.....I closed my eyes for a moment before I started to wash the dirt, and memories, off my pale skin.
     There was a knocking on the door, a steady THUMP THUMP THUMP that wouldn't let up. Maybe it was the concierge knocking on the door. Why wouldn't he stop knocking? The water was cold now, and I was sucsesfully chilled straight to the bones again. I checked though the peep-hole on the door. No one was there, but the knocking wouldn't quit. It didn't seem to be comming from the door now, it sounded like it was the room next door. OH GOD. This is a cheap hotel, the THUMP THUMP THUMP is a bed hitting the wall repeatedly as a prostitute earns her money.
     "Hey! Do you think you can move the bed away from the wall? I'm trying to sleep!" I called to the room to the north of me.
     "Sorry,” the woman called. English wasn’t her first language, I could tell. I wrapped myself into the soft white towels hanging in the corner of the goolden bathroom. As I walked to the bed I wondered what time it was. The clock on the end table said 5:00 p.m. I had slept for an hour and a half; that wasn’t too bad. The curtains were not covering the world’s view into my bedroom. I had always has a problem when Jon would open the curtains on my bedroom window. That was one thing I didn’t miss about my brother.
     I pulled the curtains together, and then went back into the bathroom. I dug through my bag to find a pad.
     “SHIT!” I screamed. I didn’t bring any. I quickly found a new pair of underwear, and put them on. Then I rolled up some of the paper towels that the cleaning lady left in there from the last time she cleaned this room, and used that as a pad until I had time to go shopping. I began getting dressed again, slowly, because my body still ached. I wore the other pair of jeans that I had packed, and then put back on my blue V-neck. I quickly covered up my bruises, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I grabbed my wallet, and started out the door. I had some serious shopping to do.
     As I left the hotel, the concierge noticed me walking out the door. I put my hood up and pretended I was someone else. I had much bigger worries than him.


Chapter Three

     “Good evening, Miss,” the Wal-Mart greater announced. She smiled at me. She was an elderly woman, mid fifties, and she was very short.
     “Hello ma’am. Can I ask you where something is?” I asked politely.
     “Of course you can. That’s my job.”
     “Where are the feminine products located?”
     “Oh, they are over there to the left in the pharmacy section. They are along the back wall by the aisles with deodorant and shampoo.”
     “Thank you very much ma’am. You have a great day now, okay?”
     “Thank you dear,” she smiled sweetly again.
     I walked to where the pharmacy section was, and quickened up my pace to the back wall. I grabbed the big value-pack and put it into the hand basket that I grabbed at the front door. While I was there I got a cheep pack of underwear, some laundry detergent, and a stain remover. I used the self check-out; I really didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. Once it had been purchased, I went into the bathroom and took care of my monthly visitor.
     It was 6:30 now, and I wondered if the concierge was over with his shift, and hopefully he was replace with a sleeping elderly man that I wouldn’t have to talk to. I didn’t want to take the chance, so I decided that I would go have a fine dining experience at the McDonald’s that was conveniently located inside the Wal-Mart store.
     There was a line already formed when I got there. The man in front was in a suit, and was trying to use an expired coupon that the cashier couldn’t take. Behind him was a woman in her thirties, with a baby on the hip, and a three year old hanging off of her leg. The little boy was crying because his mother told him that she wasn’t going to buy him a cookie. Behind her was another woman, talking on her cell phone. She was talking to her husband, asking him what he wanted her to get for each member of their family.
     I got in line behind her. The boy working at the counter seemed very nervous and preoccupied. He had bad acne, and looked goofy in the traditional McDonald’s uniform. His nametag read “Jon.” It reminded me of my brother.
     “May I help you, please?” he beckoned.
     “Yes, may I have a chicken nugget meal, with a sprite? Make it to-go please.”
     “Coming right up. Thank you for choosing McDonald’s. Have a nice day.”
It took only a couple of minutes to cook everything up. The boy handed me one of those paper cups that only last thirty minutes before the drink soaks through. I filled it up with the warm soda that oozed its way out of the dispenser, and headed back to the hotel. This was the only night that I could stay in a public place; Father would call the police and report me missing after forty-eight hours. I walked back into the hotel, and the concierge was still working.
     “I thought you would have called room service, Jane,” he called to me. I took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.
     “Oh, I was going to get settled first. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Of course, I wouldn’t. I had to be out of the public eye but noon tomorrow. The news would be plastered tomorrow evening with my face. I could see it now.
     Missing Girl, seventeen, black hair, fair skin. Name, Lisa Mathews. Father stricken with grief. I giggled.
     “Stricken with grief my ass,” I said out loud, laughing.



Part Five posted! Check it out to keep reading!