One More Mistake

As the night wears on and the hours pass, my eyelids feel heavier, and I know that I should get off the road. So I find the nearest hotel and check in using the credit card that my parents had provided me years ago.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m one of those kids whose parents give them anything and everything that can be bought. But not necessarily the things you really needed in life. And I guess you could say my dad is a successful lawyer, but then again, all of that success and wealth came with a price. Our family. Maybe it was the month-long business trips or the never ending list of things he had to do before he could spend time with us that tore us apart. Or maybe me. But that really is a different story, and I’m really not in the mood or state of mind to be thinking about that.

When I haul my luggage into the elevator, an overwhelming sense of loneliness consumes me. I don’t even really mean to collapse on the floor and bury my face in my hands, but I do. The same question keeps going through my mind over and over again: What am I doing?

Just as the elevator doors are about to close, a man steps in. He stands right in front of me and lightly taps my shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a British accent.

I look up at the man. Middle aged with brown hair. He has a look of concern in his eyes, and I instantly realize how pathetic I must look. I shake my head and quickly get up, muttering words of apology.

“I’m fine,” I reply, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’re a bit young to be travelling by yourself, aren’t you?” he says, pointing to my luggage.

“Travelling? More like escaping,” I mutter.

I’m not sure why I’m telling a stranger this, but it’s too late to really think straight. When I finally gather up the courage to look him in the eyes, he reminds me of my mom, looking at me as if he knows I’m doing something wrong but too afraid to say anything that will piss me off. But I wonder why he seems to care so much for my well-being. I guess he’s just one of those fatherly characters.

Suddenly, a boy who looks about my age walks into the elevator.

“Paul, is our luggage already in the room?” he asks the man.

“Yes, I was just heading up there myself. Where are the rest of the boys?” the man, who is obviously named Paul, says.

“Parking the car. They’ll be here in a few minutes, but they said to just go up without them,” the boy replies.

Paul nods and turns to me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like an overbearing stranger, you just seemed a little uneasy. I’m Paul Higgins, by the way. And this is Liam Payne,” he says, gesturing towards the boy.

I shake hands with him and smile for the first time since I left my house. Not a very convincing smile, but a smile all the same.

“Nice to meet you. My name’s Katherine Everett,” I reply.

Liam obviously notices my blood-shot eyes and tired voice as I speak because he looks concerned as well.

“You look exhausted. Do you have a room to sleep in?” he says.

“Yeah, but I’m fine. Just tired from driving,” I reply.

“I know how you feel,” he says understandingly.

“Well, it looks like we all need some sleep. We’d better let you get to your room. What floor are you on?” Paul says.

“12,” I reply.