-Carrie POV-
Carrie sat on the window seal in the living room of the apartment wearing one of Big's hoodies and boxer-briefs, staring blankly into the night as the rain tapped the window. The streetlights dimmed the room. Three days, still no word from Big - he stormed out a few nights ago after a phone call. He did not say who it was or what it was about. He just left. No matter how many calls or messages Carrie left there was no answer. He even called Big's parents in hopes of catching him, but nothing. No one knows where he left. No one has answers. She pulled her knees to her chest letting out a sigh as she rested her head on them. "He's okay. He's okay," she whispered to herself, trying to comfort the harmful thoughts in her head.
She turned her head to look outside once more. She looked down to the street, empty. No cars in sight. "Big, where are you?" sobbing lightly as her mind wondered to every possible scenario of why he left. She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell. However, for the past three days that is all she did. She does not have the strength to do it again. Anger fills the void. She knows there is a reason. She wants to know why. Nevertheless, she knows it is something huge. Big would not leave like that just for nothing – not anymore. He has changed.
She got up from the window. Staring blankly was not soothing her anxieties. She sat on the couch facing the window. She grabbed a pillow and held on to it as her breath shortens. "Just be safe. Just give me a sign. Just one. Please be okay," she muttered to herself. She looked up at the ceiling. "What could be so urgent that he just leave like that?!" tightening her grip on the pillow. "No. Not tonight. Just as long as he's okay. Then kill him later," letting out as sigh as she rolled her head around as she tried to massage her neck. Her mind continued to wonder trying not to be angry trying to be positive, wanting to hurt him, wanting to love him. She slid into a comfortable fetal potion on the couch, soon passing out.
-BIG POV-
Big parked his car in the garage beneath the apartment complex. He waited. He knew what awaited him. Anger and confrontation. He pulled out his phone. 36 miss calls, 28 voice mails, 137 text messages, 15 Facebook messages, and 12 emails. He only had to read the first text to know what was about to happen. He laid his head on the head rest. He could feel his heart beat in his head. "I have to tell her," he sighed. He got out of the car and walked up the two flights of stairs to his apartment looking as his feet fidgeting with the keys the whole way up. He quietly walked into the apartment. He did not want to wake Carrie.
He heard movement and instantly froze. He searched for the source, finding her on the couch fast asleep. "She looks tired. It's all my fault," whispered softly. He walked over to the couch sitting beside Carrie. He bushed her face with the back of his hand. He could not help but notice that she was wearing his favorite hoodie. He knew his absence would devastate her but he had no choice. Not for his line of work. He leaned over the couch adjacent to the one Carrie laid on and pulled off a small blanket to cover her. Unfortunately, as he pulled the blanket he did not realize there was a book on it.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"