I’ve never seen men so agitated and desperate as they fight over women who seem to love the attention and violence. It is quickly deteriorating into something potentially scary, and I’m nervous.
My eyes continue to rove over the crowd in search of Milton. I haven’t seen him in a little while, and Nick hasn’t returned at all. It’s been just Blake and me for a time, having not left his side once even though I’m uncomfortable, exhausted, and in pain.
I can feel the bruises forming beneath the layers of makeup Florence covered me with from the events earlier today. I want more than anything to escape the crashing music and drunken men. Curl into a ball and sleep until all of this is over.
Not that I know where I’ll be sleeping tonight. Blake hasn’t mentioned anything about our sleeping arrangements, which worries me. I hope it’s not in here with everyone else. I can only imagine how bad it’s going to get in the next hour or two.
It’s not safe here. I’m not safe here.
Blake’s high and drunk, stewing in a haze of rage and whatever pills Milton gave him. Pills he took more of when it became evident that Jerome stood him up.
Not that it’s stopped people trying to join him in the festivities. Regardless of his bad mood, beautiful women regularly saunter over to him to flirt. Because I’m here, he sends them out. They leave with pouty lips and angling me with angry stares. Not that I care for their sickening jealousy. I’m doing them all a damn favor.
With each passing second, Blake’s mood worsens. Any minute, he’s going to pass out or tear this place apart. Two extremes that leave me vulnerable.
With Milton, God knows where, I suddenly feel unprotected. And bursting to pee, having needed to go for the last three hours, but too scared to ask Blake if I can. When my stomach cramps, I know I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Blake?” When he says nothing, I tap him on the arm. Grunting, he turns my way slowly, eyes bloodshot and half-closed.
“What?”
“I need the bathroom.”
He snorts, slurring, “Hold it in.”
“I can’t,” I beg, close to tears. “I haven’t gone all day.”
Sighing, he waves his hand, slumping into the chair more. “Go. Come straight back.”
What?
I hesitate, thinking he’s joking, but when he waves his hand again, I jump up from the chair so fast my head spins a little. Although I know the protocol of going back to him when I’m done, with this new sense of freedom, my body itches to push boundaries. Break a rule or two.
No one looks at me as I push the chair back and quickly head to the exit. No one stops me as I cross the tent and go outside, all too busy to care about the blond girl leaving her master’s side.
The roar of motorcycles battling it out on a track vibrates beneath my feet. The smells of hotdogs and cotton candy fill my senses, making my stomach twist with hunger. When was the last time I ate? Yesterday morning? I’m starving now and have no money to get food or even do anything.
Finding a row of unsanitary portable toilets, I relieve my bladder, hovering over the gross toilet seat to avoid sitting on it. After washing my hands, I go back outside.
Go. Come straight back.
I don’t want to go back to the tent. I want to be out here. Though, instead of heading deeper into the festival, I find myself moving in the opposite direction, back at the entrance and staring out at the empty road.
What would happen if I ran? Right here and now?
The thought has my heart skipping a beat. Run or stay. Where would I go? How far would I get?
If caught, the punishment will be worse than anything I’ve ever endured. The ultimate betrayal. Who knows what Blake would do to me?
But then, how much longer can I continue living this life when I’m already slipping away? It could be my only chance
I take a step forward and fear floods my chest. It almost pushes me back, but I force myself forward.
Before I know it, I’m running. Wind whips through my hair, tears spilling over my eyelids. I’m crying. Panting. Panicking.
It clings to every part of me, screaming no, no, no!
It feels like I’m being chased. As if at any moment someone’s going to reach out and grab me. Drag me back. Snitch on me.
No one does. There’s no one around, only me and the noise of my feet pounding into the dirt. I run until the music is just a series of dull thumps in the distance, and the air changes to earthier tones; pine and damp moss.
A sharp burn in my lungs warns me to stop, and I slow to a walk, clutching the stitch at my side and breathing heavily into the night.
Surrounded by pure blackness, I can hardly see what’s in front of me, and it dawns on me that I didn’t think this through. My fear hasn’t gone away. There’s no relief. The further away I get, the worse I feel, until I’m questioning what the fuck I’m doing.
I’ve no idea where I am, and if I’m lucky to get out of here, it’s not as if I can go to Mom with her being in Paris with Lawrence. Dad’s out of the question, knowing for sure he will only march me straight back to Blake the moment I got home.
I have no one to go to and no way of getting out of Dawlin. I don’t even know how to get back to Fair Haven. Even though I never thought I’d have this opportunity, I should have paid better attention to which directions we took.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Sickness swirls through me, and I stop walking. Dry retching, I
