Read Listed: Volume V for Free Online Page A

He
wouldn’t be scared. He would know what happened right away.
    That
would be better.
    She
desperately wanted to leave a note, to try to explain something . She
hated for him to be hurt. But that would soften it. It would be better if he
was angry, if he hated her.
    Hurting
him now would hurt him less than he would have hurt later, when she died.
    Then,
not taking time to think or indulge second-thoughts, she climbed up on the
sink—feeling suddenly dizzy as she did so. She held on desperately until she
got her balance back, and then she unlocked the window.
    It
pushed open easily and she crawled out, dragging her heavy bag with her.
    She
was clumsy and uncoordinated—probably from the fever—and she scraped up her
hands and banged her head pretty bad on the window frame. She ignored the pain,
though, and jogged quickly down the alley as soon as she’d gained her feet.
    It
was these first minutes that were most critical.
    She
ducked into the closest subway station, just a block and a half away. Then she
stumbled her way to the underground level and got on the first available train.
    She
just needed to get far enough away that Paul and his security wouldn’t find
her, wouldn’t catch her, when they realized she was gone.
    She
experienced a blinding panic as she huddled into a seat of the mostly empty
train. This was surreal, crazy . What the hell was she doing? The fever
must have addled her brain to make her think that running away was the best
option.
    But
she kept coming back to one aching truth. It would hurt Paul less if she left
now.
    And he was the one she had to think about.
    So
she hugged her bag to her chest and tried not to cry. Her fever, for some
reason, wasn’t rising as quickly as it had last time. She could still walk,
although her head was pounding now and she was aching all over.
    But
she had a plan, and she was going to go through with it.
    Ten
minutes after she’d crawled through the window, her phone started to ring. She
knew it was Paul, so she ignored it.
    When
it kept ringing, she just turned the phone off.
    She
couldn’t help but imagine what Paul was doing, what Paul was thinking, what
Paul was feeling right now.
    And
she started to cry.
    As
she struggled to stifle her tears, an elderly woman sitting across from her
asked, “Are you all right, honey?”
    Emily
nodded wetly and managed to answer, “Yeah. Thanks, though.”
    Recognizing
one of the approaching stops, she got up to exit the train. When she stepped
off, she was stumbling, her knees buckling on every step, but she managed to
make it to a pay phone.
    She
couldn’t use her cell phone or Paul would know who she’d called.
    When
a female voice picked up on the other end, Emily rasped, “Hi, Stacie. It’s me.
Emily.”
    There
was a long pause. Then. “Emily? Are you all right?”
    “Yeah.”
Then she shook her head. She could barely see through the blur of her vision.
“No. Not really. Can you come get me? I know it’s a lot to ask after…after
everything. But I need help.”
    There
was another pause, but not as long as the first one. “Sure. Sure, I’ll help. Where
are you?”
    Emily
told her and then hung up the phone. She found an empty bench and huddled in a corner
of it, praying Stacie would get here soon.
    She
hadn’t seen her former step-sister in over six years.
    When
her father had married Stacie’s mother, the girls had been best friends, but
that friendship had broken when the marriage fell apart.
    It
had been a grief—a real grief—to lose Stacie as a friend, but loyalty to her
father was more important.
    Emily
lost track of time, falling into a feverish stupor, barely able to hold herself
upright. Her hair was bothering her, but there was nothing she could do about
it. She didn't have the coordination to find an elastic band in her toiletry
case.
    Stacie
found her like that on the bench, and her normally sharp, clever features
softened when she saw her. “Oh, hon, what happened?”
    “I’m
sick,”