Chapter Seven

"Hello, good morning." I squeezed my way through the door, and past the huge man that was standing at the door. "Bye!" I picked off like someone in a sprint race.

"Hey, come back!" He yelled at me, but I was already many feet ahead, racing down the hill. "Come back, how did you get in here?" That was the last thing I heard him say, and then a gunshot followed.

My breath hung in the air for a few seconds, my heart paused. I didn't feel any pain, I didn't see the bullet either. I kept running.

I ran farther down the path, until I got to a sharp bend and took a few strides down. Taking a quick pause, I glanced at my back. He wasn't coming after me. I sighed with relief, and slowed down my pace. I was trying to catch my breath, and to think straight too.

Meeting the strange man was a miracle, and I was glad I met him. Infact, everything that happened there was a miracle, including how he had gotten drunk, and how I escaped the stout man that was knocking.

Peter Mack scared me when he said that the news was all over social media, but now that I knew it wasn't, I was no longer mad at Shully. Infact, I couldn't wait to speak with her again. It's been so long since I last saw her. Just twenty four hours, but it felt like twenty four years.

How disgusting of my father to tell people that he had access to me?

According to Mr Peter, my father knew I was in this city. He knows I am lodged in that hotel. My next move was so uncertain, it wasn't wise of me to go back to the hotel.

But I was going to take the risk, and go back anyway.

It took me less time than I imagined to get to the hotel.

"It took you forever, I got worried about you and your father. Thought you got into trouble with him." The first person that met me was my attendant friend.

"No, I didn't get into trouble with him ma'am. The thing is that he just got back from where he traveled to, and needed to see me urgently." I returned the weird smile she gave.

"Really?" A frown replaced the smile she was wearing. "Peter Mack is your father?" The attendant drew closer to me, and asked with a whisper. Hadn't she already called him my father, didn't he tell her he was my father, why was she asking me again?

I lost my voice, my eyes portrayed fear. Her question suggested one thing, that she knew Peter Mack. He must be famous then, famous for what exactly?

What was I thinking telling her that he was my father? None of these would be happening if I hadn't believed his stupid story earlier this morning.

"Uhhm, I have to go now." I finally said, after I took seconds to gaze into blank space.

"Is there anything you aren't telling me, dear?" She looked really worried.

"Nothing! It's none of your business, after all. I have to go now." I walked briskly up the stairs, lots of new questions going on in my mind.

"If you need help, don't hesitate to reach out! I'm miss Sandy." She called out to me, but I didn't pause, neither did I respond. I didn't act like I had heard her. Steadily, I trudged my feet forward. One at a time, until I was in front of the door to my hotel room.

I put the key to the room in, and twisted it open. Glad I had locked the room before leaving, especially because I wasn't expecting to walk such a long distance with a stranger.

It was then that it came to my realization that I had walked such a long distance with a rapist, wearing my night dress.

Who cares anyways?

I was safe until I was able to figure out what I wanted to do next, and where I wanted to go from the hotel.

There were a couple of clothes lined up in the closet, some would fit in for both a male, and a female. Some were strictly male apparels, the others were female clothings.

I took my time to go through them, and I succeeded in picking out a pretty dress that fitted perfectly. A blue midi gown, stained white. I'd probably go around with the loafers provided to me by the hotel, since there were no casual shoes available.

I headed for the shower, and I was done in a few minutes. And then I wore the dress, and settled on my bed. I knew just what I was going to spend the day doing.

Not over thinking,

Not worrying,

Not bothering what I'd do next.

I was going to spend the day texting my friends, and speaking with Shully.

I turned on my phone, and went to the social media apps. It felt like a decade. For someone who used to be an internet addict, and a social media freak, twenty four hours was the longest I had ever stayed without using my phone. You wouldn't blame me, it was my get away. I used it to distract myself from my sad reality. Well, not anymore. I have walked out of that reality, and I'm never going back again.

I checked my tags on all social media I was on. And confirmed that Peter Mack was telling me lies when he said Shully had posted about my affairs with my father.

Next, I headed for my inbox. Over three hundred new messages were unread. Birthday messages, prayers, and gestures from friends and well wishers. Nothing about my father and I. A few of them wanted to know where I was, and why I wasn't at my party. It seemed like neither Shully nor my father said anything to them. I could only imagine how they had waited and waited, and left eventually.

Some of them saw me leaving the party, their messages said they did. I ignored all chats, and went straight to Shully's inbox. She was active.

She had dropped over thirty new messages. Slowly, I read through them. Mixed feelings springing up. I was moved by affection.

She was telling me how much she missed me, and how she wanted to make sure I'm okay. She also expressed her grief towards the fact that my father had been using me as a sex toy. She added that she didn't tell anyone about my father and I, and her last message said that she was worried about me.

"Hello, Shully." I texted her back.

She responded with the speed of light, and we began to chat intimately.

"What about my father, and my birthday party, how did it end?"

She told me my father vanished into the streets almost immediately after I left, that she thought he came after me. She said she had to announce that the birthday had been canceled, and then she left too. She got a lot of questions, but gave no one an answer. She had left immediately "People are still in my Inbox, asking me what is going on. Camilla, you have to come back." She added.

"Where are you now?" She typed, after waiting for my response, but none came. I was thinking of a technical way of answering her questions, without getting her worried.

I assured her that I was safe, and asked her not to freak out about anything. I was tempted to tell her about how dreadful the city was, and the events of earlier this morning, but I changed my mind. I didn't want to scare her.

"We'll talk later." I said to her, after we had spent almost an hour chatting. The next thing I was going to do was to switch off my phone.

I dropped my phone, and gazed at the window. It was eleven in the morning. The ray of sun that had woke me up was already hot and blinding, but I couldn't stop admiring the streets, and the flowers. At least, I was safe here until whenever my father chose to show up.

"Hello, daughter. " A voice echoed from inside my room. I turned to face the door, but didn't see anyone. I looked around me, it was all in my head I thought. I didn't see anyone come in, I didn't hear the door creak open either, so who could it be with me in the room?

"Camilla, I promised you that you would pay, didn't I?" My father came out from behind the wardrobe, a shiny metal in his right hand. He was holding a knife. A wide grin on his face, his eyes shone like he had been drinking. He was wearing the same jean pants from yesterday, and a white polo shirt that looked very stained from dirt.

I had gone to that wardrobe, and selected my outfit, how didn't I see him in there?

How did he get into my hotel room?

What's he going to do now?

I swallowed, and shifted backwards in my bed, my eyes scanning for a weapon I could use in defense.

"What do you want, rapist?" I found my voice after a few seconds passed.