8. Mila
8
MILA
I woke up with a start and looked around my room.
Dawn had barely hit, and the sky was still covered in a dark tinge of blue. The curtains in my room opened a peek, and there was a stillness in the space that scared me.
I didn’t know why that was, but I could feel my heart pounding in fear. Something inside me said to get out of bed and do… something, anything, but it just felt safer on the bed.
I shivered and pulled the covers over my shoulders.
What had woken me up?
I looked around again, but nothing seemed to be amiss in the room. Everything was exactly where I had left it.
Still… the feeling that something was off persisted.
I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep now. I had never been a good sleeper anyway. I stayed in bed for a few hours after that. By the time I could bring myself to crawl out of bed, the morning sun was up, and I felt like shit.
It wasn't until I put toothpaste on my toothbrush that I truly felt sick. I bent over the toilet and expelled all of last night's dinner, which hadn’t been much or nutritious. Tears stung my eyes, and I crouched down when I didn’t think I would be able to hold myself up any longer.
Once I was done, I flushed and closed the toilet lid, sitting down on it and feeling absolutely sorry for myself.
I didn’t know if I wanted to rage at something or go back to bed and cry.
This was all their fault. I hadn’t been pregnant for that long, and I hated it already. What kind of mother could I possibly be? It wasn’t like I had such shining examples of parents to model off of. And with no money, no job, no nothing…
I took in a deep breath, trying to stop myself from freaking out. I knew I could probably figure it out. I always do, but I was just so tired.
So goddamn exhausted.
Maybe I should just stay here and wait for them to find me. If they were even looking, that was.
What if they weren’t? Perhaps all their talk about owning me, becoming possessive over me, was just that. Talk.
I buried my face in my hands from the thought, hating the way my conflicting emotions were affecting me. Or perhaps it was just the pregnancy.
I got off the toilet and set about getting ready for my day, slowly testing the scent of the toothpaste, but it seemed the sickness was a one-and-done kind of deal for the day.
I avoided my reflection as I got ready, which took me about half an hour. All the grooming Maverick had taken me to get done was slowly being reversed. I was starting to see more and more of how I had looked before the brothers took me. I should be happy about that. I should.
The fact that I wasn’t really highlighted how fucked-up that was in my mind.
I didn’t have any big plans for the day—no surprise—but I didn’t want to be stuck in the motel for most of the day either.
I slowly made the walk over to the bus stop. Like the day before, the entire place was empty. Not a soul in sight. Unlike before, I suddenly had the feeling I wasn’t alone.
I shifted on my feet and took in my surroundings. Nothing seemed to be different, but my skin felt hot, and the hair on the back of my neck seemed to be standing up on end.
I had the same feeling when I got off the bus yesterday, but this time felt so much more intense, and I didn’t know why that was.
I nearly let out a sound of relief when the bus came into sight.
I hopped on as soon as the doors opened. The feeling of being watched followed me into town.
I hated it.
Maybe exhaustion had finally caught up to me, and my paranoia was nothing more than my imagination. I didn’t know.
Maybe the brothers found me. My heart did a slow flip-flop over the thought.
Or perhaps Sebastian and his men. If Lenny survived, then others did too, and I had a feeling Sebastian might be one of them.
My heart flipped at the thought, but this time, for a completely different reason.
I got off the bus and looked around. I didn’t know which was worse, the deserted landscape at the motel or the busy, bustling noise from so many people out and about in this place. Both had made it seem like there was nothing out of the ordinary that I should be concerned about.
Somehow, I didn’t feel reassured.
I was questioning my decision to leave the motel room today. But I was already out.
I forged on.
The feeling of being watched never left me. It followed me to a small diner where I had my lunch, and during my little window-shopping experience. It followed me into the bookstore and to the coffee shop, and it followed me when I finally called it a day and headed back to the bus stop.
The wariness of feeling like someone was following and watching me competed with my exhaustion, and it was losing. I just didn’t care anymore. Pregnancy was tiring, and it was screwing with my brain. I just… didn’t want to do this anymore.
The thought that I might have made the wrong decision to leave the motel room came back to me.
I nearly cried when the bus pulled up. The doors opened, and the same driver from my route here was in the driver's seat. He greeted me with a look of sympathy in his eyes. I must have looked terrible if I made an impression on him.
I got on and sat in the first available seat, which was near the front. I didn’t think I had the strength to walk down the aisle to the back. I didn’t know why I was so tired, but I was.
No one was seated next to me. There was hardly anyone on the bus except for a couple of people toward the back. I didn’t bother looking at them. I leaned against the window and closed my eyes.
The sound of something hard falling to the ground, plus the hissing sound of the bus when it pulled to a stop, startled me out of my sleep. I jumped and looked around just as the bus got to my stop.
I counted myself lucky that I woke up in time for this because if I hadn’t, who knows where I would have ended up, and I would have had to wait for another bus to come back… I shook my head and quickly got off.
Moisture gathered on the back of my neck, and I could feel the lunch I had earlier wanting to come back up. I held my breath for five long seconds, hoping that would keep the nausea at bay. I let it out slowly and breathed in slowly.
This was more than just pregnancy tiredness.
I was sick.
As if on cue, I could feel my throat getting swollen and my nose stuffing up.
And the heat wasn’t helping.
I blinked, suddenly feeling like crying.
Hell, since when was I so emotional?
I quickly made my way back to the motel. I barely remembered to lock the door before I unceremoniously collapsed on the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a fevered sleep. All the while, three men haunted my dreams.