The Run

111

It's around four in the morning when she wakes up. She half expects him to still be awake, fighting sleep more than he would fight for his own life, but he looks dead asleep. She stares at his face for the longest time, trying to decide if he's just pretending or if it's safe for her to move, but she gets lost in his features, as lost as she feels right now.

At least, she knows they're somewhere around Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She isn't sure how they ended up here, because that was not the plan at all, but since Josh discovered her true identity - or at least, her real name - he's kind of lost his mind. She knows most of it is due to the fact that he's not getting enough sleep (is he afraid she's going to run?) but it feels like there is something else, too. He's different. Not himself. Has he ever been? April knows she's probably never met the Joshua he was before he disappeared, but he's now another man again from the one she's learned to know these past couple weeks. He wanders now, constantly nervous, fidgety. His eyes don't seem to see what's in front of him. He's just the shadow of a man.

From New-York, he drove up north, almost reaching the canadian borders, before zigzaging all the way through Pennsylvania for days, coming closer and closer every day to his home state, seemingly pulled towards Ohio by an invisible force he constantly tried to escape from. And now here they are, only a couple hours away from Columbus... and he's finally sleeping.

She knows it now. He's sleeping tight. His breathing is calm and deep. Slowly, she moves one leg out of the bed, then the other, holding her own breath as if it would make a difference. Only when she's standing, her feet carefully on the ugly and probably dirty carpet, does she let the air out of her lungs.

Now what?

On her tippy-toes, she takes a few steps towards the center of the room. She doesn't have a plan yet, she just knows she has to do something. She can't keep on living like a hostage. She has to get out, one way or another. If it's with him alive, the better.

Her eyes scan the room. The door is closed, she won't bother trying that way, she knows he wouldn't forget to lock them in and keep the key. The window could be an escape route, but it looks old and noisy, and she's pretty sure he would wake up and reach her before she had the chance to get one foot out.

Then she sees it. He's left his bag of clothes on the floor, on his side of the bed. Is there a chance he's hidden the key in there? Maybe. Maybe not. But she'll be damned if she doesn't at least try to look into it. It's dangerous, but it's better than nothing.

She takes a careful step towards the bag, then another. Every time her foot touches the ground, she lets out a slow breath, then holds it in for the next. Finally, she reaches it... and just stands there for what seems like an eternity, unable to move anymore. She's close, very close to him, and God only knows what his anger will let him do if he wakes up and catches her red-handed.

She's seen him angry already, and it scared the shit out of her. But angrier? He could kill her. She knows it now. Joshua could kill. Has he already killed? She doesn't think so. She hopes she's right. And she holds onto that hope when, carefully, she squats to look into his bag.
When her right hand reaches into it, she glances at his face. He looks more peaceful than he has in months, and she wonders what really brought him here. He doesn't belong in shitty motels. He belongs on the road, for sure... but not like this. What happened that he felt the need to flee? From what she knows, he had life pretty much figured out. Success. Fame. Not that life achievement can only be measured by these types of goals, but Josh did seem to have everything he wanted and more. What brought him here? She only has a slight idea. Her eyes don't leave his face as she's rummaging through his stuff, hoping to find a key of some sort...

Instead, her fingers grip something, and finally she looks away from his sleeping figure to inspect a beat-up black notebook. The corners are all folded, some of the pages almost torn apart, most of them filled up by a tiny and sloppy handwriting.

Completely forgetting the reason she's taking such risks, April opens the book as if it is a treasure, and as soon as she reads the first sentence, she can't stop reading. She is snatched into it with such a force that her hands are gripping the yellowed pages as tight as they'd grip a steering wheel in a burning car. It burns like hell, and it hurts, but it's all she can think of doing. And as the words start to make some sense, her heart falls through her body, right down to her feet.

She only realizes she's crying when his warm and strong hand catches her throat and doesn't let go.

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Author's note:

My deepest apologies for the delay. I've just started a new job almost two months ago and I needed to get acquainted with it all before I could try and implement a new writing routine. Again, I can't promise I'll update as much as I did during confinement, but I'll try to be consistent. Hope you enjoy this - we're almost at the end of part 1!