Chapter Twenty

PRESENT TIME

I flung open the front door and bowed my head against the immediate downpour of rain. It hadn't eased since I'd first walked inside, but instead grown heavier. The rain was freezing, and each drop stung my skin.

The bathrobe I was wearing provided little to no protection at all. I decided then and there that I'd never wear a bathrobe again. Whenever I did, something bad or stupid always seemed to happen. In this case, I had decided to run outside in the freezing rain, which is never a good option.

I stopped momentarily at the top of the stairs leading to the front door. They were wider than normal stairs, so I had to carefully time my assent, otherwise I'd end up tripping over myself.

Not especially dignified after a somewhat dramatic exit.

Once I had finally hobbled down to the street, I coughed and put my hands over my face. I was back to where I'd started, only wet. I should have gone with my gut instinct and stayed away. Going to Paul's had been a complete waste of time…of tears. I'd given up crying that hard in a long time.

When I was first put in the institution, I'd cried myself to sleep every night for the first few months. My sobs had been drowned out by all the moans and cries of those around me. Then came the realisation that no amount of tears would change my situation, and I'd barely shed a tear since.

And now here I was.

But now to face the current problem: where the hell was I going to go?

I suppose there was always my younger stepbrother David. Even after my mother had married Andy, he had always been the nicest to me. When the yearly visits occurred, I had never felt like a burden to him. He would be the easiest one to convince. Jake, apart from always appearing stoned, also treated me with respect. After that…

Cee Cee and Adam immediately sprang to mind, but I shoved that idea away. I wouldn't be able to travel to the place I sent them to hide from Michael; it wasn't in the same country. It wasn't even in the same hemisphere, so they weren't a consideration.

David and Jake were. I'd just have to find out where, exactly, they were staying.

"Suze!"

I stopped. I turned, to see Paul standing on the steps, ignorant of the torrential rain saturating the both of us. I, however, was aware of the freezing sensations I was feeling all over my fingers and toes. They felt like they were going numb. My skin felt extremely sensitive, but at the same time I felt detached, as if it was happening to someone else.

I tried to tell him to go away, to return to the house, to just…leave me alone. But I couldn't. My vocal chords felt frozen, too.

"We need to sort things out."

I shook my head, my teeth chattering. I wrapped my arms around myself and started to walk backwards, keeping my eyes glued on him.

"SIMON!"

Paul's voice cut through the downpour. I could barely move, couldn't speak. There was something grabbing at my chest, squeezing my lungs. It almost ached to breathe. I walked backwards faster, trying to get my blood pumping again. I turned around and began running down the street again, attempting to keep my balance. My legs were refusing to function properly. I was shivering beyond belief and I was trying desperately to warm myself up.

I was hit with a wave of dizziness, and spots dotted my vision. I gasped, but it was a fruitless attempt; the dizziness had been a warning that I wasn't breathing properly, that my body was having a difficult time functioning. I coughed, holding my head and swaying on my feet.

"Come on," I heard Paul's voice behind me. Great.

"Just go away," I whispered. I shook my head, and tried to walk amidst the spinning. And then my vision went dark, and I felt my legs give way underneath me.

I don't know how I long I was out. It seemed like years, but in reality it was probably less than an hour. All I know is, when I did come around, I was warm. I never wanted to move. It took me a few minutes, once consciousness flooded in, for everything to connect and for my sluggish mind to work properly. The one thing I was mostly concentrating on was how I'd gotten so warm, when, in my last memory, I'd been mind-numbingly cold. Where was I?

I opened my eyes slowly. The first thing I saw was black. I recoiled a little, noticing it was black leather. Wait…

Slowly I sat up. It didn't take a genius to figure out where I was. I had only just been there, after all. Paul's lounge room.

I looked around, and jumped when I saw Paul leaning up against the couch I was lying on with his back to me, sitting on the floor. I jumped again when I realised that, underneath the blanket wrapped like a cocoon around me…I was practically naked.

Oh, for goodness sake.

"What the hell?" I yelped.

Paul whipped around, and relief filtered into his face. Too late, I noticed that he'd been holding something, something he hid from view so stealthily, I might have imagined it. "God…you're awake."

I glared at him. "Awake and naked." I said, quickly adding, "Sort of."

He tipped his head sideways and studied me. "Suze, you fainted out in the rain. I took your clothes off and put the blanket around you so you wouldn't get sick. Survival 101."

Oh jeez. Then again, it's not like it's anything he hasn't seen before.

I sank back into the couch, feeling stupid. "Oh." I shrugged and swallowed my pride. "Well. Thanks, then." My voice trailed off awkwardly. "What were you looking at?"

