Authors: Victoria Wakefield
I spent the rest
of Saturday in bed. Maryanne didn’t come home at all, which was just as well.
What was I going to say to her, anyway?
Michael dumped me because I told him
I’m half human, half dark angel. Oh, and by the way the man you’re sleeping
with almost raped me at summer camp but I’m just now getting around to telling
you.
She’d probably kick me out, too.
My life was over.
Damon had won. Michael wanted nothing to do with me. So it was back to plan A.
Run away, start over.
Maybe I should turn myself in to Magnus.
After
all, I was already in Hell.
Since I couldn’t
force myself to physically move, I spent all day composing the emails in my
head – the ones I would send to Michael and Maryanne. I might just tell
Maryanne the truth. I wouldn’t be around to see her disbelief, to hear her
biting words.
My only worry was
if Damon would hurt her when I left. No, it was me he was after. MA was just a
distraction, a
good fuck
as he had so eloquently put it. He would
probably try and hunt me down again, but this time he would have no leads. I’d
have to change my name, of course, but I could figure all of that out further down
the road.
I would ask my
parents for a loan – say I had some unexpected school expenses –
and cash the check, withdrawal all of the money from my bank account and close
it.
Even though I had
the basics worked out, there was still a lot of planning to do. I’d have to
pretend I was going away with Damon, make him think that I had feelings for
him, at least until I could figure out where exactly to
go
. I shuddered,
not sure how I would pull that off without physically touching him.
I studied the
beautiful pearl ring Michael had given me last night, willing myself not to
cry. I had to stay distracted and work out the specifics of my plan. I briefly
considered mailing the earrings and ring back to him.
No, he gave you
those; they’re yours now. And besides, you might have to sell them at some
point.
I pulled myself
out of bed and dumped out the contents of my backpack. The red lingerie –
Michaels’ first gift – caught my eye. I shoved it under the bed.
I spent the next couple
of hours packing everything I was planning to take with me. A few changes of
clothes, tennis shoes and flip-flops. I would grab the other necessities, like
my toothbrush and soap, right before I left.
There was no point
in going to classes next week. I would tell Damon that I needed a few days to
get ready to leave. And as long as I could act normal enough, I wouldn’t have
to let Maryanne know that Michael and I were over.
Then I would
disappear, without a trace.
###
I knew that Damon
would be in touch with me on Sunday, although I wasn’t sure how he was going to
do it since Maryanne had spent the entire weekend with him.
Around noon, he
texted.
Meet me at the coffee shop next to campus in an hour.
I quickly
texted back that I’d be there.
I arrived ten
minutes early and grabbed a booth in the back. Damon got there shortly after
me.
Before he could
say anything, I told him, “It’s done.”
“Good.” Damon
nodded, looking pleased.
“Where’s
Maryanne?” I asked.
“She’s at my
apartment. I said I had to go grocery shopping.” He rolled his eyes. “She begged
to go with me, until I told her that I wanted the romantic dinner I’m cooking
to be a surprise.”
Damon leaned in.
“I wish I was cooking it for you, though. Not to be mean about your friend, but
Maryanne is so obsessive.”
I would have
laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. How could Damon even begin to label
MA as obsessive, after what he was doing to
me
?
But I had to
play along. “I hope you let her down gently,” I said. “You know, I don’t think
it’s a good idea to tell her that we’re going to be together. It will hurt her
less if you just break it off and then leave.”
Damon’s eyes lit
up. “Wow, Lana, you really did just need time to come around. I wasn’t sure if you
were going to agree to go away with me.”
What other
choice did you give me?
“Yes, I realize
now that you’re the one for me.” I almost choked on the words.
Fuck, I hope
I sound convincing.
But any hesitation
or disgust I had was lost on Damon. “What did you tell your boyfriend? Or
should I say, ex-boyfriend?” he asked grinning.
“Let’s not talk
about him.” I waved my hand flippantly. “This is about
us.
”
Damon nodded. “How
long do you need? We’ll have to go quietly. Maybe mid-week?”
“Mid-week sounds
fantastic.” I gulped. That meant I needed to leave by Tuesday at the latest. It
was surreal, knowing that in merely two days time I would be gone for good.
Never to see Maryanne again. Never to see Michael. And with any luck, never to
see Damon, either.
Damon looked
relieved that I had so easily agreed. “I’d better go,” he said reluctantly. “I
still have to shop for this romantic dinner tonight.” He paused. “I hope you
know that she means nothing to me.
