Chapter 47

Chapter 47
Chapter 47

The restaurant doors were heavy but Megan was able to pry them open.

The heat of the sun slapped against her warm skin as she stared confused at the busy street.

Turning back, Megan noticed that not even one person had followed her.

From the outside she could see that all attention was back on Cleo like she had just been a disturbance, a disruption in their perfect world.

A feeling of worthlessness washed over her as she turned her gaze back to the busy street.

Cars rushed past sending gushes of wind past her frame. The entire area was loud and bustling, yet it was all muffled to Megan.

Her eyes blinked rapidly as it took a moment for her eyes to properly adjust to the late afternoon light.

Beads of sweat gathered on her body making her body feel sticky and uncomfortable.

Megan could not even remember the last time that she had a bath and she did not miss the way people walking seemed to avoid her.

Her chest rose up and down rapidly as her hoarse throat struggled to lubricate itself.

Her body stumbled forward, her heels pacing the pavement, not caring where she was going.

Behind her, she could hear the muffled whispers but she did not care. She just walked and walked.

“I am sure she would be able to fix this too.”

Megan mumbled under her breath, her mind going back to what had happened on the restaurant.

She also tried to make sense of what had happened in the restroom but the more her mind went to it, the more she seemed to not remember.

A bus passed, its windows black, reflections shifting. For a moment she thought she saw the face of the little blonde girl pressed against the glass, dripping wet, eyes hollow. Then the bus was gone.
Megan froze, her body visibly shivering as a hush of cold air brushed against her.

It was then that she noticed that the sun had since gone down and it was now late in the evening.

A sharp sting pricked at her feet causing her to flinch.

Megan’s gaze went down meeting her feet and she noticed that all the while, she had been walking bare feet.

How long had she walked?

Where was she?

These thoughts ran through her mind at a fast pace yet, strangely enough, she felt at peace.

Her feet turned around as she began walking in the opposite direction.

Megan began to miss home. It was like her feet had a mind of their own as they moved her body without her mind even having a part in it.

Megan took in a deep breath, remembering the scent of manuscripts hung up on her wall, the smell of fresh ink and the sight of the cramped, small apartment.

She always hated the fact that she lived in such a small, unsightly place, yet at this very movement, it felt safe to her, almost like a cocoon.

There were no cars, just trees around her. Something felt wet and warm on her hands and it was then that she noticed the blood red stains on her hands.

Yet, she remained very calm. 

Tears fell down from the corner of her eyes, staining her cheeks yet she did not feel even an ounce of panic.

And at the same time, she could not remember anything after she had left the restaurant.

Her body felt heavy yet numb at the same time and if she did. it know any better, then she would have believed without even as much as a shred of doubt that her heart had stopped beating against her chest wall.

Her legs continued to move her body but the more she walked, the more trees she saw. 

Nothing looked familiar to her.

Then after walking for what seemed like hours, she saw it…..

In the distance a run down looking building…..

Some of the sign lights were not on but she could still make out the letters.

Hotel La Rue.

At first, she just stood there staring right at the hotel building like she had lost all life in her legs.

Then just as soon as she could, her legs began to drag her bloodied frame towards the building.

The cold air felt like a thousand knives against her pale skin but she still kept moving.

Soon, she reached the hotel and once inside, a cold tired looking receptionist was staring right back at her.

The reaction came in an instant.

She looked down at her bloodied hands and frame but did not say a word about it.

“Here at Hotel La Rue, we do not care about your story.”. 

The receptionist said with a dismissive stare going back to looking at something else.

Then she looked up at her before speaking  again.

“All we care about is that you pay for your room and check out when you say you will check out. This is not a place to hide. We are still running a business.” 

Megan could not explain the anxious feeling trust washed over her but staring down at her bloodied hands and body made my head throb angrily.

“I’ll like a room” Megan finally spoke up, for some reason not whine able to look into the eyes of the receptionist.

“Name?”

It was a simple question but Megan found herself hesitating.

The receptionist asking the question was more than enough to cause beads of sweat to gather on her forehead and the sides of her face.

Her throat felt hoarse and it felt like her tongue had gone numb.

For some reason that she could not understand, that one simple question was very hard for her to answer.

The receptionist stared coldly at her, tapping her fingers on the desk as if to signify that she would like for her to hurry up.

“Cleo.”

Megan finally croaked out, the name sounding foreign on her lips but soon, she adjusted her posture and a small smile found her lips.

“My name is Cleo Ainsley”