Bringing the palm of her trembling hand to her mouth, the phone slipped from Faith's other hand onto the floor as she let out the loudest, longest scream that she possibly could. She didn't even care if she disturbed any of the neighbors, because now she could at least be upset without having to hide it out of fear of upsetting Rowan, with his fake tears and likely faked panic attacks. Faith only wished hers were just as fake right now.
She didn't know how long she sat there on that couch, tormented by all of this information that was coming at her faster than she could comprehend it. Whether it had been an hour or even just ten minutes, she knew she couldn't waste any more time in making a decision, as difficult as it would be trying to come up with a good solution in such a short amount of time.
If she told them what she knew, Sheena might think twice before messing with Aaron, but Sherm would still try to get the few good officers left at the police station involved, and if Aaron connected the dots he would know Faith was the one that told them. But if she sat back and didn't say anything, Sherm and even Sheena could get themselves killed, and it would be her fault for not warning them.
Maybe if she played her cards right and chose her responses carefully enough, she could hit that magic number between 'blissfully ignorant' and 'cautious with a touch of paranoia'. Sherm was her main concern right now, so she would try to get ahold of him first. Faith decided that she would pretend to know little to nothing about Aaron, while still strongly encouraging him to call the entire thing off. Given the fact her boyfriend had just left her, and the fact Sherm already knew she'd been fearing something like this for a long time, there was actually a possibility that she could use it to all of their advantages.
Faith would tell him and Sheena enough about tonight's incident with Rowan to make them think about their own decisions in general, but not panic. She was tempted to just call them instead of write out a message, but if they (especially Sherm) heard her voice right now, they would know just how upset she really was and probably come running to her doorstep; if it could be helped, she wanted as few people in this house as possible under the circumstances. After typing and re-typing her response to Sherm, she was finally somewhat satisfied with what she would ultimately send him:
"Sherman, I won't sugarcoat this. I need you to not do this and just keep yourself safe. Rowan walked out on me, and apparently never loved me to begin with. I can't say I trust anyone right now, but I know I'm still not ready to lose another person close to me. Sometimes being heroic isn't worth it, and I learned that the hard way tonight. Please, don't do it. You don't know who this person could actually be that you're investigating and what you're up against, just like how I never knew who Rowan truly was until it was too late. If you won't do it for me, do it for yourself--and for Violet, because I know she wouldn't want anything to happen to you. And please don't come over, I'll be fine--I just need some time to myself after everything that's happened."
Maybe this was a temporary solution, but she hoped she could get both her friends to just drop their idea altogether--and that Sheena hadn't let it slip to Sherm that Faith had made a deal with Aaron. From the beginning, Sheena had known enough to know that Aaron didn't advertise his money-lending services up front, but she'd seemed to believe that the secrecy associated with it was for customer privacy and nothing more. If this didn't go exactly as Faith needed it to, she wasn't sure how else any good could come of this situation, as even if Sheena hired an actual private investigator, her life and that of whoever she hired could still be in danger.
As she'd done with Sherm, Faith would have to once again feign ignorance about a lot of things, especially where Aaron was concerned. Just because Sheena said Aaron had been distant with her, didn't mean he might not still somehow see the text Faith was sending her:
"Sheena, I don't know much about Aaron, but that's the problem--neither of us really do. And I just think it should stay that way. I found out too much about Rowan, things I wish I didn't, and tonight he left me. Maybe I'm just overreacting, but please listen to me, just in case. Don't end up like Rowan and I did. Aaron seems like a nice guy, especially when I've seen him with you, but if you're concerned he's not being loyal even after talking it out, then I'd suggest just leaving him and not sending anybody after him or getting other people involved. I'm just saying this from my own experience. You can't always trust people."
Faith wondered if her responses to her friends sounded narcissistic on some level, as though she was trying to take what Sheena saw as a potential heartbreak and what Sherm saw as a chance to help someone and make it all about herself and her problems. But, she reminded herself, it didn't matter how she sounded in those texts, as long as everyone came out of this alive. She didn't even need them to take her seriously--just for them to humor her and do what she was asking them to.
She may have had to play dumb to a gross degree and leave a lot of things out of what she'd texted to them, but she hadn't feigned her paranoia in the slightest. As careful as she'd been with her words, at least given the fact she was short on time in figuring out what to say and how to say it, she knew there could still be a cinderblock with her name on it if the wrong person read those messages. Both Sherm and Sheena were likely going to ask her to elaborate on her own predicament, but for now she hoped they would listen first and maybe ask questions later. Preferably much later, as in once she had gotten Aaron paid off. Either way, she had done all she could do for them at the moment.
