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Chapter 21 by Onlysorta Onlysorta

Does the detective pick up?

Jane answers the call.

“Ugh… uhn, hello?” Came a groggy woman's voice through my tinny phone speakers. "Detective Garland speaking."

I almost fell backwards with relief, this was definitely her. And if she got here in time, that meant I was safe from mom's wrath. “Oh, h-hi! W-we met outside 'The Apline' restaurant last night with my mom. My n-name is Lucas Lovely.”

Her voice came through less sleepy-sounding this time, as she breathed out a sigh that must've started at her core. “Oh, thank goodness I’ve got a name to your face. So it's "Lovely", huh? Kinda like the MMA fighter 'Christina Lovely'?”

“Yeah, just like her, she’s my mom.” I said, leaning into a small alcove to dodge the other students between class.

I had to hold the phone away from my earring as Jane's voice boomed in shock, “Wait— what!? You mom is the Christina Lovely?”

“Yeah, that’s her… why? Was she actually that famous?” I asked, not getting how anyone could be excited to hear her name. But hey, combat sports were kind of a gal thing anyway, so it's not like I ever kept track of that kind of stuff anyway.

A silence almost as loud as the static came over the phone, followed by the awkward words of the massive detective, “Umm… let’s just say that if I knew who she was, I never would’ve tried to instigate her.”

“Ohh, yeah, I’m s-sorry about that. You looked like you got really hurt-- Are... are you okay right now?”

“Hahaha, you were worried about me, eh? Thankfully, I’m fine, more or less. She just left a nice bruise behind.” Jane paused for a second after reassuring me, and got real quiet as she asked, “So... Christina hits you like that too, doesn’t she?”

I started tearing up, feeling my hands shake when I told her. “Yeah… she does. Almost every day, and, and I... I hate it! I hate her! She's a monster, and she won't stop hurting me!”

From there I couldn't stop more teardrops rolling down my cheeks as I just started sobbing in my little alcove. Every time my mother puched, slapped, or yelled at me returned as a bad memory welling up in my eyes, and made my makeup run in salty rivulets. I slid down against the wall until I was quietly crying with my thighs touching the cold tile, not even paying mind to the girls that might be able to see the bulge in my panties as I found myself lost in emotion over the phone.

Detective Jane was calm and patient on the other line, and the only sound she made in response to my outburst was a kind reassurance. “It's gonna be alright Lucas. Just give me a meet up spot, and we can go from there. You'll be safe with me.”

In spite of her being one of those big, strong women, she sounded almost like she was stifling a sniffle herself. Feeling safer than I had in days, I wiped away my running makeup, and told the lady on the line, "O-okay, Jane, and thanks for not hanging up... m-my school is at 787 North Dorothy Dr..."

What happens when the good detective arrives to pick him up?

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