Orange Juice

Chapter Thirty-Three

 The heavy stench of blood, sweat, and tears followed along Lizzy as she ran away to an unknown destination on foot through the night that kept her bloody secret concealed within its pitch darkness. She tripped over her step multiple times, barely able to keep her balance when her head felt heavier than her body.

 She had not the slightest clue where she was running to or what she was going to do next. She just allowed her body to move her and hoped she would end up somewhere safe where the blood that painted her hands and cheeks would wash right off like it were never there, to begin with.

 The orange lights of the street lampposts and the driving cars dizzied her as she continued to run across the familiar town that felt ever so foreign to her.

 She stopped to catch her breath and almost found herself breaking down on the concrete. Immediately, she pulled herself back together, hurriedly tying her dirty pink shoelaces in a more secure knot, and continued to run through the night.

 Suddenly, her pace slowed down gradually as she caught glimpse of that gas station, the same one she had first met her love at. The memories flooded back into her head like waves in a storm before she could begin to block them out and suddenly she found herself drowning in the overwhelming emotions that washed over her body at the image of those hazel eyes.

 Her knees buckled as everything came down like a brick shower on her shoulders. She fell to the rough floor, clasping her hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the sob that threatened to escape.

  She had to get up. She had to keep running. She couldn't think of a logical or rational reason to motivate her to do so at the moment, but she urged herself to do it anyways and find the reasons later.

 She crawled forward, pressing her palms against the dirty road as she tried to push herself up. She brought her foot up and pressed it down to stand, and the moment she did she sloppily began running again with all the energy she could still muster.

 And so she ran and ran and ran. She passed by all the places she had roamed around all those six years when she never once would have imagined ending up like this; bloodily running alone through the dark night with her unwashed clothes, empty stomach, teary eyes, a shattered heart, and guilty hands.

 She kept running with the wind hitting her face for what was minutes but felt like hours until stopping dead in her tracks when her eyes caught sight of an unmistakably familiar colorful van illuminated under the warm light of the lit-up motel sign.

 And it was not any random hippie van, it was none other Tulip the van.

She froze right in her place, her heavy breaths the only sound within her perceptive senses.

 This was the van that belonged to her beloved. Lizzy had thought the ache in her heart could not possibly pain her any deeper, but a realization clenched the muscles in her chest in an aching bitter-sweetness that seeped into and partially warmed her cold blood; Sunny had never left.

 She perhaps still had hope, or maybe she just never got the chance to leave. Either way, it answered the questions Lizzy had been asking the sunsets since the day she parted with her sun.

 But she did not walk forward. She could not get herself to knock at the van with her bloodied hands. She was a killer, and she was a runaway trying to escape the justice that would soon chase her to avenge her victim; her sister, whom she had murdered in a heartbeat.

 Maybe it was immoral, but she was beyond tempted to choose the comfort of her selfishness in that very moment. Nothing made sense or seemed worth fighting for, yet she craved to lay in Sunny's warm arms and cry the burdens of her aching soul out into her chest.

 She needed Sunny more than she wanted her, and she knew that Sunny would want her, but she could not be sure that she needed her. Especially not when she was like this.

 But with no will to begin with she could not imagine taking another step before at least seeing her face once more. And she was aware that if or once the police got to her, she would die under the sentence of the unjust justice system, and she wished more than anything to see her juice girl one last time before that possibility could become a reality.

 Lizzy took small careful steps to the van with her breath held within her lungs. Once she stood directly in front of the door, she peeked inside through the window; Nobody.

 She knocked hesitantly but hopefully just in case and was met with no reply. She turned over her shoulder to look at the motel behind her.

 Lizzy was aware of the fact that she could not walk into the reception and ask for Sunny with the red blood staining her clothes, face, and body. Still, all she wanted was a few seconds with her since anything beyond would be too much to ask for in her situation, even she knew that.

 Just a few seconds, and then she could walk back out to the cruel world without fear of being stolen out of it.

 She looked back at the empty road then back at the motel and then back at the road again. She shut her eyes tightly for a few moments before turning and staggering over to the stairs of the motel.

 She stopped in her tracks midway through the stairs, hesitating heavily once again, biting her lip to hold her tears in.

 She took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky exhale before taking her final chances with no return and calling out for her love, "Sunny?" she called out loudly, her voice wobbly and unstable as it escaped her trembling lips, "Sunny."

 She stood on the balcony and waited for a few moments, but nobody replied. The receptionist would be standing before her any second, ready to call the police at her concern raising sight.

 Warm tears spilled down her cold, bloodied cheeks as she slowly blinked in defeat. She turned back to walk down the flight of stairs before she heard the hurried scrambling of a lock from the door directly to her right.

  Door number nine swung open, and behind it, Sunny stared at her returned murderous darling with wide hazel eyes and utter disbelief.