Please login or signup to add a comment to this paragraph.

Add comment   Close
Chelsie Motley Chelsie Motley
Recommendations: 1

Escaping Bad Love (Part 2)

Share this writing

Link to this writing

Start Writing

More from Chelsie Motley

Escaping Bad Love (Part 1)

More Books

Harley Bailey Harley Bailey
Recommendations: 29
Jennifer Killby Jennifer Killby
Recommendations: 6
The Legend of The Travelers: Willow's Journey
Georgina Connor Georgina Connor
Recommendations: 8
Amanda Krumme Amanda Krumme
Recommendations: 18
Avery King Chapter One
Leonard a. Wronke Leonard a. Wronke
Recommendations: 23
Under the Double Star - Chapter One

This writing contains explicit content and is only for adults. You have been warned.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
                                                                            Chapter 3

I got really sick of Jason Lee after the third day.

He'd been by every day around noon, bringing me the local paper (apparently we were in some small town called Damascus in Southwestern Virginia) and normal people food. The food I was, admittedly, very grateful for. If I had to go another day eating old mashed potatoes, syrup gravy, and cardboard chicken, I was going to pull these needles out myself. But the papers and the cheeseburgers weren't the problem, it was the questions, and Jason's persistance in asking them. Where'd I came from, where I was going, why I was walking in the street at 2 am. I appreciated the gesture, and I told him this, but I honestly wasn't up to sharing my life story with the man who almost left me to...

Okay, so I need to let that go.

"Jenny, are you even listening to me?" The sharpness of his tone snapped me out of my own thoughts.

I was not listening to Jason.

"Yes, Jason, I was even listening to you," I lied. I looked away again, ready to wade back into my thoughts, when he slammed his hand down on the small metal table in front of me that held my half-eaten cheeseburger and cold fries. Both jumped in the air and fell back down on the table, and my eyes shot up to him in surprise.

"Bullshit! If you heard me, then why won't you answer any of my God damn questions?" he boomed.

"Because your questions are irrelevant!" I screamed back, the frustration of his persistance finally working it's way into place.

He stares at me, and I indulge him. Neither one of us blinks, nor speaks. Then, incredulously, he begins to laugh. Full blown, histerical, thigh slapping laughter. I make it a point to glare at him until he finishes.

"Irrelevant?" he chokes out between gasps of air. "Princess..."

"Don't call me Princess." I spit back out, still glaring at him.

"Fine. Duchess, you do realize that you are in the literal middle of no where, with literally no form of identification (except for the name I fought you for yesterday), and literally no contact information to friends, or family, or anyone! I don't think there is such thing as an irelevant question in your case! You are literally..."

"If you say literally one more time, I'm pulling these needles out of my body," I spat. I sounded strong in my response, but rather than recoiling like I expected, he sighed dramatically, and rolled his eyes. Mental Note #2 of Jason Lee: he is very good at being irritating.

"You've been threatening to detach yourself since the first fucking day. Get over yourself, honey."

"Do not CALL me honey," I say through gritted teeth.

"Or what? You'll pull those needles out your body?" he asked sarcastically. I have no response, so I just return to glaring at him.

"Ms. Rhoades?" the small voice of one of the nurses poked at our starring contest. I look over, and I'm greeted with another one of those brilliantly fake cheshire grins. I was also sick of that: these God damn nurses with their high-pitched voices and their damned innocence. It's like all of them had been trained to look, sound, and act alike while on duty. In my time here being catered and poked around by them, I couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay behind their crisp scrubs and peppy smiles.

"Yeah, visiting hours. Thanks..uh..Cristie, is it?" She's smiling at me, and I feel obligued to smile back. I attempted to match her fake enthusiam, I really did, but the truth was I think I hated Cristie more than all of them. Of every nurse who had attended to me so far, Cristie was by far the most well-trained Barbie-doll this hospital could have produced, and therefore the most irritating. So, even with full effort to match her crescent moon smile, I only managed a pathetic grin.

"Yes honey! Yes, it is Cristie. I'll be back in a few to bring you some food and your medicine," she smiled, and walked out the room again. Jason's looking at me now, an expression of amusement on his face.

"So she can call you honey, but when I do..."

"Shutup. It's a nurse thing. They've all done it at least once," I respond curtly. "Look, while your here, can you go and find out when I can get out of this place? I'm sick of eating cardboard and having Barbies poke at me."

"Well, if you don't fuck anything up in the next 24 hours, I heard one of the nurses mention that you could discharge tomorrow around noon," Jason's tone is calm, but reserved, like he's holding something back. I sigh.

