I bolt the hotel room door behind me. For a while, I only stare at it, daring the knob to move. He's still after me, that so-called Mr. Anderson - I know he is. My heart drums in anticipation of footsteps in the hallway outside that never come. I suck in a breath. Maybe...maybe I really did lose him, I try and fail to convince myself. After checking the lock one more time just to be sure, I force my eyes away from the door.
It's only now that I really take in the rest of the room. Tattered blinds dangle over a single second-story window, an ancient CRT TV sits on a dresser, and a bed with some rather suspicious stains comprise my makeshift shelter. I can't help but think of all the germs that must make their home here - the doctor in me stirring uncomfortably in the back of my mind - but I have much bigger threats to worry about right now. This place will have to do until I scrounge up enough money for an upgrade.
I check the window to be sure it's locked, as well, before forcing myself to sit on the edge of the bed. My body aches, but my throbbing chest chases away any chance of sleep. What I wouldn't give to be able to close my eyes and feel safe.
Instead, I swallow down my self pity and pull out my tablet. A twinge tightens my throat when I look at my notifications. There's a voicemail from my husband. It's the first time he's called me in weeks - I would've thought he'd stopped trying by now. For a few minutes, I let my finger hover over the callback button and entertain the fantasy of hearing his voice. What would I say? How could I even begin to explain everything I've seen? I...don't even know if I'm quite the same person he married anymore. I'm stained, somehow.
My daydreams no longer pleasant, I delete the message without listening. I've already removed all of my family and friends from my contacts list, and I hope that I'll forget their numbers soon. It's easier without the temptation. Contacting anyone means putting them in danger, and I love the people I've left behind far too much to drag them down with me.
Tires squeal in the streets below my room, startling me out of my reveries. A man's voice floats up to my window next. He sounds...afraid, somehow. There's nothing below but an empty alleyway. Why is anyone here, at all?
I blink, and against my better judgement, carefully prowl closer to the blinds. Peeking through them, I see a cab parked not far from my room, and a shaking man in sweaty day clothes following another in a business suit. They disappear into the shadows of another alley. 24th and Kensington...
I swallow, unsure of why I'm suddenly more uneasy than ever.
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