Paul raised his eyebrows, like I had asked an incredibly stupid question. "My hands," he held them up for me to see. "I've always considered being a hand model, think I should go for it?"

That didn't merit a reply from me, I decided. I tried to sit up, only the blanket was so tight I could barely move.

"Here," he went to help me, but I pulled back.

"No. Don't…don't touch me."

Paul sighed. "Suze, I'm only going to help you up."

Hmm. No more slurring for Paul. Obviously his run in the rain had sobered him up quite a bit. I let him help me up, then hobbled away and began loosening the folds. I felt like human sushi. When it was no longer quite as restrictive, I sat back down, feeling a little weak, but that wasn't my concern: I needed to leave. To where, I wasn't sure, but I figured dry clothes and an umbrella would make my next foray outside a little more successful.

I was about to stand up, when my stomach let out a grumble.

Paul looked a little guilty. "Do you want something to eat?"

"No."

Paul saw through my lie, and stood up. "Don't go anywhere. We still have to talk. And you're eating something. No offence…but you need it."

I rolled my eyes, but let him fix me something. I took the bowl of hot potato chips he offered a few minutes later, but I picked at it more than ate them. There was a time I used to be passionate about food, but now I just didn't care. I crossed my legs and leant back into the couch, the blanket still wrapped around me. "Would Marcia have any other clothes that would fit?"

Paul dropped the chip he'd been about to eat, like he'd lost his appetite. He stood, however, and returned a few moments later with a bundle of clothes in his fist. I looked at the short dress in distaste. He noticed, and tossed it over his shoulder. I took the rest and thanked him, moving upstairs and slipping on a pair of jeans and a jacket. It was a weird sensation, wearing normal clothes, but I guess it was going to be another thing to get used to again.

When I returned, he was still standing.

"I should go."

"Why?" he asked quickly.

I sighed. "I've intruded enough as it is. My being here isn't doing either of us any good, and you know it."

Paul looked at the floor. "I…you weren't the reason I was drinking."

I was about to deny that, when I remembered how he had been clutching a bottle when I'd first arrived. But my presence hadn't stopped him from drinking either, and I told him this.

"Yeah, but…"

"I thank you for your hospitality, but I have to get out of here."

I moved past him, but his arm shot out and stopped me. "I didn't mean it when I said for you to go before. You can stay. Come on, Suze."

"I'm going," I replied firmly, and ducked under his arm. Paul obviously wasn't giving up, because he grabbed my shoulder and forced me to face him.

"Please, stay the night. Where are you going to go at four in the morning? And it's still raining."

Denying him was what I wanted to do, but I couldn't find the words. He was giving me one of the saddest looks I'd ever seen. I couldn't figure out why, but I decided that staying was probably the smartest course of action for now. As much as I hated to admit it, Paul's argument reeked of logic—where, exactly, could I go at the moment?

"Fine," I agreed. "But I am going in the morning."

Somehow, I managed a few hours sleep. The difference between the bed I was sleeping in and the cot at the institution was like comparing bricks to clouds. I yawned and sat up, marvelling at how different it felt to wake in a bed in a room that didn't have barred windows and concrete walls. I lay there for a while, just luxuriating in the fact I wasn't going to be roused by a warden and I was operating on my own time. Eventually I moved downstairs. The house was still and quiet; Paul was obviously still sleeping. I wandered into the lounge room, and found the reds and blacks were not quite as stark in the daylight. They made the room look almost inviting.

I blinked sleepily, and my eyes landed on the television. I hadn't watched one in so long. I grabbed the remote and managed to turn it on, and the morning news hit me in the face like cold water, proving that you can be locked up for four years, but daytime television will never change.

The grave-faced reporter was talking about how a truck had driven off a bridge and had landed on the highway below. No casualties.

I sat back and watched, barely taking it in, until I found myself staring at my picture…and a very unflattering one, at that. The one they used for my profile at the institute. This kind of drew my attention.

The newsreader was telling the world how two patients had escaped from a medical centre the night before during a momentary lapse in security, and that the police were combing the city looking for the remaining fugitive…and if only the people of the city could assist them by keeping an eye out also.

She went on to describe how we were not classified as dangerous but should be treated with caution, but the only thing that I could focus on was 'remaining fugitive'. As in, only one person. To answer my question, she brightly informed the audience that one had been reclaimed the night before, attempting to steal food from a local convenience store.

Henrietta.

Which meant that, since they'd found her, the entire spotlight was on me. I'd never been a fugitive before, but I knew that staying put wasn't a smart idea.

I definitely couldn't stay here anymore.