It's near dark by the time we get there.  Brendon was right.   It's not busy and besides us, there're about ten people, including the 5 person staff.  We even got seated at a booth.  Occasionally, he would glance at me from his menu on the other side of the table.

"What are you getting," he asks.

I sip my tea.  "Nothing, I'm good."

He sets it down.  "Why not?"

"Not hungry."

He looks around to make sure no one's in our proximity, then whispers "If this is about the money -"

"It's not."  I cut him off.

He nods.  "I also thought you'd enjoy the setting.  Wanted something casual, you know.   It's nice and hushed, like you."  He smiles.

He's gonna keep doing this.  There will be similar days because he believes eventually, I'll break down and say that I love him back.  They tell you to separate fact from fiction, but Brendon's trying to merge the two.  Either way, he'll keep dissociating from reality and it'll get to a point where one day, he'll wake up and believe we're together.  He's persistent.   Infatuation is one thing.  Love is a precedent for obsession.  And that can lead a person to do dangerous things. Hell, he could be planning a shotgun wedding right now.

"I know you're into the whole 'only talking when necessary' spiel, so I was thinking... next time, we could go on a quiet night drive.   Just you, me, and some music."   He grins.

Brendon's hand crawls closer to mine until he has a light hold of it.  I stare at it, watching his fingers dance around my idle ones.

I set my cup down.   "What's gonna happen when Sarah gets back?"

The grin turns into a brief expression of sadness as if he forgot Sarah existed for a moment.   It's not love or hate, it's just indifference.

I guess that's what happens when you ditch your wedding ring for long enough.

"Uh, you know."

No, I don't.

"We could still see each other.  It'll only be a matter of time before she leaves for her next trip." He drinks his coffee.

He's counting down the days.

I drink what's left, and rest my cup on the table.  "I need to use the bathroom."  I slip my hand from his and leave the booth, heading to the ladies' room in the back.   I use the bathroom and roll my sleeves a bit to wash my hands.   When I coil my right sleeve, I pause, then pull it back entirely.

Strange to see it so... plain.

I roll it down halfway and wash my hands.  As I grab a paper towel and dry my hands, I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I really don't know what Brendon sees in me.  He's wealthy with a large home and loving wife, and every day I'm one step closer to being put out on the streets by my black-out drunk excuse for a grandparent.  He's not trying to help me, is he?  That's honestly the last thing I need.

I run my fingers through my hair.

Maybe I can make myself appear undesirable.

As I'm intentionally messing up my hair, I see something in the reflection of the mirror.   An open window.  I turn to get a better look at it.  I'm too short to stand on my toes to reach it, but if I jump, I should be able to.  I head over until I'm standing right underneath it, bend my knees, and jump.  My hands grab onto the sill and with my core strength, I pull myself up until I can get my full arm out of it, then swing my leg over, then my whole body.  I drop into an alleyway outside the restaurant and head into the street. It's pitch dark now.  Once I'm across from the restaurant, I take out my phone and shut it off completely so Brendon doesn't call me.

As soon as I think I'm in the clear, the sound of "Callie!"  from the other side of the street redirects my focus and I freeze when I see who it is.

Shit.

Brendon's standing there now and we're both frozen in place.

Gotta think, gotta think, gotta think!

A 16 - wheeler is about to pass and when it does, it blocks our view from one another, so I run.   By the time it passes completely, I'm on the adjacent street, still running.

I sprint as far as my legs can carry me.  Every time the thought of stopping crosses my mind, I hear Brendon shouting my name in the distance.  He's coming for me.  I have no sense of direction.  I run in the opposite way of his voice.

"Callie!"

I dash into the entrance of the park and hide behind a tree, catching my breath.

"Pardon me," I hear Brendon nearby, but I'm out of his view.  "Have you seen a young girl, or anyone, running around here?"

"Oh, yes" a woman replies.  "She just ran into the park.  Couldn't have gotten far."

Fucking snitch.

I continue farther and my heart pounds in my ears, lungs begging for oxygen.

"Callie!"

I rush to take off my jacket to derail him from me.  When I do this, I drop it on the ground and keep running.  I swerve from the road into the woods, dodging trees and jumping over roots.

Brendon's voice is not far behind. "Callie!"