"What is it Jason?" I ask. He takes a deep breath before answering me.

"It's just," he begins, but gets lost in his words and starts over. "Jenny even if they discharge you tomorrow, where are you going to go?"

Oh, here we go. "What does it matter to you?" I respond.

"It doesn't!" he responds defensively. "It's just...oh what, did you really expect me to just bring you here,  then separate like you're some stranger I passed by on the street? I'm worried about you, and where you'll go. Any human would worry." Of all the emotions I expected Jason Lee to feel towards me, worry was not one of them.

"I am a stranger, Jason," I respond. "That was the plan last night: you'd drop me off here and just leave. You don't worry about strangers, you worry about people you know, people who are in danger. I'm neither of those." I pick up the newspaper nonchalantly, and started re-reading one of the articles. "You sitting next to my drugged-up sleeping body for three days was entirely your choice. I asked of no such thing from you,"

He doesn't even notice. "You know, a lot of people would be pretty damned appreciative that someone was kind enough to bring them real food and a bit of company while they were cooped up in a beeping Barbie-doll house. I didn't have to stay here, you know, you could have sat in this white-walled cell alone, if that's what you wanted." There is hurt in his voice, and I immediately start to feel guity for my tone.

I sigh. "141 Dabney Drive."

He looks at me, confused. "What?"

"That's where I was headed the other night. 141 Dabney Drive, Marion, Virginia. I planned to get on a Greyhound Bus from there and go, well anywhere away from here. Rent a cheap apartment, find a job as a waitress, live off of tips and McDonald's. It's not the dream, but it's my dream. Better than where I am now." my lie came out effortlessly. The truth was I didn't have any idea where I was headed when I started walking away from Motel 6, when my brain had temporarily taken over my conscious, but with Jason coming by everyday, I figured the question of 'where will I go next?' would come up. So I asked one of these plastic nurses where the nearest bus station was, and they very politely wrote it down on a small piece of paper: '141 Dabney Drive.' The rest fell into place as I was saying it.

"How are you going to get there? Walking?" he asks, eyebrows raised skeptically. When I nod my head yes from behind my news paper, he rakes his hand through his thick, dark hair, and sighs deeply. Mental Note #3 of Jason Lee: he's much too dramatic.

"Jenny, Marion is an hour away by car, a nice car at that. Walking it'd take days, maybe a week, and it's freezing out there..."

"You asked me for my plan, and I gave it to yo..."

"Let me take you there," Jason demands. There was no discussion or hesitation in his statement, it was more like an order. I glare at him, before responding,


"Jenny you've been in the hospital for three days now, and this is the coldest winter we've had all year," I interupt him every three words or so with a determined 'no,' but he keeps going. "Look, if you would just LISTEN to me!" he screams. I stop. He takes a long breath before continuing. "I have my truck. It doesn't make any sense for you to walk all that way, when I have a truck. I'll drop you off at the bus station, drop you a couple hundreds, and we can separate there like neither one of us existed. But don't be stupid, you won't make it 3 days in this weather."

I turn away from him, and think. I really didn't want any help from Jason Lee, and I really didn't want to spend an hour in the car with him probing me for questions. But I needed the ride, and I needed the money too. I look up at Jason's expectant eyes, and I cave.

"I'll take the ride, and $200, no more." His face cracks into a brand new smile.

"Deal," he says. He grabs his jacket then, and heads out the door without even a word. I can't help but watch him leave, wondering why such a person would be so interested in me. I don't ponder it long, though. Just as Jason is leaving, two fantastically plastic nurses enter, and I let the thought go as they begin to probe around my body again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

      CHAPTER 4

I was checked out of the Damascus Local Hospital by 11:43 on Friday, January 21st, and by noon I was watching the mountains speed past me outside the window of Jason's truck. The first five minutes we rode in silence, aside from the rattle of the truck's engine, and the wind begging to break through my glass.

"Do you have a radio?" I ask, breaking the stillness of the ride. Jason nodded his head yes, and I watched him until he continued.

"I have one, yes, but scenery this beautiful shouldn't be interrupted by music. Unless it's really good music, and I mean really good, like, better than nature itself good," he looked over, and punctuated his sentence with a light smile. His tone was as bright as his smile; he sounded good humored and free. I couldn't help but feel a little light-hearted myself. "Do you know of anything?" he asked, looking over to me briefly.

I giggle. "That's a pretty high expectation to try and meet. I think I'll pass," I reply, rather shyly.

