Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 33

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 33 - Trying To Escape It)

One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right.

There is a noise in my ears that will not cease. There is a desperation in my heart that will not fade. I focus on my steps to distract myself from thinking about how I was pinning my hopes on this meeting without even realising it; how I had set myself up to beg for her forgiveness, I had just been too naive to see it.

I reach the lift and press the button, and then take the stairs instead anyway. I keep my head bowed, praying no one will recognise me. The last thing I want to do is pose for pictures with fans. That's the downside of being public property - it's never about what you want or how you're feeling. It's all about their moment. Which is fine, most of the time. Just not when you're on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

I manage to avoid eye contact with anyone and scuttle through the lobby and out to my car without interruption. I get in the driver's seat, close the door behind me and press the central locking button immediately. A deafening silence ensues. 

Now what?

I raced all the way here on a whim, and didn't give a thought to what I might do next. I've just driven four hours in the car from London, and the thought of facing another four hours back, having to concentrate on the road, and other drivers, and the route, makes me want to scream. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and give in to my emotions. I don't know what to do.

I call Mum but she doesn't answer, and I know Gemma is working today. I feel lost.

I call my PA, and tell her where I am, and ask her to book me into a hotel nearby just for the night under an alias. My body feels like a dead weight all of a sudden, and I need to lie down and close my eyes and forget everything. I feel inexplicably exhausted.

She calls back in less than five minutes and tells me the name and address of a hotel. I don't know if I even thank her - I punch the postcode into the sat nav and reverse out of the parking space, drive around the small car park and turn onto the road. The traffic has eased a bit, and it doesn't take me long to reach my destination. As I turn into an underground car park my surroundings look vaguely familiar, but it isn't until I approach the check-in desk that I realise it is the same hotel we stayed in when we performed here a few months ago.

The night I sang to Jess in front of the entire stadium.

The night I told her I loved her.

Fuck.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"Um, yeah, Mick Greenberg," I reply, clearing my throat. The receptionist taps on her computer while I silently pray for a different room to last time. Or the same room. I don't know if it's what I need, or if it would break me.

She hands me my key card and directs me to the lift, which brings me out on the top floor. I walk all the way to the end of the corridor, my heart pounding, and slip my card into the door.

It's the same room.

Of course it is.

I let the door shut behind me, throw my keys onto the table and sink down onto the bed. I close my eyes and try to shut out the memories of the last couple of hours, but they keep coming back to me. 

Why are you here, Harry? I told you I didn't want to see you.

My boyfriend is coming up tonight from London.

I loved you, Harry.

It doesn't exactly come as a shock to me that you've taken drugs.