other, "What's so serious that you had to interrupt my day out with Antoine? Now I'm gonna have to pull him out again just to make up–"

"Detective Ramsey called," He cut me off. My sentence died down in my throat at the statement. My muscles tensed as my mouth dried out. "He said that they're planning on arresting them tonight. They have enough evidence to get a confession out of them."

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, "That's... good."

His features softened, "They need you to travel back there, Bee." He said, his eyes darting over my face to search for a hint of any emotion. "They have two suspects that match the description of one of the men, and they need you there to tell them which one of them was part of the robbery."

I wiped my damp hands on the sides of my sweatpants, "Can't I do that through a video call or something?" I asked, my voice low and raspy.

He shook his head with a frown, "No, Bee. The detective said that the camera can distort their facial features. You need to be there in person, and since they can only keep them in the holding cell for so long, we need to be there as soon as possible."

Fuck me. I didn't want to go back there. The place was filled with memories I made with Adam. There was a reason I quit my job there; I just couldn't live there for any longer without living in fear and paranoia.

I played with the ends of my curls, "Can I even travel when I'm pregnant?" I asked, my voice cracking, already knowing that the answer was 'yes'. I was just grasping at straws here– I wanted a reason to not go.

Dylan's face fell, not at the question, but at the sound of my voice. 

"I'm sorry, Amber. Detective Ramsey assured us that it would be quick. We'd go in, you identify the criminal, sign some papers, and then we leave. We don't even have to stay there for a day." He said in a soft voice made to comfort me and assure me that everything was going to be alright.

I glanced down at my lap. I pressed a palm against my knuckles to crack them as I thought over the possibilities. They'd all be in jail, so no one could hurt me, and we wouldn't have to stay anywhere that people could potentially break into. I'd be with the police officers the entire time, so they can't get to me.

"Bee?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

I looked up at my older brother. I'd also be with him, and he'd do anything to make me feel safe and comfortable.

"When do we travel?"

•••

The answer to that question was 'in three hours'. I didn't bother packing anything since we'd be there for less than ten hours. Dylan, on the other hand, felt like he had to. So in a small carry-on backpack, he got a change of clothes, a portable charger, and other shit we 'might' need. I just stuffed my phone, earbuds, and my new passport into my sweatpant's pocket.

Since Rose didn't get off work until later, we dropped Antoine over at Nick's. Thankfully, Alexandre didn't have work in Paris, so he was over at Nick's. That meant that Antoine would be safe for the time being.

I didn't want to think about the police station and what could happen, so I spent the flight sleeping, which was easy given I only got four hours of sleep last night. Having Dylan sitting right by me also helped since whenever I slept by him, I didn't get any nightmares.

We took a cab to the police station. I refused to look out the window since I knew that all I'd be able to see would be memories of Adam and me. The atmosphere in the cab was tense. I'd have to face someone who mentally scarred me and broke into my safe space to rob me. All six men's faces were vividly floating around my mind. I've seen them so many times in my dream, it was hard to forget what they looked like.

"Detective Ramsey's going to be waiting for us in front of the station," Dylan broke the silence, looking at the side of my face. I nodded in response, and I heard him release a sigh before he angled his face to look out the window.

I stared down at my phone as I scrolled through my music library, admiring the album cover arts. The only games I had on it were those that would entertain a six-year-old, so I didn't want to play them.

The car took a turn before it slowed down. For the first time throughout the ride, I glanced out the window to find a large, square, brick building with a sign that read the street's name with 'Police Station' under it. I lived a few blocks away from here– I used to live a few blocks away from here.

I could barely make out the detective's silhouette in the dark, but the building was illuminated by some lamp posts, so I knew it was him. Dylan paid the cab driver before nudging me to open the door. I complied and threw the door open before stepping out of the car.

I wrapped my arms around myself when I felt a gust of wind brush across my face. Detective Ramsey hurried over to us when the cab drove off. Dylan outstretched his arm to shake it and I nodded in acknowledgment.

