Haunted Escape | ONC 2022

.8.

Chapter 8

The doctor, Hailey, a lovely middle-aged woman with gorgeous, dark skin with her long black hair tied into an intricate braid, determines that I don't have a concussion. Apparently I'll just have a gnarly bruise on my forehead and she told me to take some painkillers and try to rest for the next few days.

As soon as she was gone, Landon helped me up to bed and tucked me up in the warmth of my duvet. On my request, he stayed in the room with me, falling asleep on the loveseat in the corner of my room. We didn't talk about the girl, or the accident, or the kiss, and I fell asleep straight away, comforted by his presence.

I wake up late the next day, my head pounding with a hangover and the very obvious bump on the right of my forehead. Lifting myself up with a lot of effort, I glance over to the loveseat, slightly saddened to see that Landon is no longer there, his blanket discarded across the floor.

But then my eyes travel to my bedside table and I notice a glass of water, two white pills and a note sitting on the surface.

Sorry I had to rush off. There's work to do on the farm. Take care of yourself and I'll check up on you later. My number is below.

Landon x

P.S. Don't feel embarrassed. About anything.

My lips flicker up into a smile. I've never known anyone like him before, and after spending my life surrounded by people who ignored or tormented me relentlessly, he's a breath of fresh air.

I can't even find it within me to feel bad or awkward about kissing him. I don't know what it could mean, if it even held any meaning, but I don't want to dwell on that. It was a good kiss with a good man. If that's all there was to it, then so be it.

I eagerly throw the pills down my throat, chasing them with long sips of water. I spend about half an hour in bed, waiting for the ache in my head to dull down to a small throb, before I finally peel the duvet away and get out of bed.

Jinx is in the room, stretching out as he watches me go into the en suite bathroom while running a hand through my hair. He follows me in, brushing against my bare legs, and it's then that I notice the injury on my head in the mirror. A good sized bump, bruised and grazed along with a brief cut just under my eye. I should be thankful I didn't break a bone after accidentally throwing myself down those stairs, but my face has definitely seen better days.

I try to hide it behind a layer of make-up then get dressed into tight black jeans, a frilly white top and a big, oversized leather jacket. Tying my hair up in a messy half-up, half-down style, I breathe out a shaky sigh. I'm planning to go and venture out into the village, specifically to try and get a job at Silverstones, but the injury is still noticeable and I brace myself for the inevitable questions I'm going to be asked. Unless they already know, which seems likely in a village like this one.

After giving Jinx one final pet, I grab a small bag and loop it over my shoulder, leaving the house and locking the door behind me. As soon as I'm out in the fresh air, I already feel a bit better, my hangover and painful memories of last night floating away with the tranquil breeze.

I walk down the path that leads into the town, my heeled boots clicking against the cobbled streets. There are quite a few people milling about, sitting at tables in front of quaint coffee shops or dipping in and out of a variety of stores. Some of them give me a small smile in greeting, some going as far as waving or calling out a quick 'good morning' my way. It's such a contrast to where I used to live; where people avoid eye contact and get loud-mouthed at you if you so much as brush past them on the busy streets.