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“Me, sweetheart. I’m here tonight. There’s always someone on duty.”
“Can I take the room nearest to reception please?” I suddenly feel tiny. As if I’m only six years old again and scared of the big bad world. I just want a grownup to take me under their wing and tell me everything will be okay.
Her face softens as she looks at me. “Sure, you can, darlin’. The one just to the right when you go out of this door is very close. The walls are paper thin in this place. If you holler loud enough, I’ll probably be able to hear you.”
I shoot her a grateful smile and shuffle up to the desk.
“One night or two?” she asks.
“Just the one, please.”
She rings up an amount on the old-fashioned register and holds her hand out. “That will be fifty dollars, darlin’.”
I count out some bills and hand them over to her. She takes them, slots them in the cash drawer, snaps it shut, and then hands me a large key.
It’s one of those old school keys with a big wooden tab on the end of it. I reach out to take it, but she doesn’t let go just yet.
“Look, I don’t want to give you the fear, but lock your door from the inside, okay?” She smiles softly at me. “No need to worry unnecessarily, because I’m here. It can just get a little rough round here at nights, is all.”
She releases the key to my care.
Great. I’m really beginning to regret my recklessness in the way I ran away. But then I think back to the claustrophobic halls of that big old gothic building, stalked by three men who both terrorize and adore me. It’s as if I’m their fallen goddess. Someone they want to worship, but torment. I can’t deal with being that.
I’m not a figurehead for them to work out their angst on. I’m barely functioning myself.
It had been worth staying previously for my mother, of course, but now I can’t trust her either. I literally have no one in the world. The loneliness almost rips my stomach to shreds.
I haven’t eaten much, but I have very little appetite. I do need to make sure I don’t let my blood sugar level get too low. After such a serious seizure, I can’t risk another one so soon. Tick that off as number two on the list of reasons it was crazy for me to run.
“Thank you.” I wave the key at the woman behind the counter, and she gives me a little wiggle of her painted nails in return.
I dash to the car and grab my bigger bag. Then I lock the vehicle and race back across the forecourt to open my room door and slip inside. I turn the lights on, needing to banish the darkness and the shadows that lurk within it. I lock the door carefully and check it twice. Satisfied that I’m secure in my tiny hovel, I haul my bigger bag to the bed and throw it down on the top of the mattress.
I unzip it and rifle through the contents. There are some yoga pants I can sleep in tonight, and a t-shirt, and a few bottles of water and snacks. I take those out, and make myself eat something, even though my stomach is churning, and then swallow my meds.
I really don’t feel well, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m only just out of the hospital after one of the worst seizures I’ve had in years, or if it’s the unbelievable amount of stress that is zapping around my body. Surely, stress levels this high could kill a person. If I die, I will come back from the grave and sue Dom, Tino, and Kirill for their part in my death. Or perhaps I’ll just haunt them instead.
I’ll certainly haunt my mother and Nataniele. I spend a pleasant few minutes letting myself indulge in a fantasy of haunting the stuffy dean of the college as he strolls about the long, dark corridors. Perhaps I’ll run around in front of him so all he can hear is the quiet pitter-patter of my feet. Or maybe I will make my face slowly appear from one of the portraits, a ghoulish reminder of the girl whose life he helped ruin. I bet in a lot of ways it’s fun to be a ghost.
I bet in a lot of ways it’s fun to be able to disappear. Slowly fading away until there’s nothing left, no more worries, no more pain, just nice, empty nothing.
I shake myself. This isn’t me, and I will not give in to an epic pity party. Instead, I will call my friend. Right now, there is nothing I need more than a friendly voice. Using the burner phone, I dial the number I know by heart and wait nervously for her answer.
“Hello?”
She sounds cautious, probably expecting a spam call since she won’t recognize this number. The familiarity of her voice hits me deep in my soul. For a moment, I struggle to speak.
“Lola, it’s me.”
There’s a long pause, and then a scream so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“Mackenzie, is that really you?”
I laughed in relief, but it turns into a sob at the end. I try to bite back the pathetic sound, embarrassed I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It’s so incredible to speak to a familiar, uncomplicated, and friendly voice.
“Are you okay?” Lola asks. “What the hell happened? Where are you?”
She pauses, and I am still struggling to speak.
