My mind was only getting worse as time progressed. I was upset that I was thinking so much about Lucifer but there was no way to stop it. Ever since the first dream I’d had about him, I’ve been unable to stop my imagination from conjuring up images of he and I together and me touching myself to the thoughts.
Today was rough, it was my dad’s birthday and I wanted so bad to contact him. To tell him how much I loved and missed him and didn’t really want to leave him. To tell him everything that had happened that led me up to where I am and how sorry I was to abandon him. I never wanted him to be hurt by any of this, but that was just another loose end that I needed to tie up so that I wouldn’t be caught. If there were a way I could fathom that I could still have him around and not compromise myself, I would. I paced around my house feeling more and more horrible for what I did to my father. When I couldn’t take it anymore I scooped up my keys and headed to the car.
I hopped on the highway and drove about two hours out. I found what looked like a cozy town and drove aimlessly until I found an intimate diner. I checked for any cameras, and there didn’t appear to be any security systems in sight. I ordered a burger and fries and waited a decent amount of time before asking to use a phone. When the waitress eyed me curiously I held up the cell phone I turned off and told her it died. Assuming that was a good enough explanation, she led me back behind the counter to use the store phone.
When she disappeared, I picked up the phone with trembling hands. I began punching in the numbers to my dad’s cell phone line praying that he would answer and somehow wishing he wouldn’t. The phone rang four times and just as I thought it was going to click to voicemail I heard noise filter into the line.
“Hello?” my father’s voice came through the line and I gasped.
It wasn’t until I heard his voice did I truly realize exactly how much I’d missed him. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say… do I just apologize? Do I explain what happened?
“Hello…?” My father said again questioningly. I was still having an internal war just trying to get words to come out… anything. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Abee, is that you?” he asked.
A strangled cry escaped my throat in response. “Princess, where are you? I’ve been so worried about you. Please tell me where you are so I can help you!” He urged and I could hear the desperation heavy in his voice.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him know it was me; I couldn’t let him get the confirmation and possibly get caught in the middle of this. So instead of answering, I hung up the phone. I paid for my food and practically ran to my car. The door wasn’t even fully shut before the first sob escaped me. I sat in my car and cried until I was out of tears. I was too wound up to drive so I had no choice but to let the sorrow take over. I prayed I hadn’t made the wrong choice but I just needed something, and he deserved the same. I was too exhausted to make the two-hour drive, so instead I went to a motel close by.
I fell into a deep sleep because the next thing I knew I was being woken up by the sound of ringing. I opened my eyes slowly and it took me a while to remember where I was. I frowned, unfamiliar with the ringing sound and I scanned the room slowly. They finally landed on the phone and I sighed. Maybe I’d overstayed for the time I paid for and they’re looking for more cash.
I picked up the phone. “Hello?”
The phone was completely silent and I removed it from my ear to make sure that it was plugged in. When I figured everything was ok with the phone I tried again. “Hello?”
A growl answered me on the other end of the phone and they hung up, but not before I could hear the sound of an engine. Almost instantaneously I could feel sweat begin to pool underneath my arm pits and on my forehead. I wasted no time grabbing my stuff and running out of there as fast as possible to my car. I drove 80 when the limit was 65, checking all my mirrors the entire way for any sign of a motorcycle. I had to stop once for gas and made sure to pay with cash and I chose a seedy looking gas station that was least likely to have a trace of me. By the time I made it home my heart was practically beating out of my chest. Needless to say, sleep never found me that night. Every creek and groan had me stirring restlessly in bed.
I reached out to James the next day asking if I could come crash with him for a couple of nights. I was too afraid to stay in my place by myself. Besides, if that was Lucifer and not me losing my mind then he may possibly know where I live. If I could avoid being there I could most likely avoid him altogether. Even though I was pretty sure if he had my number then he’d have showed himself. It’s not like the man is scared of me or anything.
I stayed with James for 5 days under the guise that I was extremely fatigued and just wanted to make sure I had an extra hand around. When I didn’t see or hear anything else, I assumed it was safe to head back home. Hiding out at James’ wouldn’t really do me much good but prolong the inevitable. If he were here for me he’d find a way to get his hands on me.
The first few days back were rough. My paranoia has reached an all-time high and really not knowing is worse than anything else. I felt like an absolute psychopath sitting here scared for my life but not totally sure if there was even a reason to be. It was driving me mad.
It took about two weeks before things resembled normalcy. I decided not to let any of the drama consume me; if I did it would defeat the point in me leaving. The hot and cold – scared and comfortable – it was causing havoc in my life and on my sanity. I decided to live each day as it comes and if a threat emerges I will handle it then. I can’t continue to look over my shoulder afraid that the boogeyman is lurking in the shadows waiting to spring.
That only lasted a week before another phone call came to my cell. This time however, it wasn’t an empty line. I remember the words clear as day. “Abee, you have to leave.” She hung up not waiting for any response. This was Nettie’s second warning, and this time she’d called me. I never gave her my phone number.