18
Haven
Well, this night certainly didn’t turn out as romantic as it was intended to. Watching my ex-love, who just got out of prison, follow some skank into a sleazy motel room, is not exactly the definition of romantic. Even less romantic, and slightly pathetic, is me sitting in the middle of the same motel parking lot, somewhat stalking my ex-lover while debating if I should get my own room because I’m scared to go home to my almost fiancé. I should never have followed Raine here. Just the latest in a list of things I shouldn’t have done concerning that man.
The door of the motel room Raine walked into ten minutes ago flies open, and for a moment I consider hiding. Then I realize there is nowhere in this empty parking lot to hide. What’s worse is that he spots me immediately and doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised to see me standing here.
"God dammit, don't you have somewhere to be?" he yells over.
"Not like you do." I know I’m not in a position to stand up to him, but all I wanted to do was apologize.
"You don't get to do this, Haven. Follow me around like you’re some kind of lost puppy until I cave in. Again. Maybe it worked the first fucking time, but it isn't happening again."
I deserve that. Plus, much more. "You're right," I say, giving up this battle—if that's what it should be called. I head toward the street, staring down the dark road.
"Where's your car, Haven?"
"With my almost fiancé, who I ran away from four hours ago."
"What the—hell," I hear him mutter. "You're not seriously walking back to Cascade now, are you?"
"Yup!" I shout back to him as I continue walking. He's right. I pretty much forced myself onto him the first time around. At this moment, I am telling myself I will not do that again. I am not that stupid sixteen-year-old girl I once was.
"Don't be a moron," he yells. His affectionate words aren't going to stop me now. I walked here just fine, and I can walk back to Cascade and that park bench just as well.
I keep walking for several minutes without looking behind me, ignoring the sound of loose gravel crunching, along with the growing footsteps. My intention was not to make him run after me. My intention was to get him to listen to me—my apology. I know now that’s not going to happen.
His hand locks around my arm. I try my hardest to tug it out of his grip, but he lifts me up in my five-thousand-dollar dress and throws me over his shoulder as if I were a bag of soil. "Put me down!" I shriek.
No matter how much I pound on his back or try to kick my way loose, it's useless. I'm powerless against him. Once we reach the motel lot, he places me down on my feet. "I slept with one eye open for the past seven years, on top of a mattress with the coils poking through. Today is the first day I've worn a color other than orange since the last time you saw me. I don't remember what good food tastes like, and I don't remember what it's like to shower, piss, and shit alone. Do you know why?" He’s shouting in my face, pointing his finger at me. And I want to cry because everything he’s saying is everything I feared.
I swallow my guilt and shake my head. "Because I lied," I say, more words hardly audible.
"How can you even stand here and look me in the face? How have you lived with yourself for the past seven years, huh?"
I haven't been able to. Doesn't he understand that's the reason I'm standing here right now? "Ican'tforgive myself."
He looks at every inch of me from my hair down to my shoes. "Sure as hell doesn't look like you had trouble moving on."
"What else can I say besides 'sorry'? Please tell me. I'll do anything to make it so you don't hate me. Because right now, I can't live like this. I can't look in the mirror and accept who I am. I have pressed through every single day for the past seven years avoiding my reflection, knowing I would never see the person I wanted to become and how badly I ruined that chance. Because…I was only that person when I was with you." He holds his head in his hand, letting out a long, aggravated breath. Am I breaking through to him? Is he beginning to understand how truly sorry I am? Would he believe me if I told him I had no idea that what we did was illegal? I was so damn ignorant after being held captive in the safe little bubble my parents kept me in for so long? "I had no idea we were breaking the law…"
A raucous groan rumbles in his throat as he presses his hands down the sides of his face. "How the hell did you not know? They teach that shit in sex-ed, freshman year of high school. You knew you were lying, which means you had some fucking idea, Haven." I stare at him, feeling a glaze of tears film my eyes. I don't think it'll help to remind him I was homeschooled, and sex-ed wasn't part of that program. Beyond that, I don't know how else to say I'm sorry for a very foolish mistake I made seven years ago. "Do you know what people think of me now?"
"You always told me you didn't care what people thought of you."That was before his picture was mounted on every corner.
"Yeah." A cynical laugh hitches in his through. "That was true until they started calling me a sexual predator."
"Please, just let me walk back to town," I beg. I can't bear to listen to this anymore, which yes, I know is horrible considering he doesn't have the option of walking away.
"Why did you run away from your 'almost fiancé?'" He mocks my voice and words, taunting me, trying to get under my skin, and he can. He could stick a pin under my fingernail and I'd deserve that.
I hiss a soft laugh, understanding how absolutely screwed up my night has become. "Because, Raine—"
"Why?" he says, more sternly this time.
"There are a couple of reasons, but the biggest one—I want to live. I want to feel my pulse race. I want to sweat, feel fear, and excitement. I don't want this," I wave at the dress I have on. "I want—"
"What? What do you think you want, Haven?"
