Desire

-ESCAPE -

Three days later, amidst the heightened security measures, I found myself determined to break free from the confines of the sheltered fortress. Observing the routines of the vigilant guards became a subtle art, and with each passing day, I deciphered the patterns that dictated their movements.

Casual conversations during brief encounters allowed me to get close to each guard individually. Through shared small talk and seemingly harmless interactions, I cultivated a rapport that went beyond the official roles we played. They became more than just sentinels; they became individuals with stories and vulnerabilities.

As our interactions deepened, I discovered common ground and nuances in their lives, planting the seeds for a level of trust that extended beyond the professional. The carefully nurtured connections reached a point where, discreetly, I was able to test the waters of their loyalty.

With carefully chosen words and subtle gestures, I subtly bribed them into permitting my temporary escape into the city of New Orleans. A blend of empathy, understanding, and the allure of freedom coaxed them into granting me a brief respite from the guarded haven.

In the shadows of the night, I slipped past the secured perimeter, driven by a desire to explore the city that lay beyond the protective walls. I honestly needed to get some supplies for this huge ritual  to save my stubborn mate. I know that once he finds out that I'm gone he'll freak out and send out his troops to find me and bring me back to him.

I honestly didn't care about  if he would send the guards out. I told them to give me the weekend and I'm sure they would buy me that time.

As I drive into this city I can't help but feeling a bit uneasy. Like I was being heavily watched by darkness itself. I know that by the time I get there I'll have some form of contact with him and also with my mate. It annoys me that I have to go through all of this shit just to be able to be at peace. I just feel like if I don't do something I'll end up spending the rest of my mortal life in pain and remorse.

This man is so stuck on the idea that marking me would hurt me or take my life. I honestly don't see that happening, I'm pretty sure if I searched long and hard enough I could find someone who is going through the exact same thing as me. It may take a lot of time a resources. But I'm sure that if
I were to present this idea to him, he'd somewhat agree. I feel like if I win his brother over he would have no choice but to give in and provide the money for this grand research project.

Even if I don't find someone who is going through the exact same thing as me. I know that maybe there is someone who has been through it and made it to the point of marriage. Shit maybe even children could have came into the picture at some point. Either way my intention is pure.

I arrive at a hotel just a little bit outside of town, taking the time to book myself under another name. The funny thing is that I had gotten a fake id about three years ago in hopes of sneaking into clubs and getting the perks of a grown woman. Now it's even better because I can be another person when I wish to be.

Arriving at the hotel, just a stone's throw from the bustling heart of New Orleans, I felt a sense of anticipation and liberation. With practiced ease, I approached the reception, donning the persona associated with the carefully chosen alias on my fake ID. The receptionist, oblivious to the dual nature of my identity, efficiently processed the check-in, and soon I found myself armed with a keycard that held the promise of anonymity.

My footsteps echoed in the lobby as I navigated the maze of hallways to find my designated room. The rhythmic hum of the elevator carried me to the desired floor, where a corridor lined with numbered doors awaited. The anticipation heightened with each step, knowing that within these walls, I could temporarily shed the weight of responsibility and secrecy.

The metallic click of the keycard sliding into the slot marked the beginning of my brief escape. The door swung open, revealing a space where I could momentarily be someone else. The scent of fresh linen and the hushed ambiance greeted me as I entered, closing the door behind me.

The room, a temporary haven, bore no traces of the guarded existence I left behind. It became a sanctuary where I could revel in the anonymity granted by the false name on the reservation. The sense of freedom and the anticipation of embracing the vibrant life of New Orleans filled the air, inviting me to explore the city with the newfound liberty that only a hidden identity could afford.