Lost Hope

Peter's knock on his door came at a quarter past seven, and Chase stood up, even as he saw Justine's eyes widen in fear and panic.

"It's ok," he said, trying to reassure her. "Peter's a friend. You can trust him."

Chase saw the doubts enter her mind, and could almost feel the way her body tensed up. However, she mastered the impulse and nodded, shivering violently as her body protested again. Chase quickly walked to the door and opened it, and saw Peter and Miranda standing on the doorstep, both dressed in casual clothes, yet baring a serious expression. Peter walked in quickly, and saw Justine laying, curled up in the chair with the blankets drawn around her.

Peter knelt down in front of her and looked Justine in the eyes.

"Justine," he said softly. "My name is Peter Lease, and this is my wife: Miranda. I'm a friend of Chase's, and he's asked me to pray with you and ask God to heal you. Is that alright?"

Justine looked over at Chase, the fear fresh in her eyes. Chase gave her a small nod, and after a very long pause, Justine nodded to Peter.

"You need anything?" Miranda asked Peter.

Peter motioned to Miranda and leaned forward, whispering something in her ear so that Chase couldn't hear. She nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

"Chase," she said. "Peter's going to be a while. Why don't you and I go grab some coffee?"

Chase almost protested, wanting to stay near Justine. Then he saw the hesitation that Justine was still displaying clearly and understood. Peter had asked Miranda to get him out of the house so that Justine could be less uncomfortable with the prayer. Once he understood that, Chase agreed and walked out of the door with Miranda.

"It's going to be alright," said Miranda, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Peter's done this a bunch of times before."

"It's not Peter that's got me worried," said Chase, softly.

Justine had proved to be very closed off and ready to retreat and save herself. Granted, she'd been willing to come for him for help, but that didn't change the fact that she likely wouldn't trust Peter, let alone trust God. Still, there was little he could do at this point, so he went with Miranda to the coffee shop a little ways away. Miranda tried talking to him but Chase repeatedly found himself distracted by thoughts of Justine.

Still, he answered what he could, although he kept Justine's past to himself. Chase felt sure–although he couldn't say exactly how–that Justine's adolescence and the life that had brought her to the street was more sacred to her than her drug use and prostitution. Thus, he kept that information to himself, and kept the discussion in the present, answering what he could. Miranda was a very understanding woman, and when Chase didn't think he could stand talking about Justine's condition anymore, she was willing to let him change the subject to her and Peter, and their journey against Lucas Sinclair in greater detail.

"Well, when we first went down the healing conference, Peter was so desperate to find someone who understood what he was going through. He was only recently born again, and when it came to trying to understand his gift he had a furious focus on it. He's always been like that; when something is important to him, he'll chase it tirelessly and relentlessly. You should've seen the first time he met my father. He was all of fourteen and shaking like a leaf, and I still thought Peter was going to take a swing at him."

Chase smiled, trying to picture the scene of a small teenage boy standing up to a large man, who–even though Miranda had not described him physically–Chase imagined having black hair and beady, dark eyes.

"I guess you two went through a lot of stuff together, huh?"

"Most of our lives," she said. "The odd thing is, even though Peter wouldn't change anything about me, and I wouldn't change anything about him; both of our lives are drastically different than I think they would've been if we didn't know each other."

That gave Chase pause for thought. It was an interesting idea, but he wasn't sure how that might work practically. After all, his entire childhood understanding of marriage was full of false promises to change from his father, and a blind acceptance of those lies from his mother.

"Well you two compliment each other nicely. How did you guys know what to do when everything was so crazy. I mean, compared to satanists and angels I suppose that my whole deal seems a bit mundane, but I'm tear my hair out over all this. I want to help her, but I don't even know what that means right now."

Miranda placed her hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye.

"Chase, I understand trusting in God is hard when things are scary. When Peter was working in the military hospital, he worked himself to the bone and I thought he was going to end up working himself straight into a seizure or some life-treating condition. In a way, he did end up seriously injuring himself due to it. I cried nonstop for hours thinking he would be blind and bitter permanently. He's always been strong and stubborn. However, I just spent some time praying over him and asking for God's help and he ended up coming back stronger than ever. Justine needs you, even if she's having trouble accepting that."

"I hope you're right," Chase said softly, taking a long drink from his coffee.

After they'd been there for a little over and hour, Miranda received a text, and looked up at Chase.

"Alright, Peter says we can head back now."