"Thank you for coming," He told me and I replied with a forced smile. "Please, follow me into the station."

Dylan draped his arm across my shoulder and pulled me along with him as he followed the detective. He scanned his badge on a gate, which let him go behind the waiting area. He led us to an elevator and scanned his badge again to enter.

"The detective's unit is on the third floor," He informed us, pressing down on the button that had the number three printed on it. He turned to face us but looked at me. "The suspects are all in the holding cell, but we've got two men that fit the description of one of the suspects. Our facial recognition system couldn't trace him using the security camera footage, so we went off what he looked like."

"I'm going to take you somewhere so you can identify them. You'll be in one room, and the suspects will be in the other room.  There will be a one-way mirror separating you from them– they can't see you but you'll be able to see them." He said as the elevator beeped and the doors opened. Both men gestured for me to exit and they followed after me.

The floor was very open. Desks were scattered across the area, and some detectives were seated on their desks as they worked on whatever cases they had. Others were conversing with each other, a folder open in front of them. One detective was talking to someone who was handcuffed to their desk. She had a notebook open in front of her, and she seemed to be asking him questions that he begrudgingly answered.

Detective Ramsey scanned his badge and opened the gate to enter the floor. I followed behind him, taking in everything in front of me. He walked up to a desk that had a plaque with his name on it. He picked up a folder and skimmed through it before glancing at me.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It wasn't the type of question that was asked as a courtesy. He seemed to genuinely care about whether or not I was ready to face the man.

I nodded, "Yeah," I croaked out. "Let's get this over and done with."

He smiled before glancing behind me at Dylan, "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't enter the room with her." He said, his face falling slightly. "You can sit here on my desk if you'd like."

I turned around to face Dylan, and he nodded understanding before looking down at me. He gripped my shoulders and smiled, "It's going to be fine. You tell them which one of them it was, and we'll get out of here, okay?"

I hummed, my eyes catching sight of what looked to be a jail cell behind him. I quickly glanced away and gave him what I hoped was a brave look before twirling on the heel of my foot. The detective closed the folder and cocked his head to the right.

I followed him into a hallway that had doors left and right. He scanned his badge and there was a beep before the door clicked. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open. With an open palm, he gestured for me to enter the room, where a police officer was already standing.

She smiled at me before glancing at the detective, "Should I bring the suspects in from the holding cell?"

"Yes, please," He replied as he walked forward to the one-way mirror. There was a desk in front of it, and he placed the folder onto it. He opened it and waved me over. "We've got two suspects. A 'John Shepperd' and 'Noah Fisher'. We sent out different squads to arrest all six people, including these two men."

The door in the other room opened, and I could see the police officer who was previously in here ordering both men to enter. Two men, who looked strikingly similar from a distance, entered the room, their hands cuffed behind their backs. The police officer closed the door behind her and stood in the corner of the room.

"Okay, Ms. Amity. Are any of these men part of the group of six that broke into your house a few weeks ago?" He asked.

I glanced away from the folder and looked at the two men who stood opposite me. They were staring at the mirror with expressionless faces. My eyes flickered between the two of them before they fell on one. He was tall, had ginger hair, and had relatively tones biceps that were accentuated by the tight shirt he wore. The only reason I knew that this was him, the man that helped with the robbery, was because I recognized the scar running down his forearm.

The same forearm that picked up the mugs from my coffee table to place it on the floor.

I stared into his eyes, and although I knew he couldn't see me, I still felt scared. I was scared he'd somehow come after me again to do something worse. To scar me even more than he had.

"The one on the left," I told him confidently. "He was one of them."

The detective nodded and he stepped forward to press down on a button. Leaning forward, he spoke into the microphone, "Officer Cameron, can you please escort suspect one into the holding cell? Suspect two is free to go."

The second man's face crumpled with relief while the criminal glared at the officer as she spoke to him. With a final glance towards the window, he walked out of the room, the officer following closely behind him with a tight grip on his arm.