You’re
the only woman who has ever
had my heart. Who ever
will
have my heart.”
I nodded
vigorously. “I know,” I agreed. He was delusional. Completely delusional.
We got up to
leave. Damon put his arm around me as we were walking out. I forced myself not
to recoil under his touch. When we got to my car, I tried to get in right away,
to mumble that we would finalize our plans later, but Damon pulled me to him
and kissed me.
I immediately felt
the same panic I’d had as a fifteen-year-old girl, that I was being forced to
do something I didn’t want to do. I pulled back, laughing nervously.
“You didn’t have a
problem with Michael kissing you in public.” Damon scowled.
“I can’t wait to
kiss you!” I said with fake enthusiasm. “But we’re right by the school. We have
to keep our relationship a secret. You wouldn’t want someone to tell Maryanne,
would you?”
“Okay,” Damon said
reluctantly. “In a few days time, we’ll be together –
forever
.”
Agreeing that I
couldn’t wait, I got into my car and sped back to my dormitory. As soon as I
was inside, I started rummaging for mouthwash. There was none. I felt gross,
dirty. Then I remembered seeing some little airplane bottles of vodka in the
fridge. I had no idea where they came from or why Maryanne had them, but they
would do the trick. I downed two, picturing the fiery liquid killing all of
Damon’s disgusting germs.
Even though it was
just a small amount of alcohol, it hit me hard. I had been running on empty for
nearly two days now, too sick to eat, functioning off of pure adrenaline alone.
I lied down on my bed, closed my eyes, and was out like a light.
When I woke up
later that evening, Maryanne still wasn’t home. She finally came through the
door long after I had crawled into bed. It was probably eleven, maybe midnight.
I pretended to be asleep, even though I was wide-awake.
“Lana!” Maryanne
hissed. She sounded tipsy. I ignored her.
“Lana,” she said
again.
Stifling a groan,
I opened my eyes. “What’s up?”
“Sorry to wake
you,” she said apologetically. “But I just have to know, what’s going on with
you and Michael?” she blurted out.
That had my
attention. I sat upright in bed. “Why?” I asked, without answering her
question.
“Damon was going
to cook a romantic dinner, but we decided to go out for drinks first. We were
about to leave and then I noticed Michael at the bar. And, I don’t know how to
tell you this, but he wasn’t alone.”
“We broke up,” I
said. There was no point in denying it now. Although how could he have already
moved on?
“Oh my God!” MA
exclaimed. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’ve been busy
and I haven’t wanted to talk about it,” I said. “And besides, it just happened
yesterday.”
“Oh, Lana, I’m so
sorry,” Maryanne said apologetically. She knew just how hard I had fallen for
Michael Reynolds. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe tomorrow.
I’m exhausted,” I lied. “So who was he there with?” I couldn’t help asking, a
sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Some blond bimbo.
Really long hair. I could tell she was flirting with him, but I’m not sure if
he was that into her.”
“Abigail,” I said
morosely. “That sounds like her.”
“That’s what I was
afraid of. I, um, got a pic with my phone if you want to see.”
“Yes, I need to
know.” Maryanne handed me her phone. I could see the side of the girl’s face,
and it was definitely Abigail. “That’s her,” I confirmed. Michael’s head was
turned so that I couldn’t quite see his expression. Had he invited her out?
Would he really hook back up with her, one day after our breakup?
“I feel sick.” I
hadn’t really meant to say the words aloud. Maryanne leaned down and hugged me.
“Is there anything
I can do?” she asked.
“Not unless you
have a time machine handy,” I muttered.
I lied back down
on my bed and prepared for a fitful, sleepless night.
Monday went by in
a blur. I pretended to leave the dorm for my first class, but as soon as I knew
Maryanne was gone I went back home. Even though I didn’t want to, I forced
myself to draft the letters to MA and Michael.
I ditched my
original plan to email them and decided to print the letters and post them
right before I left town. I didn’t want them to be read before I was gone, and
I couldn’t risk the possibility of an email being traced to my new location.
In then end, I
didn’t say anything about my half human state to either of them. Now that my
head was a little clearer, I knew it would be too dangerous to put that down in
writing. To Maryanne, I blamed my departure on Michael and stressed how much
our friendship had meant to me.
Michael’s letter was
a little more complicated, but it was from the heart. I told him that I had
never loved anyone the way I loved him, and that I never would again. I
apologized for ruining his life, and said that maybe someday he would believe
that I could never lie to him.