Chase nodded and they made the journey back to his apartment. As Chase ascended the stairs, he would've sworn that his heart rate was double what it should've been, even though everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Peter opened the door when they reached the apartment and waved them in. Chase couldn't help himself and immediately looked around for Justine, and felt a pang of disappointment in seeing her still huddled over in the chair.

He turned to Peter, who had a sorrowful expression on his face, and his eyes were screwed up like he was in physical pain.

"I'm sorry Chase," he said softly. "I did what I could, but she hasn't improved. I'm truly sorry."

Chase forced himself to breathe and had to turn away to wipe at the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It had been so perfect! That would've solved everything, and proved to Justine the existence of God. So why hadn't it been allowed to happen. It was the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity and it had gone by, leaving Justine in pain, and Chase frustrated.

"It's alright," Chase said, unable to avoid the crack in his voice. "I know you did all you could."

He didn't turn to face Peter and Miranda. He wasn't sure that he could in that moment. Logically, he knew that Peter really had done all that he was able to, and so Chase couldn't blame him. Still, Chase wanted to be angry and blame someone, and so his instinct was to blame Peter, who was the only being there accept fault. However, instead of letting his anger get hold of him, Chase took several long moments calming himself down enough to thank Peter civilly. Peter's eyes reflected Chase's sorrow and his regret was so genuine, that Chase couldn't have been angry with him even if he wanted to.

Once Peter and Miranda left, Chase sat down next to Justine, who was shaking violently and smiled weakly at him.

"It's alright Chase," she said, so softly he almost couldn't hear her. "I did this myself. I have to carry myself out. No shortcuts."

Chase did his best to smile despite the pit of disappointment that had been growing within him. He reached down and took Justine's hand in his. He couldn't help but notice how natural that felt. Thin as her fingers were, her hand seemed to fit well in his. It brought him comfort when she merely returned the grip instead of rejecting it or pulling away.

"Why don't you tell me about your work?" she asked, eyes closed.

Chase chuckled a little and looked down at her.

"You really want to hear about my work?"

"I like hearing you talk," she said simply.

Chase was surprised by that and found that he had no real response to it. So, he simply started explaining his work, going over the process of clients and how almost none of them seemed to know what they actually wanted. He explained the process of creation both in drawing and painting. He talked about submissions and revisions. He talked about repeat clients. He talked more than he had ever talked in one sitting. He talked into the afternoon and through lunch. He talked until he went horse. He talked until he felt his lids start to grow heavy. Finally, he talked until he felt himself drift off to sleep sitting up in the chair.

Chase's dreams were harsh, full of shadows and darkness. He found himself being constantly squeezed, as walls and ceilings closed in on him. He couldn't think, couldn't breath, and no matter how hard he ran he never seemed to move anywhere. He felt himself slowly suffocate and when he finally woke up he was drenched in sweat and shaking violently. He sat up, feeling pain in his neck and back as he moved. Everything in him was stiff and rejected the slightest movement.

Trying to help himself loosen up, and send some blood flowing through his sleeping leg, Chase stood and stretched. He did some squats and shook his limbs out. It was a couple minutes before he realized something was wrong.

Chase stopped and looked around his apartment. Nothing stirred or moved and for a long moment he couldn't figure out exactly why that fact bothered him. Then, it clicked in a horrible split-second. Nothing moved.

He glanced at Justine's chair and saw it sat empty with the blanket he'd draped around her thrown over it. Panic set it, causing his breathing to grow rapid and shallow. He sprinted to the bathroom and threw it open to see it was empty. He checked the bedroom and office, both deserted. Fear gripping his heart in a vice-grip, Chase went to the front door.

It was still closed, but the latch that he'd locked now stood open. Justine was gone. It took two full seconds before he could race that that. She was detoxing, things were tough, but happening, and now she was gone. He could only think of one possible reason she would make the effort to leave his apartment in the state she was in. She must be relapsing. How could he have been so stupid as to leave her there unguarded? He might as well have given her the heroin himself.

Cursing himself, Chase ran around as quick as he could and grabbed up his wallet and keys determined to find where Justine could've gone. After all, he knew where her place was… how far could she really have gone from there? As he double-checked his wallet, he noticed something that turned the grip on his inside to ice. His cash was missing.

How could he have been so stupid? Of course she would've taken it. He supposed he was lucky she hadn't ransacked the place beforehand as well. Berating himself, Chase sprinted outside, starting up his car and taking the stairs three at a time.

Chase was determined not to let her fall quite so easily.