The detective nodded, "Thank you, Ms. Amity. They'll be interviewed now to get a confession." Then he glanced at the man who was still standing in the room. "I'm going to go explain what happened to the man and let him go. Would you like to wait for me or would you like to return to your brother on your own?"

I rubbed my palms against each other, "I'm fine on my own," I mumbled.

"Alright. Please wait for me there, I've got some documents for you to sign and news to share." He said as he opened the door for me. I thanked him before walking back to the detective's desk as he entered the other room.

Dylan was sitting on the detective's seat, his backpack right by his legs. He was typing into his phone, but he looked happy. He was probably texting Rose.

I took a seat on the chair by the side of the desk. As soon as he noticed me, he quickly typed something before pocketing the phone. He turned around in the chair to face me, "How was it?"

I shrugged, "They just made me choose between two men. It was fine."

 "And you?" He followed up. "Are you alright?"

As soon as he asked the question, I felt the dull pain under my chest again. It always became worse whenever I sat down, so I decided to stand back up, ignoring how Dylan furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm okay," I replied as I smoothed out the outfit I was wearing. "The detective had something he wanted to tell us, so he asked us to wait."

He nodded and unlocked his phone to continue texting Rose. I stared at my brother and noticed how long his hair had gotten, something very unlike him. I walked around Dylan to stand behind him. He tilted his head back, but I pushed it forward by his forehead.

"The fuck are you doing?" He asked as I grabbed a strand of hair.

"I'm trying to braid your hair," I replied as I separated the short strand into three sections. Dylan didn't reply and I took that as a sign that I could continue.

"Amber!" A familiar voice yelled. I snapped my head up in the direction of the voice and felt every one of my muscles tense at the sight of Adam behind bars. He was gripping two bars and had his face pressed up against them. "I'm really fucking sorry."

I blinked as I felt my brain go haywire. My palms started sweating, my hands were shaking, and I could feel my face go white. Dylan was also staring at Adam, but I didn't know what his reaction was.

"Amber, I'm so fucking sorry," He said again, looking me dead in the eye. A detective got up from their position to go quiet him down, and I felt frozen, like I couldn't move, even if I tried. "I'm sorry."

Dylan suddenly stood up, his back blocking me from seeing Adam. I wrapped my arms around my body and looked down as Dylan walked towards the holding cell, his figure tense and threatening. Adam backed away at the sight of my brother approaching him. He leaned in so his face was close to the bars, and he whispered something that made Adam pale.

The detective said something that made Dylan nod before turning to walk back to me. His features softened when his eyes fell on my figure, and I suddenly felt tiny compared to my brother as he loomed over me.

"Bee, those fuckers are going to pay for everything they did to you, alright?" He said, and his tone left no room for argument. It was like he would make sure they go the sentence they deserved.

I nodded, "Do you think they're going to confess to the crime?" I asked in a voice lower than a whisper.

He thinned his lips and thought over what I'd just asked. He placed his palms on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye, "If they don't, you can bet your ass I'm hiring the best lawyers to make sure they go to prison. Detective Ramsey said they had enough evidence to get them to confess, though. Hopefully, they'll choose not to complicate this any further."

My gaze flickered to the holding cell behind my brother. I couldn't see Adam anymore, he probably sat back down, but the thought of having him and the five other men in that cell made chills run down my spine.

Dylan squeezed my shoulders, effectively grasping my attention, "They can't hurt you again, Bee. No one's ever going to hurt you again."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist as I tried to keep my tears at bay. I was just on track to feeling like myself again, and then shit like this happened.

But this was Dylan, and Dylan always made sure everything was alright, even if it didn't feel like it was.

•••

– 04/07/20

RESULTS DAY IS AFTER TOMORROW AND I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. (If I don't get the grades I want, I'm quitting life man).

Anywho, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Shit's gonna take a turn the chapter after it.