Page 222 of Deviant

“What kind of help? Do you need us to call the reception desk—”

“No!” I say a bit too loudly when she takes a phone out of her pocket. “I mean no, thank you. In fact, I was hoping that you could help me out with a personal matter. You see, I’m staying here in room,” I quickly do a quick scan of the long corridor before continuing, “three hundred and fifty-six to hide from my stalkerish ex but I fear he tracked me down and knows I’m staying here.”

“Oh no,” the sweet one says sympathetically.

“How do you know that he found you?” the more skeptical one questions.

“I saw the limo that he drives for work parked just outside,” I reply, hoping that I’m right.

“He got a parking space in this city just to stalk you?”

It’s obvious the suspicious one thinks I’m full of bullshit, and when she says that she’s going to check it out for herself, I’m not the least bit surprised.

Damn it.

Maybe I should have said something else. I should have put more thought into my excuse, but at the time I thought the truth—albeit a little changed—was my best shot.

“Exes are the worst. I had one that would come to my place of work just to embarrass me and beg me to come back to him,” the sweet one says, as we wait for her friend.

I start biting my nails, anxiety getting the best of me as my new friend goes on and on about horror stories involving psychotic exes. I half expect her suspicious friend to return with security, but when she finally reappears, she looks angry on my behalf instead.

“You were right, hun. The bastard is out there parked in his limo eyeing the front door.”

Damn it.

I guess I should listen to my gut more often.

“What do you need?” she asks, more sympathetically this time.

“Well, I can’t stay here now but I also don’t want to leave through the main door, if he’s watching it.”

“We can help you with that. You can leave through the hotel staff’s exit behind the building. Come, we’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my eyes tearing up at their kindness. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“We women have to look out for each other. There are a lot of bad men out there. Men who get their kicks terrorizing those they see as weak and vulnerable.”

“Don’t I know it,” I mutter under my breath as I trail behind them downstairs to the backway exit.

“Good luck and stay safe,” both women say in unison as they wave goodbye.

I thank them again, then put my hoodie over my head and run out of there. It’s only after I’ve ran a few blocks that I hail a cab, asking the driver to take me to the train station. I’m so on edge looking behind us to see if we’re being followed that I don’t even register the lights of the Big Apple.

This is the first time I’ve ever been in a town or city that isn’t Blackwater Falls, and yet, instead of enjoying this bout of freedom, I still feel my town’s claws clinging to my skin, its merciless grip unwavering.

After arriving at Grand Central, I pay the taxi driver and sprint toward the first ticket line I see.

“Where too, Miss?”

“That all depends. What’s the next train out of the city?” I ask the clerk.

“That would be the six o’clock train to Boston. It leaves in about five minutes. You’re going to have to make a run for it though.”

“Nothing new there,” I retort handing him my money and snatching the ticket from his hand.

Boston isn’t very far from New York, but it will have to do, for now. At least it has an airport. I’ll figure out where I’ll go after I get out of this city. It might be paranoia plaguing my mind, but I don’t trust that I’m completely out of the woods yet. I’ve seen too much and have done too much not to be wary, especially just as I think I’m coming to the finish line.

It’s only after the train pulls out of the train station that I can finally breathe.

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