More silence.

"So, is this your dad's truck?" I ask, once again trying to break the silence that's too good to be broken. By the looks of it, however, it doesn't annoy Jason.

"Nope," he says simply. He was still smiling. "This beautiful piece of shit is mine, payed for it all by myself when I was 19. Worked 3 summers straight to get it, and never spent a dime on anything. The summers were hell, I couldn't take girls out on dates or even go to the movies with my boys, but it was worth it to buy this baby," he patted the dashboard of the truck, and it made a unhealthy groaning noise in response. I pretended I didn't hear it.


"So where did your dad go, since the incident?" I asked. Jason looked over at me, eyebrows raised.

"Well then, look who's full of questions now," he commented patronizingly. I can feel my face get hot, and instantly decide to abort operation 'get Jason to talk.' Instead, I turn to look out the window and watch the mountains pass by, but my eyes catch something else on the way.


I hadn't taken time to look at myself in the days before the Motel 6 incident, and conveniently ignored my reflection in the bathroom mirror at the hospital. I knew I'd been through hell and high-waters, but when I see myself now, I look...almost normal. I'm black, but my skin is more of a soft, darken caramel color. My eyes are a dark green (near brown) hue, and my eyebrows are the same dark brown as the hair that frames my small, round head. There are still a few cuts and bruises visible around my chin, and under my right eye, but overall I look impressively average, pretty even, considering my situation.

"Jenny?" Jason asks, his voice snapping me back into focus. My head shoots in his direction. "Did you hear me? I answered your question."

"Can you repeat your answer?" I ask sheepishly, oddly embarrassed for being caught starring at myself. But Jason just smiles again, I wonder briefly if his cheeks every ached from smiling so much.

"I said..." he begins, but is interrupted by an obnoxious ringing tone. Jason's smile dissolves at it's sound, and his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he attempts to stear the truck while simultaneously dig his phone out of his back pocket. He checks the caller I.D. before flipping it open.

"Lee," he answers curtly. The once smiling and airy Jason Lee has been replaced with a much more stern and serious figure. It's like he aged another 10 years with the press of a button. Jason doesn't respond again into the phone, he just listens, his expression cold and unreadable. The silence is near unbearable, but I can't find myself to take my eyes off of Jason, waiting for the call to end so we can return to the light and playful mood that had been filling the space between us.

The call lasts for less than 2 minutes, but it felt like 2 hours of starring and waiting. Finally, Jason curses under his breath and snaps the phone shut. He looks over at me, and I shine the brightest smile I'd shone in the past two weeks. But instead of returning to the smiling, playful person he was just a few moments ago, his lips squeeze together tightly, and he returns his focus back on the road.

The remaining 43 minute ride is held in painstaking silence.

I return to looking at the mountains out the window, occassionally sneaking glances to my left, searching for the man that was making me smile when we first got in the car.

He never came back.

Finally, we pass the sign welcoming us into Marion, Virginia, and a few moments later the light hustle of a small town surrounds us. The Grayhound Bus Station comes into sight soon after we enter the city, and when I see it I start to gather my backpack, relieved to finally break free of this stiffling silence. I'm only carrying a water bottle, $200, and my medical discharge papers, just enough supplies to get me somewhere without starving, maybe even pay me one month's rent in a cheap apartment if I'm frugal. I start to thank Jason for everything as I pull my bag up into my lap, but when I look at him, his expression still has not changed.

And he's not slowing down.

We pass the Grayhound Bus Station.

"There's been a change of plans," Jason says cooly once the station's out of sight, the first words he's said to me since the phone call.

"A change of plans?" I ask, confused. I start to babble. "A change in....what do you mean a change of plans? Jason, we had a deal, take me to the station!" my voice begins to tremble at the end of my statement, from anger with Jason or frustration, I can't distinguish.

"Look, just trust me, okay?" he replies. He's almost pleading.

"Why don't you just tell me what's going on? What was that phone call, and why did it fuck you up like this?"

There's a pause.

"I can't tell you Jenny."

"What do you MEAN you can't.."

"Because I CAN'T, okay?" he yells. He looks over at me, and his expression softens slightly. Very, very slightly. His tone and expression are still curt and icy, but there's a touch of sympathy in there now, like he wants to tell me, but can't. He sighs. "I'm taking you to a hotel for the night."


"That's all I can say, is that we're going to a hotel," he interrupts me. "So please, stop asking me. In fact, stop talking until we get there." The sympathy is gone, and replaced, once again, with his stone mask. I don't argue with him anymore, but inside I'm seething and confused.

