I’m not getting anywhere wallowing in my anger and self-pity. I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing and now.
I glance down at his hands, gently folded over his abdomen. He sleeps as if he’s resting, but I know that’s his body’s way of conserving energy. And if I don’t get him the help he needs, he may not wake up.
I know his fingerprint opens this phone.
But I only tried his thumb, and it was on his left hand. He’s right-handed… could it be… that I need to try another way? He’d be holding his phone with his right hand, which means…
I reach for his hand and lift his thumb, slide his right thumb along the lock pad. The screen flashes to life, and the phone unlocks.
I almost sob in relief. I bring his hand to my lips and kiss each one of his fingers. With shaking fingers of my own, I swipe through the phone.
I could call a friend.
I could call the police.
I only think for seconds, before I pull up the last dialed numbers. I know this is only a burner phone, so there won’t be any contacts saved. I’ll hang up if it isn’t Orlando.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. “Please work,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Jesus, motherfucker, thought you’d never answer my call. Why didn’t you—”
“Orlando?” I interrupt.
There’s a brief pause, then, “Vivia? What the hellare you doing on this phone?”
Tears blur the screen in front of me. “It’s an emergency,” I say on a sob. “Send help, and quickly.” I fill him in as rapidly as I can, though it takes longer between my half-sobs and shaking voice.
“Jesus, alright. Okay, I’m on it. Take a deep breath. You stay right there. If you try anything, Vivia—”
“Send help!” I shout. “If I were going to run, I’d have already done it! Send help now, or he won’t make it!”
“On it.”
I hang up the phone and stare at the screen. I’ve done my duty. Now’s the time I could run. Orlando will take care of Dario, and I—I could just slip away. Just slip out that door and no one will know where I’ve gone or what I did.
I can take this phone and whatever cash I find…
I rifle through his bags until I find a wad of cash. I realize I’m barely wearing any clothes, so I quickly tug on a pair of jeans and shoes. I shove the money in my pocket.
His breath is coming in shallow gasps. I’ll just… give him some water before I go.
I run to where we keep fresh water and a drinking cup and pour him some.
“Drink,” I whisper, but he’s out. I part his lips and dribble the water on them. He doesn’t make a move until I tilt his head back and pour a tiny bit of water into his mouth. He instinctively swallows.
“Good,” I whisper. “Just like that. Good job. Drink more.”
I give him another sip, and he drinks that, too.
“Can you hear me, Dario? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
No response.