"Metta, I need you to get up." An anonymous voice pleads quietly with me, I can almost recognize it but not quite yet. "Metta. I want you to come somewhere with me, get up."
No. Scratch that, the voice is so familiar it makes my insides twist. He's not supposed to be here, not today, I still have ten hours left. Correction, nine hours and fifty-three minutes.
"I don't need to get up, but you, you need to leave. Now." Even though I try so hard, I can feel the desperation creep into the carefully placed malice of my voice. Pitiful.
"No, Metta, we need to leave. Let me take you home." Somethings wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. His tone, his words, his proximity, all wrong. There is no home for me, hasn't been for awhile. "Don't you want to go? If we leave soon we can make it to the airport in time for the next flight. If not, there's another flight in three hours, which i'm thinking will be necessary because, honestly, you smell. Not to mention you're the type to take forever and a day to pack." He babbles, and his words are well meaning but they leave my head in chaos. Home. Incomprehensible. Home is the next hotel we stay at. Home is him now.
"Where? Where is home Tayllor? I'm sick of moving when i'm not the one who's made the mistakes. Today's not the day to play this game, Tayllor. Not today." There's a dangerous edge to my voice that's unmistakable, but I know there's also undeniable weakness, if I feel like if I speak another word the whole world will melt away in my eyes and my guard will be down. "Not. Today." I can feel the intensity of his gaze, he's always had quite the temper and he struggling now to keep it in check. I can feel it, he knows he shouldn't have come here today. I'm unmanageable.
"Emmett, Metta. I'm not going to waste my day away. Either you pick yourself up and get in the car or I will leave. I will change my mind, and make no mistakes darling, the rules will not bend again. Not for you, not for anyone, under any circumstances." I was right to say he was growing impatient. I could nearly feel him shaking in rage. I finally open my eyes to look at the man in front of me. He's being honest, but I've known that since he started speaking. His anger is vanishing and in exchange his face shows pure and wholeful pity. He wants this to end. For the last three years he nearly dies watching me so miserable, watching me suffer. His bronze arm extends and he holds his hand in mid air, wanting me to take it. I do.
We walk out of the destroyed hotel room and we split. Me for the black Jetta and him for the information desk, dealing with my mess. Shocker. Surprisingly, my mind is completely blank. I can feel my heart beating but so far, my thoughts elude me. One name is the only thing going through my mind. The only thing that continues to race across my brain and fill my imagination with images, memories. Peyton.
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