Chapter Five

Addie

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

I’m going to puke. Oh my god! He put all my information out there! Everything! I take the deep blue-black hair dye out of the bag and put it on the dingy table of the place I’d rented. My hands are shaking.

Oh my god.

My life is over. Everyone in the world is going to have seen naked pictures of me online by morning!

Oh my god!

My mom and dad are going to be so disappointed.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I read the directions on the hair dye and follow them carefully. Before I’d left Las Vegas, I’d withdrawn the limit on the emergency credit card Dad had given me.

I feel bad for it, but I was going to call him. As it is, my cell phone is in pieces, battery removed, on the nightstand table.

Oh my god. I knew I shouldn’t have let him take those pictures!

In the bathroom, I bunch my hair up at the base of my neck and squeeze my eyes closed in sadness for a moment. I love my long, thick hair with its hint of a curl that’s so heavy it only curls at the ends. But self-preservation wins out before I can lose my nerve.

I cut through the mass and look in the mirror. It’s crooked, longer on the right, shorter on the left like some lopsided bob. I hate it. It’s too harsh for my face.

Picking up the hair dye, I start at the roots like it says. I soak my head, careful to keep it off my skin and hoping the color isn’t too loud. It’s black—I guess I hoped going polar opposite might make me less conspicuous. Now I wish I’d gone with a natural brown or something quieter.

I let it sit and realize I’m alone with my thoughts and a ticking watch for twenty-five minutes until I can shower and rinse it all out.

He posted naked pictures of me online.

Said I attacked him.

Told everyone to call the cops on me.

My life is fucking over.

Tomorrow, I’ll drop off the truck on a random corner. It’ll get impounded and Dad will have to pick it up. I’ll pay him back. But I need to go underground. And that truck is like a beacon of my presence.

Arlo gave my personal information to the world.

On the bathroom floor with my scalp tingling and my nose stinging with the sharp scent of dye, I bring my legs to my chest and carefully put my forehead on my knees.

Tears roll down my cheeks and dot my pants.

The whole world has seen me naked. I’ve no secrets anymore, no privacy, nothing. Not even a safe place to go or a caring ear to listen. Because I’m sure as fuck not reaching out to anyone.

Not even Mom and Dad.

Especially not Mom and Dad.

My chest aches and I wonder if this is what it feels like to die. I have nothing and no one. And it’s all because of Arlo.

Because I slapped him.

No. Not because I slapped him. Because he’s a bad man. I’ll take responsibility for my part in this; I shouldn’t have slapped him. I shouldn’t have let him take naked photos of me.

But he’s responsible for sharing those—and the rest of my information—with the world. He made that choice. I didn’t make him do it.

Despite feeling weak and broken, I get to my feet and run the shower as the alarm sounds. When the water is hot, I climb in and begin to rinse my hair.

The water runs cold in minutes, and I shiver as it goes icy in an instant. But I keep scrubbing my hair as my tears try to warm my skin. I shampoo with the little bottle the motel so thoughtfully provided. At first I’m certain it’s not enough; then I realize I’ve got less than half as much hair as I had before. The thought aches deep in my soul.

I’ll have to move tomorrow. The clerk here saw me. Maybe he won’t have placed me, by some small miracle, but he will figure it out. I have to find another place that’ll give me a room without an ID.

Arlo has reduced me to a criminal who has to lie and cheat to find a safe place to sleep.

When my hair finally stops running dark water, I’m satisfied it’s clean of the dye. I get out of the shower, naked and shivering, and wrap up in the thin, scratchy towel the place provides. I rub dry until my aching skin stings, trying to bring back feeling and rid myself of the full coat of goose bumps I’m wearing.

I look in the mirror and see someone else. A stranger in my place. Perfect.

So why am I still crying?

Because of the betrayal?

Or because I don’t want to lose who I am because someone else is trying to destroy me? Meeting my green eyes in the mirror, I try to find the good. That’s what Daddy taught me. Try to find the good in everything, even the bad.

This is rock bottom, but I’m trying.

The black makes my eyes look greener, my face sharper. With some dark lipstick and leather, I could pass for a dominatrix.

A laugh bursts from my lips at the thought.

I’ve never even had sex. Arlo kept pushing, but something in me told me not to. And I’m glad now that I didn’t. But part of me wonders if that’s the reason he was so cruel. As evil of a guy as he is, he’s not a rapist. Thank god for small favors.

I sober up quickly as the gravity of the situation presses down on my shoulders. Even though I’m pretty sure I can’t sleep, I decide I should try. I’m on an almost twenty-hour stretch without sleep, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die if I don’t rest.

I fall face-first in the bed and gator roll in the scratchy sheets. It occurs to me that they’re likely dirty, and I consider sleeping in the bathtub instead, but I can’t move.

Now that my body is still, it’s over. Sleep is coming and I can’t fight it.

Before the world fades out, I see the man. The tall one with broad shoulders and navy eyes. The one that I saw in the elevator, then in the store. Is he following me? I doubt it. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Doesn’t matter; I’ll never see him again.

Just like that, the world blinks out.