Stella Starlet

Afraid

Carlisle's Point of View

-

Three months.

Three months since I started looking for Stella and nothing has come up. Not a hit in the facial recognition, cell tracking, credit card usage, nothing.

It was like she completely disappeared off this planet. It was possible that she left the country. I mean, it would've made the most sense but I prayed that she was still here.

I wasn't mentally prepared to scour the whole planet. I didn't know if I would give up in that case. I would like to think I wouldn't, but frustration can change everything in the blink of an eye.

I couldn't help but to think of the worst. I was constantly plagued with the thought of her doing something incredibly stupid and she wasn't, in fact, on this Earth anymore. It made me afraid.

Afraid.

I wasn't accustomed to the feeling. After decades of being a criminal, seeing death and disaster in such repetition hardened me, making fear a foreign feeling.

But I was genuinely afraid. I was afraid that Stella was in some sort of trouble, whether it be from herself or another person, even after I took care of Enzo. I was afraid that I would never see her again.

-

Carter Adam's Point of View

-

"Alright class, you're dismissed."

After the loud scrubbing of chairs being dragged out from behind desks and shoes shuffling out of the door, the classroom was finally silent.

Adaline's seat was empty, of course. She was still in a coma after a month. The doctors were unsure of her survival, they said she had a higher chance of dying than surviving.

I stared at the empty chair. Good God, I wasn't supposed to feel this way for a student. I was her teacher and I was in a relationship.

There was something so irresistibly charming about her. Maybe it was her lips almost always in a pout or how her short hair always fell in a halo around her head.

Her eyes were a different story. Her eyes were the saddest part about her, they seemed dark. They seemed haunted with hurt that bathed in her irises for years.

She was my muse. I was able to spend nights writing about her with a bottle of whiskey. She was a work of art and I wanted my writing to do her justice by showing it.

I was going to have a gallery for my work in a couple of months, and I wanted to showcase these pieces. I was an artist and writer, my family had been in this town for generations and they owned most of the businesses and lots here.

I was debating whether if Adaline woke up, I would invite her to the gallery. She was cunningly intelligent, she would most likely be able to figure out that a lot of the pieces were about her.

If she woke up.

I opened the door to her hospital room and expected to hear silence except for the beeping of the machine.

Instead, I head soft breathing and the blankets rustling on the bed.

I gasped. There Adaline was, eyes open, staring out the window. She slowly turned to look at me.

"Adams?" She asked, her voice groggy.

I nodded and set the bouquet of flowers on the beside table and sat across from her on one of the chairs.

"Adaline, you're finally awake."

Her eyes were tired and she slowly nodded, exhaustion evident. "I should leave to let you get some rest." Just as I stood up, I felt her gelid hand encase my wrist.

"Stay."

I sat back down slowly but she never removed her hand from my wrist. Instead she linked her fingers with mine.

"Adaline, I don't think we should-"

"What do you know? About me . . . about why I'm here." She gestured to the hospital room and the cords hooked up to her.

"Drug and alcohol overdose."

Her eyes flickered as she looked away, shame palpable in her actions. She pulled her hand away from mine.

"Adaline, look at me. I'm not judging you." Her face was still turned away from mine.

So, I scooted my chair to where her gaze was and made eye contact with her. I saw a ghost of a smile appear on her lips as she turned her gaze away again. I scooted my chair again to where her gaze fell.

She laughed. "Jerk."

"You know it," I said as I gave her a grin. "Adaline, why were you at the hotel? Do you not have a home?"

She sighed. "Christ. I-I can't tell you."

"Why can't you tell me? Where's your mother that you claimed to have but hasn't been here a single time?"

"She's . . . Away."

"Away? Really, away? She doesn't exist Adaline because she would be here right god damn now sitting in this room with you instead of a stranger. Who the hell are you?" I couldn't help it that my voice raised, and I couldn't help but notice the flash of fear and remorse in her eyes.

"I'm Adaline Lennox, remember?" Her eyes were almost pleading me to just agree with her.

"Adaline Lennox doesn't exist. Who are you?" I asked once again.

"Stella," she said so incredibly quietly that if I had breathed, I would've missed it. I looked at her, waiting for a full answer.

"My name is Stella. You're right, I don't have a mother. I don't have home. I don't have anyone. You can't tell anyone about me otherwise we will be in so much danger."

"Who would we be in danger from? Who are you running from?"

"A dangerous man. If he finds me, he'll kill me. He'll kill you too. That's why you can't say a word about me or any of this to anyone."

"Jesus Christ." I put my head in my hands. I didn't know what to believe. Getting all of this information at once smacked me in the head a lot harder than I anticipated it to.

"Why is he dangerous?" I asked, trying to understand the situation more before my head exploded.

"Have you ever seen two hundred million dollars?" She asked, as if it was a normal question. "Because I have. I've kissed two hundred million dollars on the lips and then I ran away. Now, they want me back. What makes them so dangerous is the money. Money is power. Money makes the world go around, Adams."

I massaged my temples, a migraine slowly setting in. I swore. "Adaline, I- shit. Stella, so you're here hiding from him? In a small town in Washington state?"

She nodded. "I don't intent for him to find me." She finally looked me in the eyes. "And if he does, I refuse to go down without firing a couple rounds myself."