Away

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The next morning, I have showered, put back on yesterday's clothes, and left the hotel while I thought the city would still be sleeping.

Around six in the morning.

As I walk down the hotel's steps, I suddenly roll my eyes at my own stupidity.

I am in the city that never sleeps.

The traffic still roars at the level it had yesterday afternoon.

The streets are still busy.

Less than yesterday afternoon.

But still busy enough that I have to swerve around tourists and people rushing around.

I wander around Times Square in an aimless daze.

I almost wish I had brought my camera with me. No matter what time of day it is, the giant flashing advertisements on the buildings around me are overwhelming.

I find an Internet cafe on a small side street. Tucked between an Italian restaurant and a pizza takeaway.

Even though it's so early, there are seven people sitting around at desks. Tapping away on hired computers.

I join them.

For five dollars, I get half an hour.

I open a private browser and log into my email account.

I told myself, after I phoned mum on the plane, that I wouldn't ever check again. I would not see what they were doing. I would not check any of my accounts. I would separate completely.

After all, I'm Alex now.

I am not the smiling, long haired Alexandra in the Facebook pictures.

And I don't want anybody to trace me.

Despite it all I open my inbox. The curiosity is overwhelming like the lights in Times Square.

Eight messages.

Five from mum.

'Alexandra, I don't know if you'll read this, but please come home. It will be okay, okay? We will find a cure. We will get through this. I am praying and I know we can cure you.'

'Alexandra, was that you on the phone? Please come home. Please check your mail. I know you left your phone at home but maybe you've for a computer. Where are you?'

I don't bother with reading the last three from her. From the previews, they just got more hysterical by the sentence. And I had already gotten one strange look from a man opposite me. When I had choked back a stupid sob.

I delete all five.

Two more emails were Facebook notifications. Telling me some people had written on my Wall. I check them on the email, but I don't open Facebook.

They could trace me.

All of the messages were from kids in school.

'Alexandra, come home.'

'We are all worried.'

'Please be okay, please be safe.'

'Thinking of you and hoping you come back soon. Stop making us panic, Alexandra, please, come home.'

I delete the Facebook emails.

None of them really care, of course.

I notice that two of them are from girls who always shoved me in the corridors. Who always knocked my books over. Who always flashed me dirty jealous looks and who always made jokes at me in the PE changing rooms.

It is a bit late for a change of heart.

There is one message left in my inbox. I don't even have to check the sender to know who it was.

It is her.

Through squinting eyes (I don't want to see, I don't want to see. And I don't want more tears to fall over her.) I read the first sentence that comes up, as a preview.

I delete it before I finish reading the sentence.

She cannot hurt me anymore. I won't let her. Not even with words sent from a thousand miles away.

I log out of my email. I shut down the computer. I thank the man sitting reading a paper by the counter.

And I walk back across Times Square again, to find the clothes store I'd seen outside my hotel window.

As I cross congested streets, I think of Kate. I wonder if I will ever see her again.

I doubt it.