- Steele Coming Back Prologue
- by Sinead
-
- I looked back one last time at the
familliar brown brick building. I could still hear his evil laugh.
I could picture him, horrible smelling cigar and all. I hailed
a passing cab, and told him to go to the airport. I ran my hand
shakily through my hair. I pulled out my passport, and hopped
the first flight I could to Asia. I found myself not getting
a whole lot of sleep for that week, hopping flights halfway across
the globe, stopping in Europe only long enough for me to get
a whole new set of passports. I didn't know why I bothered to
leave no trail behind, but I wasn't thinking. I didn't want her
coming after me and screwing up her life as well. Or more correctly,
screw it up even more. I knew that I had just permantly screwed
up her life.
After we were doing so well too. We finally took that next step
in our relationship. Now look at us. Me leaving in the middle
of the night like a coward. But that's what I always was. I stuck
my hand in my pocket, and felt a lump in my throat grow rapidly
as my fingers brushed the crushed velvet box. I pulled it out,
and thought of just throwing it away. Throw it away like I had
just done with my life. But I left for her. For her own good.
I had promised never to leave her for her own good, but this
was a whole new set of circumstances. A whole new ball game.
A whole new me, even. I don't even know who I am anymore. I never
did, really. But just when I finally felt that I belonged somewhere
I get kicked out. And not by anyone I thought would be doing
the kicking.
No, I got bossed around by a short, fat, ugly bald guy, who smokes
cheap cigars and is rather ruthless. The type that can give someone
a nightmare. I can still here his voice, see the triumphant grin
that he had. That look that he had when he realised that he had
beat me. Sent me running with my tail between my legs. I left,
and found myself in the middle of the Pacific. On one of those
tiny, unnamed islands. Biding my time. Biding it for twelve years.
That first year was hard. The hardest. I was constantly on the
phone with Daniel. He told me how she tried to track me down.
But I didn't tell him where I was. Not until I had given up on
being in hiding. Twelve years later.
Twelve years later I found myself back in the US. Found myself
in a motorcycle shop. Found myself buying the first one I laid
eyes on. Along with everything that I needed. I bought a nice
leather rucksack, and soon began cruising throughout the states.
Taking my own sweet time, never staying in one place for more
than a month or two. Until of course I hit California...
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