After a grueling drive through what seemed like every possible climate, minus frozen tundra and jungles, I arrived in a small town an hour away from the disturbing Greyherdt's facility and whatever may be waiting for me. In this rickety hole in the wall, thick forests surrounded everything while a constant rain patted my windshield like a tears from Gaea. No wonder logging was the main source of income for locals, I felt like I was going to drown.
Now that I think about it, I never really caught the name of the town, some toothless old man at a gas station in Cowlitz county just mumbled a bit and drew me crude directions on napkin. It seemed I had ended up in the middle of nowhere checking into a family owned motel bed and breakfast called Storybook Inn. The check-in office ran parallel to the motels as a separate wing with the parking lot in the middle. Despite two other occupancies and the kind old woman working the lobby, I felt like I had walked onto a horror movie set alone.
As soon as I came upon the clerk, possibly the owner, I felt she was going to be a little nosey and then she opened her mouth.
"Aww," she started in a crooning voice, "What's a pretty young girl like you doing out here? You visiting relatives? You look familiar."
Not only was I completely exhausted and chilled to the bone by the rain soaked clothing sticking to me, but I had no effing clue who the hell this crazy old woman was. Pretty? I had mascara running, my lips were chapped, and I'm pretty sure my hair looked similar to that of a cat in a bucket. If I didn't have self control I'd have acted like one.
"Sorry, just passing through," my voice croaked out.
Here eyebrows went up at the harshness of my voice, " I swear I've seen your face somewhere." She paused a moment to consider, but snapped back and asked, " Anyways. What can Mrs. Doughty do for you?"
"I need a room for one night with a full," I sighed then added "Possibly with a liquor assortment if you have it and smoking acceptable."
Her surprise was evident when her mouth dropped open. I guess that's a 'no'.
"No alcohol here, but there's a bar down the road if you'd like. I need to see your I.D. to verify you're at least 18 years of age for this room."
Okee dokey chicka.
I handed her the fake I.D. which says I'm Tara Johansen of Idaho who turned 21 as of this year, it usually gets me where I want, but she was a little hesitant.
Before I left town, I bought basic road trip items and took somewhere around four thousand dollars from Sam's bank account. When I say basic items, I mean a suitcase with one change of clothes, a robe, some toiletries, and another backpack with three cartons of Kool's 100's. No, I'm not a chain smoker. It's just a nervous habit to light a cig when I'm stressing. I swear.
As soon as she handed me the key, I said 'Thank You' and quickly went to my van and parked it in front of my room, away from prying eyes. The first hour or two I just sat in a fold out chair staring out the window into the never ending rainy parking lot debating on whether or not to mix with the locals at the bar down the street, but that sounded like it could get nasty.
Instead, I found myself pealing off the soaked garments like a second skin and dropping them on the floor in the bathroom corner. Steam and scolding water called to me as I stepped in. Immediately it began to relax my muscles and for a few moments I forgot everything and was just happy to not be completely on edge.
After I turned the water off the steam lingered temporarily, but as it was vented out and away the cold air reminded me of other things. My temporary piece of happiness was gone, like everything else, so with a deep sigh I stepped out of the now cold shower and slipped my cotton robe on. As soon as I had it tied, I grabbed the door and stepped into the even colder room, but someone else was there.
The fold out chair, now facing the bathroom door, had someone sitting in it waiting for me. That someone was Warren Peace.
"It's not that hard to find you Charlie . . . Or to break in," his deep voice rumbled against the sound of rain.
"Generally I don't care who breaks in, but you on the other hand I'd have to worry about."
He never moved from his position on the chair, but he kept his eyes fixated on me. For once he wasn't in his signature leather jacket instead it was replaced by a thick black front zip hoodie and his was pulled back giving him a more intimidating yet sexy vibe.
He motioned around the room, "I noticed the lack of alcohol and drugs. Someone must be trying to be taken seriously."
That hit a chord, I was about to kill him with my bare hands. With a vile laugh I threw my head back and clapped my hands together, "Bravo! BRAVO! Miles away from the brainwashing crew and you're still riding me even though that was MONTHS ago or did your cold, bitter heart forget that?"
As soon as I finished, he was out of the chair and inches from my face, never before had I seen him move that fast.
He opened his mouth, but I beat him to it. "What?! What do you have to say for yourself?! High and mighty as you are on your stool of stupid. You were the one who left me! You always were," I somehow managed to bring out the venom I felt for his bullshit, "Sometimes you weren't there to begin with."
His reaction was something I didn't expect, he turned around with clenched fists and said "Jesus, woman! If you got any more difficult, I'd have an aneurism!" This was soon followed by a growling noise and him drop kicking the chair, sending it flying into the room's door. That would definitely cost and possibly cause a commotion. He then turned back around and with an incredibly pissed off face grabbed me by my shoulders almost painfully and before I knew it his lips crashed upon mine like waves in a storm.
I had been waiting for him for years. Was I happy though?
No.
Why?
Because somehow I knew, it wasn't him.
