I hate the Fates and this infernal bond. Itâs messing up everything, and I can no longer control my feelings. I thought I was strong, but Iâm an idiot regarding him.
Iâm a fool for him in every way, and I canât even stay mad or hateful, no matter what he does, because the second I get a chance at connecting, I let him.
I shouldnât have left the link open all week; I should not have allowed myself to get taken in for even a second.
It should have been done the second I decided I was leaving and not given him a window of opportunity. I wonât make that mistake again, for sure.
I yank myself up, pull my head out of my ass, and aggressively wash myself down while refusing to break down anymore. Itâs the past. Itâs not where I need to be, mentally.
I wash my face until it feels raw, wiping away tears I donât want to cry anymore, and shampoo my hair with vigor as though cleansing my head of thoughts and feelings.
I finish up fast, pull a towel on when I step out, and focus all my efforts on drying quickly, rubbing my hair as dry as I can get it before combining it into a sleek ponytail and pulling on fresh underwear and clothes.
I slide on jeans, a tank, and a sweater, and pull on some socks and sneakers. I look around the room for anything I want to add to my backpack.
I tidy my room, make the bed, and lie down on top of it to force myself to take a nap to kill some time, staring blankly at the ceiling and refusing to let my mind wander back to him, us, or this crappy situation.
A noise outside my door makes me flinch, and I pause and stare at it, praying to God he hasnât decided to come here and start this shit all over again. Itâs what he does.
I hold my breath and listen, my heart beating loudly in my ears as panic sets in.
I canât see him. I canât let him sway me, touch me, or get close. My heart will betray me if I do.
The mysterious noise is followed by the squeak of one of the cleaning carts, and I exhale when it rolls right past my room and fades into the distance.
My body is weak with relief, and I sprawl out star-shaped on my bed, exhaling so heavily I let out a whooshing noise and then moan at my stupid despair.
Stop freaking out, Alora. Youâre going to get yourself in such a mess and not be able to follow through. Relax, breathe, and count.
I put everything into doing just that, remembering the techniques I used when I stayed at the home and couldnât relax or sleep on nights when everything got to me too much.
I picture a meadow, a sweet-scented field full of pretty flowers, and one by one, as I walk through them, I count the heads, picking them out, touching them as I go.
I visualize the colors, the feel of their soft, silky petals on my fingers, and how the subtle scent blows around on the breeze. They all dance and sway in ripples, coming to me in mixed smells.
It helps me drift into a calmer state of mind, the noise of nature drowning out everything else in my mindâs eye.
If I can just focus my energy for a little while, I can get through this. Once Iâm out of here and on my way, itâll be easier.
It seems to work. I drift into a semi-hazy state of rest, and before I know it, an hour or more has passed, and itâs getting dull outside.
I come to, aware Iâve lost time and must have slept, blinking at the sudden change of light in the space around me and checking the clock on my wall.
Iâm shocked that itâs been more than a couple of hours since I came up here already.
I guess I spent a long time in the shower. I hop up woozily, pacing to bring the nerves firing up and awakening my senses back in line.
Itâs early yet, but I donât think I have it in me to wait any longer. I stalk to the window to look out over the back of the pack house.
Itâs deserted back here, still too light for the guards to take up their position, and maybe itâs a sign I shouldnât wait until dusk.
Perhaps too many will be out there, and I might be unable to make up excuses if I get stopped trying to make my way out.
Everyone should be running around, doing chores right now, so I might have a better chance if I do it now.
A quick plan comes to mind, and I turn, picking up my damp towels from the laundry and wrapping them haphazardly around my backpack.
I add my sweats, so they look like a bundle of dirty clothes. I had intended to scale down my window later if I could, but this way, I can walk through the house as though Iâm late for laundry duty.
Then, if anyone sees me, Iâm just collecting clothes, and I can use the exit in the hall before the laundry room to access the rear of the house. Itâs a solid plan, and I donât waste time pulling myself together.
I bundle my faux pile in my arms, checking in the new mirror hung in here the other day to see if my backpack is on show.
Satisfied it isnât, I head to the door, take one last look around my room, and draw in a deep, steadying breath.
Itâs time to do this.
I use one hand to haul it open, slide out, and turn left toward the back stairs down to the first floor.
The one closest to my door brings me out into the same narrow hallway leading to the back exit and the laundry door. Itâs perfect.
I donât know why I didnât click on this before, and maybe this is the Fates trying to make up for messing with me.
I pass a few people lugging carts and vacuums from room to room and keep my head down, not really noticed by them, wishing Iâd worn a hoodie so I could pull it up, but itâs too late now.
I stick to my route, turn into the stairs, scale it in seconds at hyper-speed, and then head along the final hallway to freedom.
As soon as I get near the door, I look around, see no one is out here despite the hustle and bustle and steam coming from the nearby closed door to the laundry, and head out the back door instead.
No one is back here either, oddly. Itâs either good fortune or someone up there giving me a break. Iâm aware many windows look this way, though, and Iâm still not free and clear.
I unwrap my bag, pull it onto my back, and shove my dirty clothes and towels in a nearby bush.
I look around before pressing up against the house, my back sliding along the rough brickwork, eyes darting all around me to check no one is around.
I almost crawl under the window to the room I should be in right now, holding my breath every inch of the way.
My heartbeatâs crazy fast and racing, my breathâs shallow and hurried. My face is sweaty because Iâm scared to hell of being caught and marched to Juan Santo.
I stick to the flower beds, stepping over them so I donât trip, stay tight against the walls, and duck under every window I get to.
I take it slow, trying to remain silent as I do and battle my own shaking limbs.
Iâm heading for the tree line, which runs along one side of the manor, and once I get in there, I can run as fast as my body allows me, relatively unseen in its dense woods.
It extends for a couple of miles right out of the valley and into the farmlands beyond. I canât turn, as I donât want to ruin my clothes now.
I only have two complete outfits, but I should be able to race out without doing so.
I hold my breath when a door swings open behind me, freezing in place, half crouched, and eyes widening in horror.
I glance back, seeing it swing out into view, and my heart skips a beat, sweat rolling down my forehead from my hairline. No one comes out, though a voice waves my way closer than I expected.
âYeah, leave it open. Itâs like a goddamn sauna in here. Itâs inhumane, making us work in this shit for hours on end.â
I donât recognize the female voice, and whoever opened the door mumbles in response, retreating inside and fading in volume level.
I exhale, relaxing heavily, thinking my legs might give out with that little shock, move my ass back into gear, and run-crawl the rest of the way, feeling lightheaded.
As soon as I hit the tree line, I pull myself behind the biggest trunk I can find and use it as a viewpoint to check if anyone saw me come over here.
I take a minute to pull myself together, breathe properly, and lean against the rough bark until I regain my strength and the wobbliness in my legs fades.
I check my surroundings, surprised that there is no one out here. But as Juan has made it clear for days, the vampires canât be out in daylight. I guess thatâs why.
Everyone is busy doing what theyâre doing, and I can hear voices on the wind from the front of the manor, hinting that many of those with no chores are assembled in the front field.
I wonât get another chance like this.
I put my head down, turn in the direction I want, and set my legs in motion with no intention of slowing down, stopping, or looking back until there are at least five miles between Radstone and me.
I may have a heart attack as soon as I set out, but I keep one strong thought at the center of my mindâIâm finally free!
And I donât let up until Iâm sure of it!