Go. To. SLEEP.

Death Do Us Part.

Five months.

Five.

Five silent, normal, long months.

And there wasn't a passing day where I wasn't completely and utterly paranoid. I even reverted back to my old habits. I stopped eating... my hallucinations were worse than ever... I felt myself becoming emotionally shot... and I practically drowned myself in medication just to keep from going completely insane.

I refused to stay in one spot for too long because I was deathly afraid for my life. I even changed my appearance. I chopped all my hair off and dyed it red. I wore deep blue contacts and pierced up my face and ears. I caked makeup on my skin that was probably three shades darker than it should have been... just to hide the scars in my cheeks that constantly reminded me of what used to be. I even contemplated tattooing my entire left arm, but I couldn't bring myself to do something so permanent... which totally made sense compared to the scarred smile along my cheeks. So much sense, right?

Locally, the few people I met, such as the place I worked or went to eat, called me Alix. I didn't trust anyone enough to reveal my real name. I couldn't forget that the police were still looking for me... so I wasn't going to risk it.

New York had been my seventh move in five months, and I was fixing to leave yet again. I didn't feel safe unless I was constantly moving. There was no way I was going to settle down and give HIM a chance of finding me. I didn't have much, so moving wasn't necessarily a problem. I left everything behind when I left my... recent past.

It was terrible living in such a way, but I had no choice. Every cop that I saw walking the streets gave me a panic attack. I knew murdering those people was a huge mistake, and the guilt nearly killed me almost every single day, but there was nothing I could do to change it unless I turned myself in. But that wasn't an option. Rotting in a jail cell would give HIM a perfect set up for a torture chamber.

No. Not an option.

Every day I wondered what he was thinking. I hated thinking about him because thinking about him only made me more fearful and paranoid, but I couldn't help but wonder. Did he think about me? Is he even searching for me to begin with? What would he do if he found me? Had he already found me, and was just waiting for the right moment to strike? Was he secretly stalking me? Would he kill me one day? Was he with Alice now? Did Jane successfully kill him? All of those questions plus many more crossed my mind on a daily – no – hourly basis.

I cried a lot too. I was still so heartbroken. It seemed each day got harder for me when it came to controlling my emotions. I was nearly falling apart. I didn't know how long all of it was going to go on. I was an absolute wreck, and I found daily tasks becoming increasingly difficult. I couldn't hold a job, mostly because I kept moving. I didn't eat, and when I did, I just threw it up. I found myself getting sick easily, and I slept most hours of the day because there was no point in staying awake, only to either cry myself to death, or sulk on the couch.

My life was falling apart, and I didn't know what to do. I was lost, and I felt like nothing could make me happy. I was ready to give up completely.

That was... until I met someone.

***

The New York sun was hot, but not hot enough to warm my chilled body. New York was cold during the fall season, and my little jacket wasn't doing its job very well. I shivered as I began to move what little furniture I had out into the U-Haul truck. I picked up the last of my bags and threw them in the back of the truck. I leaned sideways on the truck and closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

A soft kiss was planted on my cheek, and I smiled brightly. I opened my eyes and turned around, hugging the man before me. He hugged me back, but so very softly. Everything he did was so gentle... so light.