As much as she wanted to continue to put it off, Faith knew what was next: the missing report. She wouldn't be getting any rest any time soon anyway, between looking for that lost gun afterward and trying to reconnect with her family.
She supposed it was a good thing that she didn't live in a state where she would have to wait a full 24 hours to report Rowan missing, as she didn't like the thought of having to wait an entire day for him to possibly reappear after what he had put her through. A part of her still hoped he would be caught, and get whatever professional help he needed but hadn't been getting, as long as she no longer had to be associated with him.
However, she did have a sudden thought as she picked up her phone from the floor to begin dialing: She'd never actually gotten the chance to check Rowan's room or the rest of the house. He could still be inside the house for all she knew, although the chances of that were slim. She recalled the suitcase Rowan had mentioned right before he made that tea--the suitcase he placed in front of her to prove he hadn't left yet--and it was now nowhere to be seen. Faith wanted to continue searching for that gun so she would have it handy while she checked the house, but on the other hand, the longer she waited to make that report, the more suspicious the police might be of her.
Hoping that she wasn't bringing a knife (albeit the largest and sharpest one she could find from her kitchen) to a potential gun fight if anyone or anything was waiting for her, she decided to settle for second best for now. Clutching the blade's handle, she ventured toward the hallway and flicked on the hall light. She would start with Rowan's room, in an attempt to get the worst out of the way first.
Faith wanted to believe she was ready for whatever awaited her after she'd hastily flung the door open and turned the bedroom light switch on...but she wasn't. She may not have gone into his room that often in recent months, mostly due to Rowan's increased secretiveness and her own reluctance to see whatever he might have been hiding, but all she saw in front of her now was almost worse than the assortment of things she had imagined might be inside this room. The emptiness that surrounded her made her feel as if she was no longer inside her own home. It was almost like being inside that room in Spencer's house all over again, and she hated it. But still, she pressed on.
Despite what Keith had said, she still wanted to be ready if a policeman or two did get sent to her house after making that phone call, so she would try to keep things as she'd found them as much as possible. Readying her knife, she peered under the bed next, but there was no Rowan hiding there, or anyone or anything else...just more empty space. Everything appeared to be gone from the room, except for an unmade bed, a dresser, a nightstand with the reading lamp still on top, and the box fan that he'd always liked to have on even when it was bitter cold outside.
Despite the emptiness of the room itself, the closet did contain his old painting easel, as well as some paintings and drawings in general. She remembered back when he'd taken up painting as an outlet for his anxiety and depression, even before they moved in together; if these paintings were recent, they definitely hadn't gotten any less disturbing, many of them making Picasso's Guernica look like a page out of a children's book. She used to be intrigued by that type of art, but not anymore--not when it so harshly visualized how someone she had once cared about--and admittedly still did to a degree--must have felt inside.
Quickly looking away, the only other things she spotted in the closet were some clothes on hangers that he must have left behind--mostly clothes that she had picked out for him and spent her money on--along with some other paint supplies, so she wouldn't bother to investigate this room any further. She supposed that if the most questionable items she'd found so far were a few paintings and untouched clothes, she should be relieved, though it didn't change her eagerness to clear out this room as soon as possible. Once she'd gone through any legal red tape she needed to, everything was coming out of here--one way or the other. Just as long as all of it was away from her and her house.
Moving on to the bathroom next, she noticed that the only toothbrush and toothpaste remaining was hers, though at least nothing popped out at her when she checked behind the shower curtain, as she'd been half expecting to happen given the way her night had been going.
Her own room and the spare room also yielded no signs of Rowan, his medication no longer in the kitchen cabinets either. She was truly alone in this house.
The missing report had actually gone better than Faith had anticipated, though not much different than how Rowan and Keith had said it would. The man on the other end of the phone had sounded patient and understanding, but she could tell he wasn't very concerned, as he didn't send anyone to investigate the house, even after she told the officer that Rowan fell under the "endangered adult" category. If anything, maybe the officer was just sympathetic that Faith had the misfortune of crossing paths with Rowan to begin with.
The most nerve-wracking part of the call had been when she was asked if Rowan habitually consumed drugs or alcohol; the closest thing to potential physical proof she really had of that was her symptoms following the tea he'd made her and what was left of the mug's contents, but Rowan's threat to her that she would be arrested if she told them too much ultimately discouraged her from mentioning it. That was why it was such a relief to her that no one came to investigate after ending the call; a professional might catch something that she'd missed, despite how well Rowan seemed to have covered his tracks. If Rowan was going down, she had no interest in being dragged down with him. While she had done her best to not sound suspicious, she did make sure to let the officer she spoke with know that while she was concerned and wanted Rowan safe, she didn't want him to return to her place of residence, and have minimal to no contact with him if or when he was found.
