Signed To Live, the weak woman.

ANDREA The phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out slowly. The screen says unknown number. My thumb hovers over the button. A part of me already knows who it is. The same way you know rain is coming before the first drop falls. I am standing behind the nurse's station. The clock says 3:47. My shift ends in thirteen minutes. My feet ache inside my white shoes. My lower back feels tight from bending over patients all day. I answer the call. "Hello?" "Andrea." His voice slides through the phone like oil. Smooth. Slick. Wrong. "There she is. My favorite sister." I close my eyes. Tyler. My stepbrother. The boy who pushed me down the stairs when I was twelve. The man who runs with people who hurt other people. "Hello, Tyler." "I need money." He does not ask. He never asks. "Twenty thousand." My hand trembles. I press the phone tighter against my ear. "I do not have twenty thousand dollars." "Come on, Andrea. You work in a hospital. You must have met someone with deep pockets." I look down at my scrubs. A small coffee stain on the chest. "I clean bedpans, Tyler. I take blood pressure. I empty trash cans." My voice is soft. Tired. "I do not have that kind of money." "Then find it." "My rent is due. And Mom's nursing home—" "I do not care about Mom." I swallow. "Tyler, please—" "One week, Andrea." The line goes dead. I lower the phone. Forty-seven seconds. That is all it took. Mrs. Patterson walks past. Gray hair in a tight bun. "You look pale, West," she says. "Have you eaten?" "Yes, ma'am," I lie. She studies my face. "You are lying." I say nothing. She sighs. "Go home and rest. You look like you are about to fall over." "I will." She walks away. I finish my shift. The bus is late. I stand at the stop with an old man and a young mother holding a sleeping baby. The old man coughs. The baby stirs but does not wake. The mother looks at me. "Long day?" I nod. "Long week." "I know how that feels." She shifts the baby to her other hip. "I work doubles. Three jobs. My husband left last year." I say nothing. Just nod again. She looks at the sky. Gray and tired. "Sometimes being alone is harder than being broke." I look down at my shoes. "Yes," I whisper. When the bus comes, I climb the steps and swipe my card. The machine beeps. Low balance. The driver looks at me. "You need to add money." "Tomorrow," I say. "Tomorrow," he repeats. He closes the door. I find a seat by the window. The glass is cool against my forehead. The bus moves through the city. Nice neighborhoods first. Green grass. Clean sidewalks. Then the neighborhoods change. The grass turns brown. The sidewalks crack. The buildings grow older. My stop comes. I step off. The walk to my apartment takes five minutes. My building stands at the end of the block. Four stories. Brick the color of dirt. A broken step at the front door. A light in the hallway that flickers. I put my key in the lock. Turn it. Push the door open. The hallway smells like old food. Someone left a trash bag by the stairs. I step around it. And then I stop. The air feels different. Heavier. My skin prickles. I look down at the floor. There is a puddle near the stairs. I step over it. When I look up, I see them. Four men. They stand in a loose circle around me. Big shoulders. Hard faces. One wears a leather jacket. Another has a scar from his ear to his jaw. My heart pounds. I can feel it in my throat. I try to speak. My voice comes out small. "Can I help you?" The man with the scar raises one finger to his lips. "Shhh," he says. He lifts his shirt. A gun sits in his waistband. Black metal. Small. I freeze. I have seen what bullets do. I work in a hospital. I do not make a sound. "Are you Andrea?" he asks. His voice is quiet. "Tyler's sister?" I cannot speak. My mouth is dry. The second man looks at the first. "Look at her eyes. That is fear. That is her." The first man nods. "Get her in the van." "Please," I whisper. "I have not seen Tyler in months. I do not know where he is." "Save your breath." A hand grabs my arm. Fingers press into my skin. Another hand covers my mouth. I taste salt and leather. They push me toward the back door. A minibus waits. Dark windows. Engine running. I try to pull away. My feet slip on the wet ground. But they are too strong. The door slides open. They push me inside. Darkness. The smell of cigarettes. Something rough wraps around my eyes. A blindfold. Tied tight. The door slides shut. "Drive," someone says. The van moves. My body sways with the turns. Left. Right. Right again. I do not know how long we drive. Minutes. Hours. I cannot tell. Cold wakes me. Cold on my cheeks. Cold on my arms. I open my eyes. A single light bulb hangs above me. Yellow light. Flickering. A warehouse. Big and empty. Dust floats in the air. I try to move. My wrists are tied behind my back. Rope. Thick and scratchy. My ankles are tied too. Wrapped around a metal pipe. My lip stings. I touch it with my tongue. Blood. I do not remember when someone hit me. Footsteps echo on concrete. The man with the scar walks into the light. He crouches in front of me. His face is close. His eyes are brown. Sad and angry. "Where is Tyler?" he asks. I shake my head. My hair falls across my face. "I do not know," I whisper. He slaps me. My head turns. My cheek burns. "I do not know," I say again. My voice shakes. I keep my eyes down. "He owes us money," the man says. "He stabbed my brother." I say nothing. My hands tremble behind my back. "Antonio. My little brother. Tyler put a knife in his belly. He is in a hospital. He might die." I look at the floor. Tears fill my eyes. "So if Antonio dies," the man says, "someone has to pay." He stands up. Looks down at me. "You are going to help us find Tyler. Or you are going to die here." I keep my head down. My voice is barely a whisper. "I do not know where he is." "Then you stay here until you remember." I say nothing else. My body shakes. My wrists hurt from the rope. The man stares at me. Then he turns and walks away. The light bulb flickers. I sit alone in the dark, tied to a pipe, bleeding from my lip. I think of my mother. Sleeping in her nursing home bed. She does not know I am missing. I close my eyes and pray for strength. Not for rescue. Just to survive. The light bulb flickers again. I hear footsteps. More than one set. The scarred man returns. Another man follows. This one is older. Gray hair. Cold eyes. "She still says she does not know," the scarred man says. The older man looks at me. His eyes move over my face. My tied wrists. My bleeding lip. "Everyone knows something," he says. His voice is like ice. "I do not," I whisper. He crouches down. His face is inches from mine. "Antonio died ten minutes ago," he says. "My son is dead. And your brother killed him." My blood turns cold. My stomach drops. "I am sorry," I say. The words come out broken. "Sorry does not bring him back." He stands up. He looks at the scarred man. "No one leaves this warehouse until we have Tyler. Not even her." He walks away. The scarred man looks at me. For a second, something soft passes over his face. Then it is gone. "You heard him," he says. "No one leaves." He turns and follows the older man into the shadows. The light bulb flickers. I sit alone in the dark. Antonio is dead. Victor is the older man's son. And they will never let me go.