EIGHTEEN
Ellie didn't call K. She knew that was the deal. But things were different this time. She needed to get as far as fast as possible. She didn't need a bug-out bag. She was set. Besides, K would have just received her note about having help. That she would keep him posted. That would hold him over for a week before he started to freak out. She wouldn't wait that long to call him. She just needed to find a place.
She got off the bus stop near a sign that said the train station was half a mile to the right. She took off down the unfamiliar street, feeling like she should be breathing easier. But, instead, she felt a weight on her chest.
She tried the method K always used to use to calm her down. The repetition of the plan.
You're going to walk to the train station. Pick a city. Get on a train. Forget about Xander. Pick another city. Get on a train. Go to a library. Search for apartments. Forget about Xander. Find one with a close staircase and a fire escape. This time, check the fire escape to make sure it works properly. Go to the bank. Take money out of the special account. Get the apartment. Settle in. Forget about Xander. Get a P.O Box. Go to the closest book store. Get books and maps on the area. Pour over them until you can redraw them from memory. Walk those streets. Run those streets. Forget about Xander. Get a job that will pay mostly under the table. Sock the money away. Find a martial arts class. Do your weekly check-ins. Stay vigilant. Put extra locks on the doors. Make an extra bug-out bag. Keep it outside of the apartment.
Forget about Xander. Forget about Xander.
ForgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXander.
Ellie fell into the third train, a pounding behind her eyes. She had been traveling for well over eight hours. She was tired, hungry, sad.
She repeated her plan for the twentieth time.
She repeated her forget about Xander mantra for the hundredth time.
She had two more trains. Two more until she could settle down. At least temporarily. She could get a hotel where she could pay cash. No names. No IDs.
Then she could cry until there were no tears left. She could open her chest up and let it out. She could scream into a pillow until the feeling inside was more bearable. Then she would call K and get instructions. She would wipe away the tears, slip back into her armor, numb everything inside, move on. Survive.
But for the first time, surviving didn't feel like enough. Surviving felt like the smallest possible goal she could reach for. Was it good enough to just live? W as it right to base a life on just surviving and staying away from Nick? Was that really any kind of life? Wasn't that just another kind of prison?
She turned her head, staring out the window, watching the world fly by. She had no choice. This was how life had to be. And just because she got a small taste of what life could be like if she could be normal, safe, settled down... that didn't mean it was a viable option for her. She could never stop running. She could never stop worrying that anytime she got close to someone, they could end up killed.
She couldn't have Xander's death on her conscience. She couldn't live with that.
It would be all over. She would have no fight left in her.
--
Hartford was a big city, bigger than she had anticipated when she chose it as her temporary destination. She walked down the streets, feeling like she could take a breath. She could get lost there. For a while, just a week or two at most before picking somewhere further away.
Boston. She had been giving Boston a lot of thought. Another big city. Small towns were problematic. She would be an outsider. Everyone would know she was new. When someone came looking, they could point Nick right in her direction. There was no protection in small towns.
She also comforted herself knowing big cities had major crime. Major organized crime. Like Vin's in New York. Those were 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 and starting problems.
Boston had a variety of organized crime. Dominated, largely, like any other city, with the Italian mafia. They, unfortunately, 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 though. Those were too unpredictable, too loose with their rules. She needed to look around and find somewhere that seemed to have someone in charge. Then she needed to 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. That would give her another small window to get away.
Ellie checked into a motel with what cash she had left. She went inside her room. It was small and square with chipped white paint, and an 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. It was the only kind of food she would have until she got to the next town and got into the account K had set up. That was where he put some spare cash and 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 focus, 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. Maybe the cold air would 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 as her heart flew 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 made 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 are in your head. You need 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. It was far off still, but there, past a long stretch of trees, past a road sign, right behind a traffic light. There was a pitched white roof. There was 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. She knew 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, saw 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 and 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 he 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. She heard it make a sick, cracking sound as it slammed into his face right under his left eye an 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.
The phone fell to the ground, K's voice a wild, animalistic scream. "Ellie! Ellie!"
But then the phone crashed, shattering apart on the concrete next to Ellie's crumpled body.