I wish I could say the same. Now, I understand all of this. He found her somewhere or was following her. He beat her within an inch of her life until she finally told him what he wanted to know.
What am I going to do? Think, I have to think. I have to run! No, what if he’s already waiting for me? We should call the police and report him. But what happens if he makes bail and comes for me anyway? And he will, I know he will, he’ll find a way. He always told me he would if I ever left him. His parents have the money. They would bail him out in a heartbeat.
And then?
But I can’t leave Thatcher. Not like this. And I’m so tired of running.
But I have to. I have to go. I have to escape. I can’t let him find me.
Because if he does, he won’t stop until he finishes the job.
“I have to go. I’m so sorry. I love you.” She whimpers softly, but lets go of my hand. Somehow, I manage to stay on my feet, lurching from the room and flying down the hall. He knows where I am. He’s going to find me. And there’s nobody who can help; there never has been.
I have to leave now. I have to get my things and go.
I have to leave my best friend. And I told her I’d be there for her. I was ready to stay until she got better, I really was. Right now, all I can do is get out of here before he does to me what he did to her.
Part of me wants to keep going once I’m back in the car. To not go back to the motel. To drive east and not stop until I reach the ocean. But I wouldn’t have anything but the car if I did that. Not even the little bit of clothing I still own. I can’t do that.
It’s not until I’m a mile or so out from the motel that I remember the club. The guys. Dammit, I can’t reach out to them. I don’t even know how. Why didn’t I think to get their numbers? Right, because this was only ever supposed to be a one-time thing. We’re supposed to all go our separate ways after this. And we weren’t supposed to ever meet up again, with or without the prospect of extra money. Dammit, I could have used that money.
Right now, the overriding thought tearing its way through my mind is to run. While I still can.
There aren’t any strange cars in the lot, which gives me a bit of peace as I pull in and screech to a stop in front of my room. I open the door and flip the switch but don’t go inside right away in case he’s waiting. Hiding. Nobody comes jumping out from around a corner, though, so I dart inside and lock the door before flinging the dresser drawers open and gathering everything I can hold. The old duffel bag I used when leaving Adam’s is under the bed. I grab it, open it wide, and dump everything inside. At least it won’t take long before I can go.
I don’t know what hurts more. Leaving Thatcher in this condition or not being able to say goodbye to the guys. I can’t believe they actually matter as much as they do, but they gave me my life in a way. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be able to run like this. Even if I only cross state lines to stay away from Adam but stay close enough to Thatcher that I can check in, it’s better than being here. For all I know, he’s been checking motels all day long, looking for me. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I believe that’s exactly what he would do.
Finally, though, I’m ready. I do one more quick check of the room in case I left anything, but there wasn’t much to pack anyway. I fling the door open, about to run for the car.
Which is my mistake. Normally, I would’ve peeked out from behind the curtain. I would have seen Adam standing in front of the door, waiting for me to come out.
“You’re not easy to find,” he murmurs with a chilling grin.
Then he shoves me into the room and slams the door shut. “We have a lot of things to discuss.”