On The Other Side

Chapter 5 - Vanishing Trails

GEORGE
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Arriving at the hotel after approximately fifteen minutes, we find it mostly empty, which is a relief. We quickly secure a room with two beds and settle in. I plug my phone into charge, and as it finally comes to life, it starts vibrating with notifications. The sudden influx of messages and calls catches my attention, and I can't help but feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity about what awaits on the other end of those notifications.

As I check my phone, I see about thirty missed calls from Sarah, she's asking me where I am and telling me that she's worried. Despite the notifications from Twitter and YouTube reminding me of the life I left behind, I choose to ignore them altogether.

As I quietly settle in the room, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the events of the day. Clay is in the bathroom, and I find relief in the idea of going to sleep without having to talk to him right now. Placing my phone on the bedside table next to the bed I'll be sleeping on, I snuggle under the sheets, seeking comfort in the warmth they provide. However, despite the physical comfort, my heart is racing with fear and uncertainty about what will happen.

As I lie in the hotel room, my heart feels heavy with the reality of our situation. Being here with Clay, the son of a mafia leader, fills me with fear. I try to shake off the unsettling thoughts, closing my eyes and turning towards the wall, hoping to find some peace and rest. Despite my attempts to calm myself, the weight of the circumstances we're in makes it hard to sleep. The thought of what we've gotten ourselves into lingers, and I can't help but feel anxious about everything. It's a challenging and dangerous path we've chosen, and I can only hope that we'll find a way to get through it together.

As I'm on the verge of drifting off, Clay comes out of the bathroom and calls my name. My heart quickens, both from the softness in his voice and the fear that lingers within me. Unsure of what he might say or do, I decide to pretend to be asleep.

"George, I know you're not sleeping. I can see it in the way you breathe," he says, and a rush of fear floods my body.

How is he so good at reading people?

As I let out a big breath, I realise that Clay is not the one I'm afraid of. I saw something in him today during our escape—the care in his eyes and his readiness to catch me if I fall. It's his father, the mafia leader, who fills me with terror. Being involved in stealing money from him is a scary thing, and the thought of him and his people chasing us is unimaginable.

I feel like I know Clay from somewhere, not just because of his appearance but the way he acts and speaks. It reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who exactly. This mystery adds to the complexity of our situation, and I find myself curious to uncover the truth about the familiar feeling he evokes.

I let out a sigh and tears well up in my eyes. I don't even try to hide my emotions as I turn around to face him. At first, I feel a bit stupid for crying, because he looks like someone who would mock me for crying. However, as I continue to look into his eyes, his gaze softens, and a small frown appears on his face, indicating that he understands my feelings and maybe even relates to them. At that moment, I realize that despite how tough he acts, there's more to Clay than meets the eye.

Maybe he's not that bad afterward.

Clay walks up to me and sits down on the bed, right next to my legs. As I sit up, his eyes remain locked on mine. There's a certain level of understanding and empathy in his expression that surprises me, as if he sees beyond the fear and vulnerability, acknowledging my emotions without judgment.

Clay's voice is gentle and soft as he asks, almost in a whisper, "What's wrong?" I can sense that he feels awkward for asking, considering the circumstances we're in. With a deep breath, I try to put my emotions into words, knowing that I can share my fears and concerns with him because he's currently the only person in my life.

As a tear rolls down my cheek, I blink, struggling to find the right words to express the overwhelming emotions within me. "I didn't know that running away with you would mean hiding from a mafia drug dealer for the rest of my life. I would much rather die than be on a run fr-"

He pulls me in a hug to shut me up. I didn't know that I needed a hug so much. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his shirt, inhaling the subtle hint of cologne. He smells like the beach. I close my eyes and wish we were there. Away from all this bullshit.

We stay in silence for several minutes, neither of us moving. After a while, I can't tell who's hugging who. We're both clinging to each other like we're afraid that if either of us let go we might fall.

"That's exactly why I wanted to run away, George," he confesses, breaking the lingering silence.

I immediately pull back and look at him. His words echo my own feelings, and I realize that we share a common yearning for escape from the suffocating life we were both entangled in.

"I know you might have heard terrible things about my family, and yes, most of them are true. My dad is involved with the mafia, and he's a drug dealer who changed his name multiple times to hide his crimes," Clay confesses with a deep breath, burdened by the truth of his father's actions. "It's true that I'm his fucked up kid that is a drug addict. But the one thing that's not true is that I want to follow his steps and continue the business. George, I'd rather die than become a mafia leader." His words are raw and honest, revealing the internal struggle he faces, and I can sense the weight of his emotions as he shares his truth.

I feel bad because I know that we don't choose our parents. I also have a fucked up mum. I want to tell him that it's okay, but before I can say anything he starts talking.

"I've done illegal shit, and will probably keep doing it given our situation, but I'll never become like my father," Clay admits with a hint of regret in his voice. "I'm sorry for involving you in all of this. You still have a chance to get out before it's too late, George," he adds, his eyes welling up with tears as he looks at his trembling hands.

My heart sinks. I could easily avoid getting involved in a lot of trouble if I step back now. But that's not who I am. I won't back down. I understand the risks, but I have nothing to lose. My priority is to help Clay escape from his father.

"No, I want to help you," I say with determination to assist him in reaching his goal, even though it's unclear. He nods, his face adorned with a small, appreciative smile.

"First, we have to find my dad's enemies and sell them the drugs, so we have enough money for two plane tickets to Florida, and to buy an apartment and a car there," he explains, revealing a plan I had no idea existed. "Just like that, we can start a new and fresh life in Florida, leaving the past behind."

It sounds majestic, except for the selling drugs to his dad's enemies part. For a second I get lost in the thought of living in Florida. I imagine a brand new life, away from the past that haunts me constantly.

"I'm in," I say, well aware of the chances of getting caught, either by the police or Damian and his people.

Clay looks into my eyes to make sure I mean it. A soft smile forms on his lips. Suddenly, his phone chimes, and he retrieves it from his pocket. His smile swiftly vanishes as he reads the message, his expression turning serious and concerned.

Before I have a chance to ask him what's wrong, he turns his phone around and shows me a message from his dad, saying: 'It's on, son. No matter how hard you two run, I'll catch you.'

My heart drops. It's too late to back up now.

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