“Get up. It’s time for your phone call.”
I stumble as I try to walk and rub my eyes in an attempt to make my vision less blurry. As I follow the tall man down the dark hallway, I am surrounded by the sound of loud snoring, and the cold is radiating from the metal bars that kept Miami’s criminals confined to their jail cells.
Jail cells?!
The last thing I remember, I was on my way to visit my mother. She is very ill and loves to have company, and since she will be alone while everyone is at the wedding tomorrow, I decided to pay her a visit.
The wedding! How could I forget? Here I am in prison while my soon to be wife is preparing for the biggest day of her life! I know Clara will never forgive me for leaving her at the altar, even if it’s through no fault of my own. But she doesn’t even know where I am. I barely know where I am!
“Let’s go! Over here!” the guard grumbles. “Here’s the phone. You’ve got five minutes.”
I rush over and grab the phone, but my fingers are trembling so much that I can’t punch in Clara’s cell number. What am I going to tell her? That I’m in jail and can’t remember why? Finally, I calm down enough to dial the number for my mom’s house, but it just rings and rings and rings. I check to make sure the guard isn’t looking as I quickly hang up and begin to dial Clara’s number.
When she answers, I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to say.
“Hello? Hello, anybody there?”
“Clara? It’s...It’s m-me, it’s John.” I manage.
“John? Where are you?”
“I...I...I think I’m in jail. But I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Jail! What happened?”
“I don’t know, I just woke up here.”
“Okay don’t worry, I’m on my way.”
As soon as I hang up, the guard orders me back to my cell, where I find it impossible to sleep. A musty smell hangs in the air and my only company is an old wooden bench. I try, unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable way to sit, but all I can really focus on is trying to recollect the events that have lead me to be here.
I guess I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake the guard is looking, actually glaring, at me.
“What do you want?” he growls.
“M..my name is John Edward. My...Clara...my fianceé...she was supposed to be here. Do you know…do you know what happened to her?”
Just then, as I turn my head to the right end of the hallway, I see Clara emerging from a room in tears.
“CLARA!” I yell frantically, desperate to get her attention. I shake the metal bars that have kept me confined in this rotten cell, in hopes that she might notice and turn to look at me.
“Let’s go. The detectives are waiting for you in there.”
He roughly yanks me off of the floor, shoving me towards the door.
