Authors: Jessica Gadziala
She
also comforted herself knowing big cities had major crime. Major
organized crime. Like Vin's in New York. People Nick wouldn't want to
mess with, no matter how powerful he may have been back in Jersey. No
one wanted some jackoff from another state stepping on their turf.
Starting problems.
Boston
had a variety of organized crime. Dominated, largely, like any other
city, with the Italian mafia. Who didn't pose a huge threat to Nick.
She wished, in a twisted, awful kind of way that the Irish still ran
things. Nick wouldn't screw with them.
She
sighed. She would get an apartment in a crappy area. Somewhere that
looked like it had a strong presence. Not just street gangs. Who were
too unpredictable. Too loose with their rules. She needed to look
around and find somewhere that seemed to have someone in charge. Move
as close to him (or her) as possible.
Nick
charging into someone's backyard would be noticed. Trying to drag her
out of there would cause a huge scene. Someone would feel the need to
get their boss. And Nick would have to answer for her before he could
take her. Giving her another small window to get away.
Ellie
checked into a motel with what cash she had left. She went inside her
room. Small, square. Chipped white paint. A ancient-looking blue
floral comforter was on the bed. She shrugged out of her suitcase,
opening it and pulling out the small plastic bag. A sealed mattress
cover. She stripped the bed, throwing all the sheets into a far
corner, touching them with just the tips of her fingers. She lifted
and zipped the mattress into the cover, sitting down on the cool,
plastic material and looking around for a moment. She kicked off her
shoes, curled up on her side, and cried.
She
woke up the next morning, the light slanting through the blinds,
making her swollen eyes hurt like a hangover. With a sigh, she got
out of the bed and went to her bag, pulling out a protein bar. The
only kind of food she would have until she got to the next town. Got
into the account K had set up. Where he put some spare cash. Where he
put the money she saved and sent him. It would be enough. Or close to
enough to get her through the first month. Which was always the
worst. The studying. The research. The job hunt.
She
took a quick shower, wearing a pair of flip-flops she had had the
foresight to cram into the bag and started to set up the burner phone
she had packed. It wouldn't do any good to put it off. She was only
going to wallow in her misery. A part of her hoped, knew, that
hearing his voice would ground her. Get her focused. Give her a more
concrete schedule.
The
battery clicked into the back and she started to type his number.
Hadn't he said in his last note something about an early summer? Was
his plan to send her south? Where she wouldn't stick out? California,
maybe? Maybe that would be better than Boston.
She
typed in the rest of the digits, grabbing her room key, tucking the
baton into her jacket, and went outside. The room smelled musty, old.
And she needed fresh air. To clear her head. The cold to maybe shock
her out of her weird stupor.
“E,”
K's voice said, sounding urgent and relieved. “Jesus Christ.
You missed two check-ins...”
“I
know,” Ellie broke in, feeling guilty. Like she needed to feel
any worse. “I'm sorry... I...”
“Tried
to stay in the city. I know,” he said, his voice calmer. “I
met the P.I.”
“Xander?”
Ellie asked, wincing at the desperation in her voice. “How?
Why?”
“When
I didn't hear from you, I went to the city. Went to your
apartment...”
“You
didn't,” Ellie said, walking into the front lawn of the motel,
looking out at the street. “That was so dangerous, K. What
if...”
“You
missed two check-ins,” he said, his tone suggesting that
explained everything. “Anyway... the PI strode in, yelling for
you. He's a mess,” K said, his voice almost sounding amused.
“You slept with him, didn't you?”
“K...”
Ellie said, her voice holding warning.
“I'm
not judging,” K said. “We all need human connection
sometimes. But he's pretty freaked out. I told him I would call once
I heard from you. Let him know you're safe.”
“That's
nice of you,” Ellie said, looking down at her feet.
“Nice
had nothing to do with it,” K laughed. “The man was in
pieces. He needed to know. I don't blame him. I was worried sick.
Where did you end up?”
“I'm
in Hartford,” she said, watching the cars rushing past, feeling
anxious.
“Connecticut?”
K asked, sounding confused. “Why the hell would you stop
there?”
“I
dunno... I was thinking maybe Boston...”
“That
would have been a good choice,” a voice said behind her.
Ellie
felt her stomach drop, her heart flying into her chest. No. No way.
She turned, knowing who she was going to find. Knowing, but needing
the clarification.
“E,”
K's voice said, sounding concerned. “Was that someone else?
What is going on?”
“He's
here,” she said, watching Nick's lips quirk up in a cold smile.
The fierceness in his eyes making bile rise up in her throat. He had
never gotten so close without her knowing. He was so fucking close.
“Run,”
K's scream filled her ear, startling her out of her numbness. She
sucked in her breath, and ran, K's voice pressed up against her ear,
her other hand reaching for the baton.
“He's
here. He's here. And I don't know the streets,” she cried, her
voice shaking.
“Don't
talk. Save your breath,” K's voice said, trying to sound calm,
but she heard the fear behind it. “Just run. Run for the most
public area you can find. People. You need to find people. Especially
men. Throw a fit. Scream. Tell them he's your rapist. Your abuser.
Tell them how bad he is. Beg for help. Someone will step up. Someone
always steps up and does the right thing,” he said, knowing
that wasn't always the case. Knowing there were plenty of people who
would bow their heads. But it was her best chance.
“You're
never going to get away from me,” Nick yelled from behind her,
sounding like he was gaining. Which he probably was. He was taller.
Longer limbed. Her short little legs needed to push twice as hard to
get half as far. She didn't turn. She knew the last thing she needed
to do was see his face again. See the determination. See the
intention.
