The Story of Blood and Roses

At a red light, I relaxed back into my seat and fiddled with the ring that was still on my finger. I had forgotten to give it back. I don't think I would want to give it back, either. I wanted some part of the life I had lived for twenty-five years to share with me—a part where there was no deception.

I didn't have much that I was taking with me: just a pair of clothes, my identification and the details of my new bank accounts. It had taken me a day to set it all up.

Daisy had helped considerably in getting me a new identity, again. I was causing the woman grief, but I hoped that it would give her something good in return. I know that she was going to meet Ethan again when I left. The least I could do was play the wicked matchmaker, though unknowingly, and have someone come out happy from all the mess I had gotten myself into.

Adam had been taken out of the agent training program and shifted to the hackers' department. Under Daisy's supervision, he was flourishing. I had not spoken to him in a while, but I was sure that I would get news if something bad happened to him. He would, of course, not know where I was. And it would be impossible to find me where I was going.

Daisy would know where I was, but I had sworn her to secrecy. She wouldn't tell anyone. I was safe with my secrets and my past. It was time for me to do something good.

Having these thoughts on my mind, I finally pulled the ring off my finger and placed it on the dashboard. I smiled to myself, content that it would be my last day on the continent. I planned on travelling; I planned on healing and doing something good for a change.

As the light turned green, I started my car again and started out slowly. I checked the mirrors ever so often, leaving out no bases to ensure that my last day on the continent would go without a hitch. I would not end up like the unfortunate agents who fall to their death on the last day of their service.

That is when I noticed it: the most conspicuous car on the street. It was diagonally behind me. He couldn't have followed me from the beginning, I reasoned with myself. I had been extremely careful and kept looking over my shoulders. Maybe he was just on the same street as me, within ten feet and looking at my car...

Doubtful.

I sighed, not wanting to acknowledge his presence for as long as I could. I had no intention of talking to him. I had thought that I had seen the last of him, but no he had to drop by when I was perfectly content with not thinking about him.

Was I really going to leave without telling him?

I couldn't think about it. There was no place for guilt. I had made a decision when I had asked him to stay away from me. He might not have been keeping his side of the promise, but I sure as hell would. Not that he made any such promise.

So, to avoid confusion, I did that one thing that I had artistically mastered—running away. I stepped on the accelerator and prayed to God that there would be no cop in the vicinity. To my discontent, there were no cops trying to catch up to me, but the ostentatious foreign car that looked powerful enough to bulldoze anything that came in its way.

I would have taken the cops over that, any day.

My feet seemed like they would become permanently plastered to the accelerator. My hands gripped the wheel so tight, that I felt my palms start to tingle with the lack of blood. I cursed as a car unexpectedly came at me. I swerved out of the way, hoping that I had not left an accident in my wake. On a second note, I hoped that there were no casualties, but that Anthony would get caught up in the chaos. I had no such luck. I saw him coming at me; he did not pretend to go slow.

I felt the familiar thrill trickle into my bloodstream as I saw him reach my side. Our cars were a foot apart, and a little tilt of my hands to send him crashing into the divider. I tried to push down my need to taunt him and looked straight ahead. I waited for it. At the next crossing, I took a sharp turn.

My paranoia had gotten the better of me. I had taken to living in hotels, and not putting an address beside my name. He wouldn't know that I had shifted from the apartment I had been sharing with Daisy.

I pumped my fists into the air. A millisecond later, I realized what a child I was acting like. My foot left the accelerator and the car slowed down. There was less traffic on the road. As I drove further, I felt a crippling sense of loss.

I wanted to leave all the nonsense behind, but I loved the chase.

No, you love the fact that he is still chasing you.