Page 102 of Lost Girl

But the other half blares for me to flee. There’s no need to rationalize the obvious, not with the way they found Peter.

They. Think. I. Did. It.

As quickly as my legs will allow, I fly my terrified arse down the corridor, then back downstairs with the lift, out the front doors and onto the sidewalk, before looking both ways and crossing the street.

I’m sweating, hands shaking, each step made in trembling fear. Where the hell am I going to go? What am I going to do?

I can't be seen.

Pulling up the hood on the coat, I shield my face as best as possible and start along the concrete back the way I came. I have no family to turn to and what friends I had would never help me now.

The park is my only option. There's bridges I can hide beneath until I figure my life out. Not that I know where to start. I mean, I don't even have much money. Hook gave Tinksley a small pouch to pass along to me. It's in my pocket, but I've not counted how much is in there. A few pounds maybe? It's all pence for sure, no notes.

Fuck.

This is bad. Really bad. I was so frantic and scatterbrained after waking up that I focused solely on finally making my way across the portal. On getting away from Rosewood, thinking that was the answer to my problem. Tinksley was the only person I knew would help me.

And now I wished she hadn't.

With every person who passes me by, I grow more and more paranoid as this new reality sets in deeper. My heart's lodged in my throat, eyes sifting every which way from beneath my hood. They think I'm a killer, that I'm the one who hurt Peter.

The fucking cunt bastard.

That's what he is,was,a cunt, a vile bastard. And here I was, so in love with him, so eager to pick up where we left off, and all along he would only ruin my life.

Tears sting my eyes but I force them down and focus on the task at hand—getting to the park. There isn't time for me to succumb to weak Wendy. I have to be brave Wendy, even if brave is the last thing I want to be when the man who taught me to be brave is probably sitting at home losing his mind.

Because I ran away.

Far away.

What will likely—aside from Peter Pan—be the greatest mistake of my life.

* * *

One-hundred pounds even.

That's what's in the red velvet pouch Hook gifted me. A sweet gesture, but that's not going to get me much except food for the next few days.

Beneath this bridge will just have to do.

It's not like I could get a hotel room anyway. I'm sure my picture's been everywhere just like the dream warned.

Tucking the pouch back into my pocket, I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. It's not too chilly, but the temperature will drop as the night goes on.

This is going to suck. I could be in a nice warm bed, snuggled up with my big, bad wolf, and yet here I am, curled up into concrete, under a park bridge, like some homeless person.

Not even homeless.

Lost.

I didn't belong in Rosewood and I don't belong here, either.

I really am a lost girl now.

Those tears I was holding back? They fall then, in a raging current, a reminder of how royally I’ve fucked everything up. I never should've left, never should've trusted that damned whisper. That thing did nothing but terrorize me in the weeks leading up to the grand finale last night.

Stupid, girl. You stupid, stupid girl.

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