“Don't
listen to him,” K broke in, calm. Reassuring. “Listen to
me. Listen. You're going to get away. You always get away. Because
you're smarter than him. Because you have trained for this. Breathe,
Ellie,” he said, and she felt her name wash over her like a
warm bath. He had never called her by her name before.
“Just
give up now, Eleanor,” Nick's voice called, clear. Not winded.
Effortless.
“You're
not giving up. Not ever. Tell me where you are,” he demanded,
knowing that he could never make it in time even if he needed to.
“Highway,”
she huffed, looking around in desperation. What had she been thinking
when she ran? She ran the wrong way. She ran toward the street, not
the town. And there was nothing. Just the road. Just the road and the
cars flying past her, making wind slam into her. And Nick right on
her tail.
“Okay.
Run faster. I know your legs feel wobbly and your chest is burning.
But that is in your head. It's all in your head. Push past it.”
Push
past it. That's what he used to say when they trained. When he had
her in some god-awful restraint and she wanted to scream in pain.
Push past it. It's all in your head. Your body can withstand more
than you could ever comprehend. The limitations were in your head.
You needed to push past them. Find that place beyond your pain,
beyond your self-doubt, and throw yourself into that blissful
emptiness.
Ellie
sucked in air, ignoring the screaming in her thighs as she threw her
legs out faster, taking longer strides, covering more ground with
each extension.
“The
highway, yeah, right around from there,” she heard Nick saying,
sounding a bit out of breath. She reveled in that fact as she felt
her own breathing loosen up. It didn't bother her that he was calling
for back-up. That Bobby would probably be showing up.
Because
she was going to get away. She had to just keep going. There had to
be an establishment eventually. A gas station. A convenience store.
Something.
“Good
girl,” K's voice said. “Keep going. I'm right here. Don't
give up.”
She
saw it then. Far off still, but there. Past a long stretch of trees.
Past a road sign. Right behind a traffic light. A pitched white
roof. A building. “There's a building,” she mumbled to K,
urging her feet to go faster. Saying a silent prayer that whatever it
was, it was occupied. That it was open. That there would be people
around.
“You're
only making this worse for yourself,” Nick's voice warned
behind her.
She
wanted to look back. She wanted to see him gasping for air. She
wanted to see his face in a grimace because his legs were hurting.
She wanted to see him sweating.
But
she kept her eyes ahead. On her target. Watching it get closer.
Convincing herself she could make it. Knowing she could. She had
outrun him in the past. More than once. She could do it again. She
had to do it again.
“Breathe,”
K said, his voice cool, calm. Keeping her with him. Pushing her.
“You're almost there. You can make it.”
A
minute later, she was breaking into the parking lot. It was a small,
squat liquor store with a giant wooden sign out front with a strange,
leering leprechaun underneath the words Lucky Spirits. Ellie scaled
up a slight hill of grass, jumping off the top, taking off toward the
parking lot. It was open. She could see the lights on. Cars were in
the lot. There was an elderly couple walking inside.
She
felt the fear settling in then. She needed people. “There isn't
anyone outside,” she said into the receiver.
“Then
run inside,” K said, sounding a little more worked up than
usual. “Barrel into that front door and scream like fucking
murder. Go. You're almost safe. Keep going.”
Then,
like a beautiful miracle, three men came out of the store, one
pushing a shopping cart loaded down with beer. They were in their
thirties, fit, attractive. Dressed like there was a game on somewhere
that they were going to watch together.
She
could barely make out the numbers on their shirts, but she was
screaming. At the top of her lungs. Begging for help. She's being
chased. Help her.
All
three of them looked up at her, frozen for a second, taking it in.
Figuring it out. But when they saw her, a man right behind her, they
started forward, one of them reaching for his phone, quickly dialing
and putting the phone to his ear.
Her
saviors.
But
then there was Bobby, hopping out of a car, taking out the one in the
lead, slamming a bat into his back. Ellie watched as he crumbled to
the ground, groaning, holding his back.
“No,”
she gasped, watching things around her like a horror movie. Feeling
oddly detached. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Then
there was someone else. Coming out of a car. Making a grab for the
second guy, throwing a fist right toward the good samaritan's nose.
He yelled out, falling to his knees, clutching his face. And then the
man kicked outward, sending the man spiraling and turned.
Jason.
From the bus station. He sent her an evil smile, saluting her, before
turning to the third man.
“No,”
she said again, coming to a stop next to a car.
“What
the fuck is going on?” K shouted in her ear. “Ellie
please. Talk to me. Ellie!”
There
was no way she was getting away. She knew that with a certainty that
sent a cold chill down her body. She was done. She was done running.
She was done waking up with nightmares. Because her life was going to
be
a nightmare. She was going to be taken back to Nick's.
The
realization made her turn to the sound of Nick's footsteps behind
her. She took a breath. Knowing it was only going to hurt her in the
long run. She would pay for it. Dreadfully. But she didn't care. She
was beyond caring. She was beyond reason. She was beyond
self-preservation. She was beyond hoping for survival.
In
a strange, detached, hopeful way... she wished for death.
She
spread her legs, cocking her arm back. He was still running at her.
Good. It would hurt more. Just when he was close enough, she swung
with every ounce of power in her body. She watched as the baton made
contact. Made a sick, cracking sound as it slammed into his face.
Under his left eye. Across the bridge of his nose.
His
hands flew up. He screamed.
But
he recovered quickly. And he looked up at her, smiling wickedly. And
she knew it for what it was. A promise. She was going to pay.
“K,”
she said, desperately. She needed to get it out before he got her.
“K, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you...”
And
then the phone was falling as she felt a pain, sharp and crushing
toward the back of her head. And she knew nothing but blackness.