It was impossible
not to cry while I wrote the letters. I let myself go, surrendering to the
misery and heartache, vowing that after this tear-fest I would buck up and get
my shit together so that I could leave tomorrow without a trace.
I called Evie at
the hospital and told her I was sick and wouldn’t be in for my shift. That was
one person I sure wouldn’t miss.
I couldn’t arouse any
suspicions before I left. My parents had transferred two grand into my account,
but the maximum withdrawal per day was one thousand, which meant I’d have to
take the last of it out Tuesday before I skipped town.
My plan was to
head west, far away from my parents and even farther from this hellhole. I
didn’t know where my final stopping place would be – I might just keep
moving, indefinitely. Why not? There was nothing for me now, not here, not
anywhere. I could travel around, doing odd jobs like waiting tables, and when I
got sick of it, I’d leave for the next destination.
I’d never let
anyone in again – that much was for certain.
Maryanne was home
Monday evening, and somehow her presence was comforting. I could tell she was
still worried about me, although her official reason for not staying with Damon
was that he distracted her from getting her homework done. Total bullshit, considering
she didn’t even crack a book that evening.
By Monday night I
was feeling surprisingly calm.
Last night in my bed.
I expected to toss
and turn, but instead I slept like a baby. Maybe it was all of the stress and
exhaustion finally catching up with me, maybe I was secretly relieved that for
the first time in my life I’d be truly free. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
###
Tuesday. D-day.
Damon was supposed to call me to finalize plans, so I had to leave town before
he realized I was going without him. I waited impatiently for Maryanne to get
ready for class. She was taking forever! And of course, I had to pretend that I
was getting ready, too.
“Are you okay,
Lana?” she asked while she was applying her makeup. “I know it’s still fresh,
but whatever happened with you and Michael – well, it might make you feel
better to get it off your chest.”
“Maybe tonight,
over wine,” I said noncommittally.
Maryanne hugged me
before she left. “I’m really worried about you,” she said.
I hugged her back
tightly, acutely aware that this was the last time I would ever see Maryanne. I
tried to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I’ll be okay,” I
assured her, tears brimming in my eyes.
Interpreting my
display of emotion as the results of my fragile mental state, she said, “I’ll
get wine for a girls’ night. Whatever you want to do tonight. We can bitch
about men, watch a movie, stuff our faces with pizza or Chinese food…” Her
voice trailed off.
“Thanks for
everything,” I said sincerely.
Maryanne gave me a
funny look. “You don’t have to thank me.”
I nodded, afraid that
if I spoke I would start crying.
No more tears. Tears are for weak people.
I
had to be strong to pull this off.
Once Maryanne was
out the door I sprung into action, taking one last inventory of everything that
was mine in our dorm room. I was tempted to pack more stuff in the duffel bag
I’d used when moving here, but it would look weird if I left the building with
my life’s belongings on my shoulder. And besides, what the fuck did I really
need to survive? Not the mounds of clothes I’d bought to impress Michael.
Confident that I
had everything I wanted to take with me, I grabbed my backpack and headed out
the door. I had just gotten outside when my phone rang. I jumped at the
familiar sound.
Calm down.
I had to get my nerves under control.
Half expecting it
to be my mother again, I rifled through my purse and pulled out my phone. It
was Maryanne. I couldn’t talk to her. I’d already said my goodbyes; before I
could second-guess myself I clicked decline on the call.
It’s for the
best,
I rationalized.
The letter will give her a reason to understand
why I left.
I had just reached
my car when my phone rang again.
What the fuck?
Maryanne’s smiling face
was once again on my display. She was supposed to be in class. What if
something was wrong?
I told myself not
to think about it. Her life was her own responsibility now.
But when my phone
rang for a third time as I was just starting my car, I couldn’t pretend that
everything was okay, that she was simply calling to chat. Something horrible
must have happened. What if Maryanne had been in an awful accident and someone
was using her phone to get in touch with her best friend, with
me
?
“Hello?” I said,
my heart racing.
At first I
couldn’t tell if it was Maryanne on the other end. All I could hear was the
screaming and sobbing.
“Hello? Who is
this?” I kept repeating helplessly.
Finally I made out
some of the words between the garbled, hysterical crying. “He’s dead!” Maryanne
was repeating it over and over, like a mantra.
“Please!” I said
helplessly. “Maryanne, please, I can’t understand you. What’s happened? Where
are you?”
“It’s Damon,” she
sobbed. “He’s dead.”