Beautiful Misery |1

13. MOTEL OF MISERY

The dark cloud of shame I'd been trying to desperately outrun had found me once more— covering me with its cold, mocking shadow. Staggering back, I fisted my shirt over my heaving chest. Shaking my head I refused to believe it. "Please baby, I can't see you like this." Cupping Macy's face, Joey kissed her softly. "After knowing what that fucker did to Gia, even I feel responsible. What happened to her is-I can't even think of a word to describe how fucked it is. Having to accept that the bastard got away with it, that's why you feel guilty- hell it's why I feel guilty." Hugging her closer, he tucked her head under his chin. "I'm glad you told me."

Shakily, I stepped forward. "You told him..." My voice sounded weak, ailing to my own ears. Breaking apart both Macy and Joey watched me cautiously, her wet eyes widening as she took in my betrayed appearance. Reaching for me she began to explain.

"Gia, I had-" Stepping out of her reach, I pressed a hand to the wall for stability. Cupping her mouth, she cried harder, my gaze fell to the floor. I could feel Joey's gaze on me, rubbing my arms instinctively I began to claw at my skin. He knew everything. He knew what Mr Hale made me do— every degrading task he'd force me to carry out. "I'm so sorry..." Macy's trembling voice, spoke through her tears.

Pushing off the wall I moved around their frozen forms. Snatching my keys off the counter, I tore through the front door— clearing the stairs before they could register what was happening. My numb state dismissed the vague sounds of protest I heard in the distance. Glimpsing both Macy and Joey running out into the lawn, I keyed the ignition and pulled away from the curb. I watched the shrinking image of Joey holding Macy up before she could fall to the ground. Starring out into the quickly fading daylight, I kept driving— despite the flicker of emotion that begged me to turn around and console my best friend.

Speeding down the street, I wrung the steering wheel with my fisted hands. There was no rationality in my actions, only an insecurity I wasn't brave enough to face. I always considered myself a strong minded individual— someone who couldn't care less what others thought of her— and I think somewhere we all do. That is until the world becomes your enemy and suddenly you find yourself becoming a total outcast. When those around you collectively begin to view you in such a demeaning manner, you unwillingly lose your sense of self-confidence.

It was naive to think I could run from my past, if not today then one of these days shame would once again confront me. I would eventually find myself standing opposite a swarm of accusing eyes; I would once again crumble. Blinking through the tears blurring my vision, I drove my foot into the accelerator— wanting to outdrive the heavy weight of everything I allowed Mr Hale to do to me, to escape him completely.

The echo of his sickening voice grew louder in my ears, my stomach churned. Hazy memories began to ridicule me as the day I'd surrendered my dignity to Mr Hale flashed before my eyes.

"You'll never escape me, Giada..." Mr Hale laughed a deep guttural sound, thrilled by the notion. My throat raw from screaming, I stared at Milo— weak and dehydrated. Ropes held him captive to a wooden chair opposite me. Unmoving, I couldn't rely on my mind for anything but silence. After weeks of searching and playing Mr Hale's sick little game, I'd finally found Milo. I'd never felt true fear before, this was no doubt it— completely paralysing. "Everybody has a weakness, Giada-" pausing, he fisted the back of Milo's hair. Snapping his head back painfully, he raised the jagged bladed knife to his throat. "-this is yours." He finished, holding the blade over Milo's carotid artery.

My lungs suddenly expelled the oxygen I was holding all in an abrupt gasp. "Please...don't" I breathed, holding my hand up— reasoning with a psychopath. Smiling, he retracted the knife. Swallowing, I closed my eyes in a moment of relief.