We ride around the little town of Marion for another hour, all of it in painful silence, until Jason finally pulls into a small, abandoned looking motel on the outskirts of the town. The sign reads 'Morgan's Inn;' a one story building, painted a light puke green that's starting to chip away, with a sloping, cracked roof. It reminded me vividly of Motel 6, and I tried my hardest not to show how much that bothered me.

Jason, apparently ignorant of the condition of this place, gets out of the car with no hesitation, and begins making powerful strides towards the door labeled 'REGISTRATION,' already pulling out his wallet to gather up money bills. I struggle out of the passenger seed, and follow behind meagerly, nearly jogging to keep up with his long legs. I get to the Registration desk well after him, and only arrive in time to hear the last remnants of the booking.

There was already a room key sitting on the desk.

"And how long do you plan to stay for, sir?" The old(er) man working the desk asks unenthusiasticaly. His pale skin seemed to have fresh wrinkles from recently entering the elderly stage, and his once black hair was now streaked with the gray of time. There was a slight hunch in his stance that added another 5 years onto his appearance, and his large hands seemed to shake uncontrollably. His dull green eyes skirted from Jason's quickly, and landed on mine. He watched me for a moment, then, after finding nothing of interest, returned his gaze to Jason.

"I'm paying for 2 nights now, but..." Jason begins to reply cooly. My eyes snaps onto him, and my brain starts talking before I could stop it.

"Two NIGHTS?! Jason, what are you doing, I have to get out of here! Grayhound is literally up the street, TAKE me there! I told you I didn't want this! I just wanted the ride and the money. I do not NEED anymore of your help, and I really don't want it. I don't have time to play your stupid ga.."

"Emily, would you shut up!" he booms, turning his whole body towards me. He wore a tight fitting blue shirt, and his body is tense underneath it. He looks so strong and frightening in that mom....wait, did he just say...

"Emily?" my eyebrows knit together in confusion, and my voice sounds weak, cracked, and confused as my mind begins to put pieces together. How could he have known my name wasn't Jenny? I never told him, I made it a point to not tell him. "How do you..."

I start to panic.

Jason does too.

With a soft curse, he slams down two hundred dollar bills in front of the kind-of-old desk clerk, and snatches the keys off of the counter before grabbing my arm and pulling me deeper into the motel. Something wasn't right, he knew something else that I didn't. I should run, I should fight him and scream and kick and cry and do everything they teach you to do in elementary school when someone tries to take you. But I do none of that. Panic had numbed my body. I let Jason drag me deeper into the motel.

We stop at room number 156. Jason thrusts the key into the slot, and turns it before busting through the door, dragging me along. The room is small and dimly lit, even with the sun shining through the tiny, dirty window on the opposite wall. There's one bed, an old television sitting on top of an older dresser, and a bathroom to the immediate left of the door. Jason slams the door shut behind me, and finally begins to slow down. I can see him taking slow, deep breaths. He's facing away from me, but I refuse to take my eyes off of him for more than a second. My breathing is ragged, and my hands are trembling. He turns towards me slowly, hands help up defenselessly, and I immediately start to look around me for a weapon of some kind. I find nothing.

Jason's mouth opens, and his voice is quiet.


"DO NOT! CALL ME JENNY!" I boom, startled by my own voice. "Do not play along with a LIE, when this WHOLE TIME you knew the TRUTH! WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW ME?!" my words come out loud and strong. It feels good to sound strong, to sound confident. It almost makes me believe I am.

Jason looks weak now.

"My Jason L..."

"BULL! SHIT!" I scream back. He's lying, he had always been lying.

"Emily....let me finish.."

"WHY?! Why, should I let you finish! EVERYTHING YOU SAY IS A LIE TO ME!" I'm crying now, and I curse myself. I use my hands and wipe at my eyes quickly, not once closing them, and leaving my guard down with this man.

This stranger.

"My name, is Jason Lee. That is the truth," he sounds eerily calm, and it makes the tears fall harder and my hands tremble more.

"Why are you here?" I choke out around the knot in my throat. He looks me dead in the eyes, and drops his hands. His expression is cold, and unfeeling. He looked frightening, and I thought in that moment I could never be more afraid of someone.

His eyes never left mine.

He breathed deeply.

"I was sent to kill you, Emily Daines."

I was so, so wrong.

Mental Note #4 of Jason Lee: never, ever trust him.


Link to this writing

Share this writing

Next: The Sands of Passing