Page 69 of Past Due

Staggered, I took a step back. “What?”

“Rina’s things. Take them off! Now!”

I glanced around the driveway and at the security cameras watching us. “Can I come inside? Please?”

“No! Besian doesn’t want to see you.”

I couldn’t believe he would let anyone treat me like this. Even if he was furious at me, even if he believed I had cheated, he wasn’t cruel, but I didn’t dare argue with Drita. Whatever goodwill and acceptance I had earned earlier in the day was gone now. If she could have shot laser beams from her eyes, Drita would have zapped me to dust right there.

Shaking and humiliated, I took off the jewelry and handed it over to her. I handed over the shoes next and crouched down by my suitcase to unzip and open it. I grabbed the first things I touched—a pair of jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s image. Trembling in the chilly night, I decided RBG would never have allowed anyone to treat her like this.

You’re not Ruth Bader Ginsberg. You’re just jumped-up trailer trash.

Eyes downcast, I hopped into the jeans and hastily peeled out of the black dress now stained with blood. The cold night air hit my bare breasts, and my nipples ached as they pebbled. I quickly jerked the shirt over my head and prayed the video was too grainy for anyone to see me half naked.

Drita snatched the dress from my hand. “Anything else?”

I started to shake my head but then I remembered the credit card and money Besian had given me. Refusing to take anything from him, I grabbed the clutch and took out my phone. I handed the clutch to Drita, and she searched it.

When she pulled out the cash and card, she sneered at me like I was lower than dog shit on her the bottom of her shoe. She sneered ugly words at me and stormed back into the house with all of Rina’s things, leaving me alone in the dark.

Cold and scared, I found a pair of socks and my hiking boots. I quickly put them on my throbbing feet and then slipped into my jacket. After I secured my luggage, I hefted my backpack into place. I didn’t know what else to do so I started walking. I didn’t know the address, and I worried that if I lingered and waited for a cab Drita might come out and chase me off with a broom—or worse.

I didn’t even bother holding back the tears anymore. I let them fall. My sobs came in waves as I walked toward the gate. The two guards standing there seemed shocked by the sight of me, trudging along in the dark with my suitcase bumping along behind me. I stopped in front of the gate and glanced at them before waving my hand toward the gate. “Please! I just want to go!”

The younger of the guards seemed uncertain. He stepped out of the booth and looked me over, taking in my bandaged hand and tear-soaked face. “Miss, please,” he said carefully, “go back to the house.”

“I can’t!” Didn’t he understand? I wasn’t welcome here anymore.

“Besian will be angry.”

“He’s already angry.”

“Miss, Besian wouldn’t want you to leave like this.”

“Besian doesn’t want me anymore!” I shouted, humiliating myself even further. “Please! Just open the gate! I have to get out of here!”

The older man in the booth finally opened the gate. He seemed equally as worried as the younger guard. He said something to the man who was closer to my age, and that guard relayed it to me. “You should call a cab. It’s not safe to walk on these roads. It's dark. There aren’t a lot of lights. You could get hit by a car.”

“I fucking wish,” I yelled hysterically as I dragged my suitcase through the open gates and into the road. Still crying, I stomped down the street. As I walked in front of the ritzy houses, motion tracking lights popped on and vicious guard dogs barked behind fences. I paid no heed to my throbbing, burning feet and moved faster.

But the wheels of my suitcase weren’t meant for this kind of terrain, and after a few hundred yards, they stopped rolling altogether. Bits of gravel had locked up the wheels. I tried to dislodge some of it, but with only one hand functioning fully, I couldn’t manage it.

As if my situation couldn’t get any sadder, I had to carry the suitcase. It wasn’t that heavy at first, but the more I walked the heavier it got. The day had been so long, from the short hike to and exploring the castle, getting engaged, driving to Tirana, meeting Rina, my argument with Besian, drinking and dancing, the fight to save Stefana, the hospital and now this! I ran out of steam a mile or so into my walk.

Defeated, I dropped my suitcase on the side of the road and sat down on the hard shell. I completely lost it. Hugging my knees, I wept uncontrollably. What was I going to do now? Where was I going to go?

Home.

I wanted to go home.

Still crying, I fumbled for my phone and opened the app I preferred for buying plane tickets. I didn’t even care if I had to dip into the emergency travel funds I had set aside. I was going to pay whatever it cost to get on a plane and get the fuck out of this country as soon as possible.

The flight leaving the soonest with seats available was bound for Verona. That seemed like a sure sign. Where else would a girl recovering from a broken heart go but the very place where Romeo and Juliet’s doomed love story began and ended?

I booked the flight, but when I got to the payment part of the transaction, my credit card was declined. Growling with frustration, I selected the PayPal option instead. I entered my details and waited for the payment to process. The transaction declined, and I couldn’t understand why.

Dread turned my blood cold. All of the unanswered messages to my mother suddenly made sense. I thought of all the money she had asked for during my trip, a hundred here, five hundred there. Knowing her history of “borrowing” from me without my consent, I suspected the worst.

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