Page 63 of Colton
Is it Colton? Xavier?
I’ve been driving for hours, taking random turns and backroads, desperate to put as much distance as possible between myself and the bunker. The adrenaline that fueled my escape is starting to fade, leaving exhaustion in its wake. My eyelids feel heavy, and I know I need to stop soon.
As if on cue, a sign for a small motel appears on the roadside. It’s one of those rundown places that probably rents by the hour, perfect for someone trying to stay off the grid. I pull into the parking lot, kill the engine, and sit for a moment, trying to steady my breathing.
You can do this. One step at a time.
I grab the cash and shove it in my pocket. It’s enough for a few nights, enough to keep moving. The gun in my waistband digs into my side, a cold reminder of how far I’ve come. Scanningthe area, I spot a secluded spot behind some overgrown bushes. I carefully maneuver the SUV into the hiding place, making sure it’s well-concealed from the road. With the car hidden, I feel a small sense of relief. At least now I won’t have to worry about it being easily spotted.
A yellow, musty light illuminates the motel office, which reeks of stale cigarettes and mold.
Gross.
A bored-looking man sits behind the counter, barely glancing up from his phone as I approach.
“Room for one,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just for tonight.”
He grunts, punching something into an ancient-looking computer. “Cash or card?”
“Cash,” I reply, sliding some bills across the counter.
He doesn't ask for ID, doesn’t even look at me properly. Just hands me a key with a plastic tag attached. “Room 12. Check-out is at 11.”
I nod my thanks and hurry out, relief washing over me. No questions, no suspicion. Just another nameless face passing through.
The room is exactly what I expected: cheap, musty, with faded floral wallpaper peeling at the corners. But right now, it looks like heaven. I double-check the locks on the door and windows before collapsing onto the bed.
My mind races, replaying the events of the past few hours. Colton’s face when he told me about Xavier, the sound of the fire extinguisher connecting with his skull, the panic as I fled. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it all out. What if I killed him?
Focus, Luella. What’s next?
I need to change my appearance, that’s for sure. My short blonde hair is too recognizable. And I need new clothes,something that doesn’t scream ‘escaped captive.’ I make a mental list of supplies: hair dye, scissors, some cheap clothes from a thrift store.
But first, sleep. I set the gun on the nightstand, within easy reach, and curl up on top of the scratchy comforter. Despite my exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come easily. Every creak and noise from outside has me jolting awake, heart pounding.
When I finally drift off, my dreams are a twisted mess of memories and fears. Sophia’s face, contorted in pain. My father’s cruel laugh. Xavier’s cold eyes. And Colton...Colton’s hands on my skin, his voice in my ear.
I wake with a start, gasping for air. Sunlight is streaming through the thin curtains, and for a moment, I’m disoriented. Then it all comes flooding back.
I’m free. I’m alone. But I’m hunted.
Why am I always on the run? I’m exhausted from constantly looking over my shoulder, trying to stay one step ahead. This endless cycle of running and hiding is starting to wear me down. I’m sick of living in fear, always searching for the next hiding place. There has to be another way, a chance to finally stand my ground and face what’s coming head-on.
I force myself out of bed, wincing at the various aches and pains from yesterday’s escape. A quick shower in the damp bathroom helps clear my head, and I study my reflection in the foggy mirror. The girl staring back at me looks haunted, dark circles under her eyes, lips chapped and bitten.
Time for a change, Luella.
I dress quickly and gather my meager belongings. It’s time to become someone new, someone Xavier and Colton won’t recognize. As I step out into the bright morning sun, I feel a flicker of hope beneath the fear and uncertainty.
I’m not stupid. I know that I can’t change my appearance enough to not be recognized by them, and I don’t have longenough to do it. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. A simple change of appearance won’t be enough to throw off Colton and Xavier. They’re too resourceful, too determined. I need a more drastic plan.
First things first, ditch the SUV. It’s too easily traceable. I drive it to a busy parking lot in town, wiping down the surfaces for prints before abandoning it. From there, I walk to a cheap diner, my senses on high alert. Over a greasy breakfast, I consider my options.
I could try to disappear completely—new identity, new life. But that takes resources I don’t have. And deep down, I know I can’t run forever. The desire for justice—for revenge—still burns inside me.
No, I need to face this. But on my terms.
An idea starts to form. It’s risky, possibly suicidal. But it might be my only shot.