While it was a slight relief to have finally finished that call, she knew the authorities could be contacting her for more information later if Rowan's case did end up looking remotely interesting to them. But for now, she was off the hook where the police were concerned.
Further putting off her next phone call, she resumed the search for her .38 special, which had originally been given to her by her dad for her eighteenth birthday. She once again scoured the coffee table as well as the inside of her purse, to no avail. Turning to the couch, she couldn't think of a logical way that gun could have made it there the way her phone had, as she last remembered Rowan sitting it on the coffee table and neither of them picking it back up after that, but she would nonetheless search there next. She shuddered, realizing there was a small chance that loaded gun could have been hiding among those cushions when she was looking for her phone earlier.
Slowly and carefully removing the couch's two pillows and three cushions, she used a flashlight and thoroughly checked inside and even under the couch...again to no avail. Rowan stole it...didn't he?
At this point, Faith was too exhausted to care as much as she probably should. All she really wanted right now was some semblance of her old life back. She missed it all, so much--her parents' reassuring words and advice when she couldn't figure something out on her own, her aunt and uncle always including her on fun family trips, her cousin Bethany's carefree humor, all of it. Of course her cousin had a nosy streak, and her parents were far from perfect at times, but they never would have done to her what Rowan's parents had done to him and his siblings.
Still, she had to sternly remind herself that her family may not want to talk to her at all, and even if they did, it wasn't as though she could just spill everything to them either. Since she was having to routinely omit certain details of her situation from others now, she had narrowed it down to two key details they couldn't know: one, that she owed money to an illegitimate lender now, and two, that she'd carelessly and stupidly lost her gun to Rowan of all people, or at least that was how it was beginning to seem. Both of her poor parents already had high blood pressure as it was, and she didn't want to cause any more problems for them than she and Rowan already had. Just getting to talk to them and maybe even visit them would be enough.
Faith took a deep breath as she began to dial the phone number her parents had had for most of her life, hoping that they hadn't changed numbers or addresses.
When the ringing stopped, her heart stopped with it for a moment as she heard a familiar voice on the other end answering: "Hello...?"
"Don't hang up, Mom. It's Faith," she said quickly.
Faith waited a few seconds, but there was only a suffocating silence.
"Rowan's gone--he left. Listen, I know I have no right to ask, but...can we talk?" she continued, her voice lowering to a near whisper.
Finally, her mom uttered, "Hold on a minute." In the background, she heard her mom practically screaming, "Mark! Mark, get in here! It's Faith, she's on the phone!"
Faith cringed. Her mom was still just as dramatic as she remembered, but...in a way, it was comforting. Maybe some things didn't change so easily.
"Faith? Is that really you?" Faith noticed that her dad was trying and failing to hide the shakiness in his voice, once he'd joined her mom on the other end of the phone. Were they actually...happy that she'd called them?
"Yeah...it is. You guys got your wish, at long last. Rowan's gone and I really don't think he's coming back. I've made the missing report and everything. I get it now. You both were right about him."
"Whoa, whoa, you're going too fast here," her mom interjected. "It sounds like a lot's happened recently."
"Uh, yeah, I think this is something we should talk about in person...don't you think?" her dad asked, the last three words of his sentence carrying those gentle, fatherly undertones that she recognized from before there was ever a Rowan or a Spencer in their lives.
"That would be nice, yes," Faith answered. "That's actually what I was trying to ask Mom, but she got too excited and..." She trailed off, once again trying to keep from crying. She couldn't believe they were finally speaking again. "L--look, I'll see you guys in half an hour, okay?"
"Okay," her dad answered softly.
"Bring a suitcase if you need to," her mom chimed in.
"Oh... Do you mean that? I can just stay the night, just like that?"
"Faith, what are you talking about? We have a lot of catching up to do!" her mom exclaimed.
"Well, in that case...I think I might do that. Just with everything that's happened, I really don't think I'm ready to sleep in this empty house."
"Well hurry up then, and come see us," her mom urged, also sounding as if she was fighting back tears while trying to keep up her usual whimsical demeanor.
"Drive safe," her dad added. "We love you..."
"I will. I love you too." She stared down at the phone screen as she used her thumb to press the 'end' symbol, forgetting all about the remaining money she owed and her missing gun for the moment.
Faith had gotten her parents back, as well as her old life...at least for a short while.
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