I had no idea where I was going.
I had the clothes on my back, the shoes on my feet, a dismantled phone, and five dollars in my pocket – which I only found by sheer blind luck.
It was instinct more than a real plan that made me duck into a Starbucks about a block from Dean's apartment. I wanted to get off the street in case he had changed his mind and was coming after me.
I ordered a coffee, giving away my five dollars, and sat at a table in the back near a second exit...just in case.
I was halfway through the coffee when it struck me that I should probably put my phone back together and call Aaron before he called in the SWAT team. Then I was going to call Paul and work on getting back home.
Aaron picked up before the phone could even completed a single ring.
"Liz?"
"Hi, Aaron," I replied. My hand had started to shake. I put my coffee down before I spilled it everywhere.
"Oh thank God," he exhaled. "Are you all right?"
"I'm stranded in Vegas with no money and I'm terrified," I blurted out, and unsurprisingly tears filled my eyes. I rested my forehead in one shaking hand and stared down at the table, hoping to avoid being 'that lady' in the middle of a Starbucks. I took a deep breath. "But I'm intact, I'm breathing, and my heart's beating."
"That's a start," he said gently. "We can get the rest of it together as long as you're all right."
"Physically, I'm fine," I assured him. "He...he didn't...he just..." I swallowed hard. I didn't want to talk about this yet. I barely wanted to think about it.
"You don't have to tell me, Liz. Really. I'm just relieved to hear your voice." He paused. "Where in Vegas are you?"
"In a Starbucks, having a suburban white chick meltdown."
He chuckled. "Which Starbucks? Do you know the street?"
I managed to remember, somehow, and relayed this information to him.
"OK. Sit tight. I'm going to make a few phone calls and call you right back, ok?"
I confirmed that this was ok – really, what the fuck else did I have going on? – and we said our goodbyes.
I put the phone on the table and rested my head in my hands. After a minute, I rubbed my weary eyes and attempted to sit up straight and look like I had my shit together.
I had barely started to succeed at that particular task when a text message came in – Paul. 'Aaron called. I know to keep your line open, but I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and that I will make this right.'
The message was both mildly ominous and a huge relief. I didn't know how Paul would 'make this right,' but I was glad to know that I was only going to have one awkward conversation about an attempted rape today. Small silver lining.
Even though I was expecting it, the phone ringing a minute or two later startled me. I jumped, jostling the table and nearly spilling my coffee...again...before I hit the button and answered.
"There's a hotel at the end of the block," Aaron said without preamble. "I've reserved you a room. Go in, give the front desk my name, and they'll take care of everything. Get a little rest, if you can, and we should have things a bit more settled later this evening."
"Thank you," I said, my eyes welling up again as a rush of genuine gratitude ran through me. "I don't know what I'd do..." I bit my lip to keep from sobbing.
He was quiet for a minute. "I'll do anything you need, Liz," he said quietly. "Just say the word."
"You've already done so much," I protested.
"I made a reservation. That's all. Go take advantage of it. When you're ready, call me."
"I will," I promised. "Thank you."
We hung up once again. I looked down at my half-full cup of coffee and decided that I didn't need any more of it. I slid out of the booth and walked out of the coffee shop, making a concentrated effort to keep my head up and look normal.
The hotel I walked into – rather uncertainly – was incredibly inviting, with warm-toned marble floors, coffered ceilings, and massive chandeliers spilling warm amber light throughout the lobby. I gave them Aaron's name at the front desk, and the woman's demeanor immediately became less businesslike and more friendly.
She gave me a single key card and directed me to the room, which was apparently located on the thirty-third floor. I made my way to the elevator, feeling a huge weight descend on my shoulders. I was exhausted – the last of my adrenaline scores had been depleted.
I still had enough energy to be shocked when I walked into the room – which was, in fact, a suite filled with plush furniture and a stunning view of the Vegas strip – but not for terribly long.
I fell onto the bed, curling up into a ball. Thoughts of Dean slid into my head now that I wasn't distracted, and I tried to forcefully push them away. He'd tried to hurt me – hell, he'd tried to brand me as his. It was a miracle I wasn't lying on his bed bleeding.
And that was about the moment that the fear, the relief, the confusion, and the hurt fell on me all at once. I started crying finally.
"What the fuck, Dean?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "What the fuck happened with us?" I wiped a hand roughly at my eyes, determined to stop crying.
My phone started ringing. I wasn't even surprised that Dean was calling me, as if he could hear me and was calling to answer my question.
I debated on answering the call and nearly let it go to voicemail before I picked up.
"Hello?" My voice was rough and somehow hollow.
"You ok?" He asked, his voice flat.
"Fine," I sniffled.
"You want to come back?"
The question hung between us. I couldn't believe he had the audacity. I fought back the surge of anger rising in my chest.
"No. That's not a good idea."
"I know. I was just hoping you wouldn't care."
I shook my head. "Not this time, Dean," I replied, my voice raw again. "I can't do that this time."
He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know." He paused. "Where are you?"
"I'm not telling you that."
"Lizzy...tell me where you are." I could hear the anger creeping into his voice.
"No."
He was quiet for a minute. "You know me, Liz. You know that if you don't tell me, I'll set the world on fire to find you. Hell, I'll turn everything to ash...including us. We might burn the world down, but what a beautiful fire it would be."
"You're sick," I replied, disgusted. "You need help."
"Are you just realizing that? You're way behind, Lizzy." He snorted derisively. "And here I thought you were smarter than that."
"I'm smarter than you realize," I replied before immediately hanging up the phone and yanking the battery out.
I was done talking for today.
