wanderlust (edited)

Chapter Twelve (Pt. II): The Return

Chapter Twelve (Pt. II)

The Return
(if desired, read Chapter 12.5, which is placed after the epilogue, before reading this chapter.)

            I run and run and run.

            Through dozens of crowds, lights flash before my eyes and noises and tastes and scents all register in my mind until I become incredibly dizzy.

My throat is closing, and I can hardly see through the tears in my eyes. Nasty thoughts are running through my mind, consuming me entirely and I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I was just getting better again. Then Hunter. Then James. I am ruined.

            I keep running until I have to stop and refill my burning lungs with oxygen.

            My phone is in my pocket.

            I pull it out and dial a very familiar number.

            I only have to wait two seconds before he picks up.

            "Tara? Hey! How are you? Are you okay?" Liam's familiar voice floods into my ears, and I start to calm down. Just a bit.

            "Hi Liam," I reply hoarsely, "I'm - uh - still in New York. I-I'm not okay. I have to go home."

            "Did that son of a bitch hurt you Tara? I swear to God I'll shred him to pieces!" Liam begins ranting furiously. I don't bother interrupting. Finally, he calms down, "OK. I can get you a plane at...uh...can you make it to JFK airport in an hour and a half? I've got a flight leaving at two fifteen...I can e-mail you the ticket."

            "Y-yeah, I can do that. It's like half an hour away. Thank you Liam. Thank you so much."

            "It's no trouble for my little sister." I can detect a smile in his tone, "I'm...I'm just glad you're coming back. I mean, aside from the actual reason you're coming home."

            "Yeah..." I sniff pitifully, "Love you, Li."

            "Love you too, Tare."

            ♪

    So here I am. It's so painful, going through James's apartment with the spare key I have, chucking all my clothes into my suitcase, sobbing the entire time as my hands run over the familiar surfaces. I must looked like a wreck, which was probably why no taxis want to pick me up. Either that or they are all suddenly so busy at 2 in the morning.

    I need a ride to the airport terribly. Though it's night, I have a suitcase, and I'm wearing a damp tshirt and shorts, I decide to take the subway. I didn't want to have to destroy the shreds of dignity I still have calling Caesar or Claire or even Josie for a ride. They won't understand. They'll probably just laugh or something. Typical James.

    So I heave my suitcase behind me and start awkwardly making my way down the small slope of a road to Broadway in order to find a subway.

    I thought I feel someone grab me, but the hand is suddenly jerked away. My neck snapped up. I am terrified, but ready to fight if I had to.

    "You look familiar." A very familiar voice says. My heart drops. I hide my face, hoping he hasn't already seen it. "You okay, doll?" He gently tugs on my elbow.

    "Fine." I clear my throat, hoping it'll mask my voice. It is very loud for 2 in the morning on Broadway, but I swear I hear a very sharp intake of breath.

    I am spun around, and meet a very familiar pair of dark eyes. He'd cut his hair so it doesn't frame his face in a wind-swept looking way like it used to. He had a leather jacket on despite the raging and muggy heat the New York air provided.