Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth’s POV
I couldn’t help but shiver as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I was absolutely freezing, patting around myself for my thick and toasty duvet, only to come up empty handed. That’s when I began to smell the faint scent of stale cigarettes and dust surrounding me.
I wasn’t in my room.
My eyes shot open, frantically taking in my surroundings. The small motel room I was lying in nearly made my stomach churn. The walls were a faint yellow, though I was sure they were originally painted white. There was an ancient wooden table in the corner by the window, a blue and stained wood and wool chair pushed up against it. On the table sat a black Jansport backpack.
There was a single bedside table, on which was an old yellow lamp with a torn shade and a yellow corded telephone. The carpet looked like it came from an old movie theater, the design reminiscent of the eighties, navy blue with stars and neon designs. I wondered for a moment if they actually got the carpet from such a place.
I stretched, noticing a piece of black cloth fall to my lap as I sat up. That’s when it all came back to me.
This wasn’t some nightmare in which I wake up in some rundown motel. This was my reality. This fabric, I realized as I held it out in front of me, was the black jacket Zen was wearing when he took me from my bedroom last night. A deep inhale of the soft cotton told me I was right. It smelled of menthol and high end cologne.
Zen.
Where was he?
I called his name hesitantly, only to be met with silence. Maybe he was in the bathroom. I slipped my arms into his jacket, wrapping it tightly around my torso and hugging myself. This near-stranger’s scent brought me an odd amount of comfort and reassurance, and the soft lining of the jacket kept me warm in this arctic room.
I padded towards the back of the room, where a single door was situated. It was partially open, with a soft light emanating through. I opened it slowly, deflating when I realized that the light came from a small rectangular window on the right side of the room. The floor was light blue linoleum and it smelled like bleach. At least it seemed clean enough, even with the peeling walls.
At this moment I realized just how badly I needed to use the restroom. After washing my hands, I splashed some cool water on my face. There were bags evident under my eyes and I was convinced that they didn’t show the extent of my fatigue nearly enough. I licked the trickling water off my lips. I really wished I had a toothbrush. Maybe Zen could get me one.
Zen!
I had almost forgotten that I had been looking for him. Where could he be? I left the bathroom, not bothering to wipe my hands on the questionable towels hanging inside, and padded back over to the corner of the room.
I scanned the area, double checking that I was alone, before lifting my trembling hands to unzip the backpack. The noise it made seemed especially loud compared to the chilling silence around me. Once completely opened, I stood on my tip toes to peer inside, as if moving it down to my eye level would get me in trouble. Maybe it would? I didn’t know how patient Zen would be if he found out that I had gone through his things. I didn’t know him nearly enough to understand his true nature.
As much as I hoped that what he showed me at the park was the real him, I couldn’t shake the darkness I had seen in his eyes. Last night he had truly frightened me, which was relatively difficult to do.
Something just didn’t add up. How did he even know that someone was trying to kill me? And how did he manage to get to me minutes before the attempt would be made?
Panic settled in the pit of my stomach the more I thought about it.
Zen meeting me at the park was not an accident. It was all planned. It had to be. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen. I invited him into my home. I gave him something precious to me. I followed him into a car, no questions asked, and allowed him to take me to some unknown area. How could I be so stupid?
I couldn’t control the gasp that left my mouth when I took in the contents of the black bag. A sleek black pistol, some dark clothes, and a band of brand new hundreds were seemingly shoved inside. No identification, and no clues.
Who are you, Zen?