CHAPTER THREE
I must've been on the bus for hours - the next thing I know, the bus driver is trying to get my attention. I take out my earphones and
"-END OF THE LINE LADY."
I wave flippantly to the bus driver, and exit out the rear door. I look around as soon as I get off, because to be honest, I haven't got a clue where I am, until I see a street sign. Whoa. I'm on the other side of town. I must've gotten on an express.
It's still raining, so I go inside the bus shelter and sit down. It's close to midnight so the streets are almost empty save a few cars here and there; once in a while a person walks past me. I close my eyes and listen to the rain hitting the roof of the bus shelter. It's peaceful.
My phone rings. It's my hall mate, Ravi. I answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Where are you." She sounds pissed.
"I'm at Singer and Depthford." I lean my head back on the glass wall, stretching out my legs in front of me. Might as well get comfortable, I sense a scolding coming on.
"Get here. Now."
I open my eyes. I was mistaken. She's not pissed. She's panicked. "What's wrong."
"She's locked herself in."
I close my eyes and lean back again, but my legs aren't so comfortable stretched out anymore. "She'll come out when she's ready."
"NO. It's different this time. I can't hear the usual noise, Get here. QUICK." She hangs up.
I can feel the anxiety flushing through my body as the dial tone shrieks in my ear. I stay sitting, half petrified, half defiant.
She's just doing this to get to me. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine...Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I rush out of the bus shelter, and run through the rain, onto the road. It's a friday, there should be a taxi here somewhere, trying to pick up drunken customers off the streets. I'm soaking wet by the time I get to one, but I don't care. I don't have the time to care.
"To Brackston Hall please."
Bonnibel, what are you doing...
The taxi driver nods hesitantly, then starts driving. I must look crazed. I am crazed. If anything were to happen, if she were to be hurt... I can't think of that right now. I have to focus. Where did I put her studio keys? I pat my body down, and find it in the left breast pocket of my jacket.
She had given me a copy after two weeks of me insisting on it. The key had just been a precaution, knowing that Bonnie liked to spend hours upon hours in her workshop, I thought it safer if someone else had a key to the place. By that time, I had seen Bonnie get into more than enough accidents to know she needed to be looked after. I hadn't realised it the first time I met her, but as we started to get to know each other better, I soon noticed the scars on her arms and legs, from moving easels, cutting frames, building scultpures, dropping mugs, and that was just the beginning of the list. At first I had thought it was because she was small that she got hurt easily (at five foot two, she weighed a little over 100lbs). I was mistaken. She was just clumsy.
Even in the midst of my anxiety I smiled slightly at the memory of watching her stumble on her own two feet. Bonnie was agile when she needed to be, but most of the time, her head was caught in a daze, most likely conjuring up the next work of art. She was always creating.
My grip on the seatbelt tightens. What had happened? In the span of a week, what could have happened? In my absence, what had happened? I'm beside myself now, she's all I can think of. She's the only thing I won't lose. That's why I had stayed away, so that I could keep her in my life. I needed her. She was the one person I didn't have to hide in front of. She saw my darker moments and still she stood by me. It was crazy how close we'd become in three years, but it feels just as natural as the breeze on your face on a sprightly spring day, even now, even with how I feel about her, she's still the easiest person to be around. I shouldn't have left her alone. This is insane. This is insane.
"-Miss? We're here."
I look up at the concerned driver, and then out the window. Fumbling with my wallet, I thank the driver, give him his money and mumble for him to keep the change. My hands are shaking.