Page 153 of Don't Leave Me

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HANA.

As I hugged Billie goodbye after dinner on the cold New York street, I could feel bile rise in my throat. I didn’t want to let her go – I was too terrified to go back to the loft with Jack. Before we left, I had an overwhelming sense that he somehow knew what was going on, but I wasn’t sure how he knew – I could just tell by the look in his eyes and the way his tone shifted when he talked about me not being able to keep secrets. I barely touched my food but I was ready to projectile vomit everywhere. I shouldn’t have told Billie. I should have just made a run for it when I had the chance. But seeing Billie’s knowing eyes in that bathroom, Ihadto tell her. I knew she was the only person that would have enough logic, calmness, and organization skills to help me – besides Michael, but he wasn’t an option at the moment.

We walked the block back to his apartment in silence as Jack held onto my hand tightly. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to act oblivious to his knowing or just keep quiet. It was so hard to read him right now.

We entered the lobby of his building and walked up the three flights of stairs, my legs feeling like jello and my stomach flipping and turning with dread. Jack opened the heavy door to his loft and I walked in first, my eyes to the floor the whole time. I could hear Jack bolting and locking the door behind him.

“Are we really going away for Valentine’s Day?” I asked casually, almost with a smile as I shrugged my coat off.

I turned to look at Jack and I suddenly felt a blow to my face – Jack’s hand had hit my cheek with full force and knocked the wind out of me as my weak legs tumbled underneath me. I hit the floor on the side of my ass as I put my hand up to my raw face, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. I looked up at Jack, my eyes wide and terrified as I stared at his angry, wild eyes.

“That was the worst fucking possible performance you could have given, Hana,” Jack snarled, staring down at me with a pointed finger. “You acted like a battered wife. You hardly said a word! What the fuck did you say to her in the bathroom?” he interrogated, his voice getting louder.

“I didn’t tell her anything! I told her why I broke up with Michael and asked her more details about her and John. We just had a heart to heart but I said nothing bad about you!” I answered quickly, my lines already rehearsed in my head on the silent trek back.

Jack stared at me for a moment. “We are not going to see Billie, ever again. I don’t trust her, and I don’t trust you alone with her. She clearly has a strong dislike for me,” his voice was calming down now.

I wanted to burst into tears. My plan was going to fail.

“That’s not true. Shedoeslike you. She didn’t like Michael – that’s why we didn’t talk for so long,” I lied, tears streaming down my face as I still sat on the cold floor.

Jack stared at me again. “I hate hurting you, Hana. I’m sorry,” he said sweetly, his tone soft as he reached his hand down to me.

I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I quickly took his hand and lifted myself up, staring at him and waiting for his next move. For all I knew, he could have been ready to hit me again.

“I didn’t say anything,” I offered quietly, looking him right in the eyes and lying to his face.

Jack observed me before he softly put his hand up to my raw cheek. “Okay, love,” he responded, just as quietly.

I didn’t hate Jack anymore. I was scared of him, and I didn’t want to be there, but I felt pity for him. He clearly had severe mental issues (much worse than mine – which somehow made me feel like the sane one) and I was unlucky enough to become an unhealthy obsession for him. He had hurt me worse before – I was just grateful that he didn’t pull the gun out again. I could feel myself starting to lose hope and realized that I somehow needed to make this work. This was my life now – I would always be a slave to Jack. I had to live my life with him, and I couldn’t live with the false hope that I’d someday be with my Michael again. I could feel my lip start to quiver – I tried not to think of Michael at all anymore. I had to push him out of my mind whenever he came up (hundreds of times a day) because even just the thought of his face made me feel like I had a thousand tons of bricks pushing against my chest. And after all, this was my fault. If I had never agreed to secretly meet with Jack, maybe I’d be sitting at home with Michael next to the fireplace. I felt a lump form in my throat and I pushed the image back.

“Either way, Hana, Billie acted very suspicious. She doesn’t buy us together. I don’t want her coming around asking questions, so we’re going to stay somewhere else for now,” Jack explained quickly, grabbing my duffle bag from under the bed.

I stood frozen. Jack had outsmarted me once again.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. We’ll go upstate somewhere, get away to somewhere secluded. Maybe Lake George, I’ve heard it’s lovely in the winter,” he looked up at me and smiled, as if this were some sort of treat for me.

“How long are we going for?” I went on, still frozen as I watched him throw all of my clothes into the bag and most of his in it as well.

“I don’t know, Hana!” he snapped. “We just need to go. Go on, grab your coat. We’re going to take the subway up to 34thstreet and take a train or bus to the first place we can go,” he thought aloud, then zipped up the duffle bag as I hurriedly shrugged on my coat and scarf again.

If we leave this loft, no one will ever find us. I will be stuck with Jack forever. Please, Billie, please be doing something right now.

Jack quickly opened the safe, grabbed a brown paper bag and his gun, stuffed them into a backpack, and then outstretched his hand for mine. He seemed panicked and nervous. I took his hand and we nearly ran out of the building and headed straight for the F train.

37

Chapter 37

It was almost midnight as we stepped onto the Greyhound bus headed for Albany. Jack carefully stuck our duffle bag into the overhead compartment above our seats and wedged his backpack in the space between his body and his window seat. My eyes were heavy, but my heart was heavier. I felt like a zombie as I sat down, my body weak and limp, my stomach permanently in knots. Jack had me withdraw $2,000 from my debit card in the bus terminal lobby and then he withdrew $2,000 from his. I had no idea how much money Jack made or had saved up. He was a painter and a musician for a living – I didn’t think he had made that much. I wondered if he knew how much I had – of course, not in my debit account, but a savings in a bank in Greenwich. We had bought our bus tickets with cash – did Jack do that on purpose? Maybe he didn’t want to leave a paper trail of our whereabouts.

I couldn’t find a comfortable position as my mind raced on the Greyhound. I watched as we headed north towards Albany, the city lights flashing before my eyes, my home city now feeling like a prison to me. Jack looked out the window as well, seeming to be in deep thought as he traced his fingertips on his lips, his other hand in a fist on his thigh.I wish I had access to my phone, or any phone, just to tell someone where we were headed.Jack could be planning a murder suicide at this very moment. He got spooked by Billie and now he’s going to shoot me then himself. For some reason, the thought comforted me.

An hour into the trip, I could see Jack’s eyes start to close. We hadn’t said a word to each other and my eyes were not going to shut – all I could see every time I closed my eyes was Billie’s panicked face as I told her what was going on, or Michael’s heartbroken face when I told him I didn’t want him anymore. There was also nowhere for me to go even if I wanted to; Jack now had his hand to my thigh, almost clenching as if to keep me there. The Greyhound was dark and there weren’t many people aboard. I decided to rest my head on Jack’s shoulder and I somehow, in an instant, fell asleep.

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