The RunAway Model

II. The Morning After

Desiree gasped and stumbled back in shock at what lay before her eyes.

Questions attacked her as she struggled to maintain her balance.

Who did it? Why?

"Jam...oh god..." she stammered, turning around to block her friend's bloody state from view.

What should I do?

That was the most important question she had to face at the moment.

She couldn't bring herself to look back at her friend so she urged her feet to take her back to the closet. Tears streamed down her face as she cried looking for her phone with shaking hands.

What if they think I did it?

Desiree paused for a second to think, her eyes closed. No logical thought came to mind. Jamaica's bloody body was the only thing her mind could process at that moment.

Whimpering in panic and fear, Desiree gave up on her phone and opened her friend's suitcase and took out a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans. She hastily removed her dress from last night and put what she grabbed from the suitcase.

She grabbed whatever she thought she'd need later and looked for something to put them into when she saw the black bag from earlier. She pulled it toward her and opened it.

"Oh my god, Jam...what have you been up to?" she asked out loud when she saw what was inside the bag. It was full of cash. Thousands of it neatly stacked inside. It could worth millions!

You have to run now, a voice inside her said. Run as far as you can.

Without another thought, Desiree closed the bag, stood up and walked to the door. She grabbed Jamaica's sweater from the table on her way out.

Run. Go far away. They'll think you did it.

Her feet briskly took her to the elevator doors and she impatiently punched all the buttons going down. Her heart was racing as she waited for one pair of doors to open. When the ding came, she jumped in alarm.

She wiped away the tears and composed herself the moment she was inside. She covered her head and most of her face with the scarf. "Oh my god, oh my god. What the fuck happened?" she asked under her breath as new tears fell from her eyes. "Shit, Jamaica, what have you gotten yourself into?"

As the elevator descended further down, Desiree found some time to come to her senses.

What am I doing?

She couldn't just leave her best friend like that.

She had nothing to fear. She didn't do anything. She didn't have to run and make things complicated.

Desiree squared her shoulders, her mind made up. She'd call the police. She couldn't just leave Jamaica.

She was innocent and it would remain that way if she would just stop being stupid and stay to face this shit.

She roughly wiped away the tears off her face with her palms to get a grip on everything that happened. How could a perfectly normal afternoon lead to this? Who would have thought that after having sex with a stranger she met at the bar would land her in this mess?

The elevator stopped at another floor and Desiree stepped back to one corner. It was human instinct.

She tried to hide from the stranger who came inside by tugging on the scarf.

"Where are you going?" the voice demanded. Desiree kept her head down and did not move. "Jamaica, where the hell are you going? This is not part of the plan."