At a point, I look back to see where he is.  This is my downfall -- literally.  I trip over my own feet and tumble down a hill.  My body rolls as the mound declines until my head hits the hard dirt covered by leaves at the bottom.  My head is throbbing and I let out a groan.

"Callie!" I hear him from the top of the hill.

I lie still, breathing shallowly through my nose.

"Cal-".  He stops pacing and I suspect he's found me.   But then I hear steps receding from me. Farther, farther, and farther until I can hear them no more.

I'm sure he's gone now, right?  He has to be.

Trying to make as little noise as possible from the rustling leaves, I slowly pick myself up.  The world starts spinning and my steps falter a bit before I regain rigidity.  I feel a warm substance sliding from my nostril and touch it.  My nose is bleeding but that's the least of my worries.   I need to get out of here.   The slope I tumbled down was pretty steep but I think I can make it back that way.  My body aches with every limped step.   My back emits a sound crack and I fall to one knee, exclaiming in pain.   I hold a hand over my mouth and stay there for a bit, listening for any other sounds in case Brendon decided to stick around.

Nothing. He really must be gone.

As a precaution, I press my lips tightly to keep from wincing as I stand methodically.  My back cracks again, but not as much.  The pain is still excruciating as I slowly start walking up the hill. At one point, I slip and almost fall again, but I drop on my hands for support and crawl the rest of the way out.  I rise on my feet when I make it onto the path, looking all over the ground.

Of course, he took my hoodie. Whatever, fuck it.

I limp down the road of the park, holding my side and following the signs until the entrance is in my line of vision.  Once I'm outside the park, I stand on the sidewalk and hold my arm up, signaling a taxi.  It pulls up and I get inside.

"Rough night, huh?"  The driver says.  I look at the license on the back of the front seat.  His name is Pete Wentz.  "Where're you headed?"

"East 12th Street."  He pulls out and drives.

"You sure you don't need a doctor or anything?"

I touch the now - crusting blood on my nose and shake my head.  "Just fell down a hill."

"Nasty fall.  A bit far away from home, aren't you?"

"Long story."

"Probably shouldn't get into it.  Wouldn't want you to pass out mid-sentence."

With a sigh, I rest my head on the window that I noticed was tinted when the taxi arrived.  Still, my body tenses when we slow down and stop at a traffic light when something makes my heart skip a beat: Brendon's sitting on a bench, clinging my hoodie in his hands, caressing it like an old photograph.

He'll hate me today, but hopefully, move on by tomorrow for his sake.  And mine.

We drive on when the light turns green and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I mean, what's he gonna do?  Put out a missing person's report?  No, Callie, don't even think about it.  That'll be the next thing he does.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here's good."

Pete brings the car to a smooth halt.  "You sure?"

"Yeah," I fish $25 from my pocket. "I live down there."

"I can take you down the block."

"It's fine."  I hand him the money and exit the cab, giving Pete a small wave.  When he drives away, I limp down the block, my house in viewing distance.  The pain isn't as terrible but still lets me know it's there.

I open the door and see Billie passed out drunk on the couch.  Normally, I'd flip my Uncle off, but I guess I should count my lucky stars that he's not awake.  I hold my back and trudge upstairs to the bathroom and lock the door, then let out a groan.  I turn on the shower and stumble upon my reflection.   The girl staring back at me has a purple bruise on the left side of her face, stopping just below her eye.   It doesn't hurt.   My nose isn't broken, but there's a mixture of dry and fresh blood leaking from it.   There's dirt in my hair and on my clothes.   I take a towel and lean my head forward, squeezing every last drop.  When finished, I throw the towel in the hamper and remove my shirt.   There's a large purple mark on the side of my body, going toward my back.    I lightly touch the area and wince, sighing deeply.   There's also a contusion just below my knee.

I turn my phone on and set it on the sink, then step into the tub and stand there against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting in it, watching as a mixture of brown and red flow into the drain.

After I'm done, I step out and dry myself with a nearby towel.  I reach into the hamper and retrieve out some old relaxing clothes, putting them on and see a bunch of notifications.

Brendon: 4 missed calls

Brendon: Where'd you go?

Brendon: Call me

Brendon: At least let me know you're okay

I head to my room, locking the door and lie on my bed, staring at the screen.  I sigh as I turn the phone off and put it face down, then shut my light off and pull the covers over my head.