Two Miles to Heaven

-Chapter 28- «Flashbacks»

A cold breeze ran through my skin as I walked out of my last victim's building, rain pouring down my face as I lifted it up to look at the sky.

The droplets washed away the blood traces on my features and my fingers... It felt like washing away my sins. Only this time, they will forever leave inner scars on my soul.

Judging the architecture and the brick red color dominating half of the surroundings, I must be still in West Village, not that far from Jackson Square.

Did my 'crack buddies' see me breaking in that blonde woman's place? One can only not hope.

I hailed the first cab that passed by, instructing the driver to head straight to the Queens.

-"Are you okay, sir?" he was concerned but with a questioning look. "Your nose is bleeding."

I quickly wiped it up with my thumb. It wasn't the victim's. It was mine, due to my important use of coke. I rested my head on the window, during the whole way.

It's official, I'm going home to pack my stuff and leave New York, for good. I'm not ready to face anyone I know here. I'm not even ready to face myself in the mirror.

I shouldn't have came here at the first place. Though it's true, Boston became a suffocating nightmare, like an elevator to a claustrophobic. But I wasn't the villain there, Sam already handled that role perfectly. And New York always felt like a broad haven to keep me away from my flaws.

Never have I ever thought that it would fuel my personality's bad side. I'm starting to think that being doomed to living the rest of my life in the unhappiest way is what I truly deserve. Therefore, I definitely don't have the right to ruin people's lives when they were promised to live the Big Apple's dream.

When finally arrived, I directly went to the bathroom, stripping off as if my clothes were cutting my blood circulation, almost ripping every fabric covering me.

A huge sigh escaped my lips as I felt the first amount of hot water dripping all over my body, washing the last sins that were glued to that dark soul that I was damned with. I took the Tom Ford soap cube and started rubbing my skin with such a truculent move that it almost felt like the upper layer's about to fly off my wrist, texture becoming squeakier than ever.

I felt so disgusted that I didn't leave any spot not rubbed vigorously until I was done, turning the tap off. Why do I still feel the blood of all these women on me?

Trying not to torment myself, I went to my bedroom, putting some fresh clothes that I bought from Barney's, last month, that I decided to wear for a special occasion. Oh, well. Black tee shirt, black ripped skinny jeans and black shoes, all accessorized with a Ferragamo leather jacket that Ken bought me for my 17th birthday, when we were in high-school.

My thoughts were now focused on her. I couldn't bare thinking how she feels about me, right now. She must feel sorry, I saw that pity running in her eyes when she confessed about what she saw in the footage.

Couldn't blame her. She was convicted to meet me and now, I'm pretty sure that she's starting to regret that first interaction we had, back to the St Jude's days.

I took out my large suitcase and put it on bed, trying to fold and fit every piece of clothing and valuable object that I had. My mom's picture was on the bedside table, I grabbed it to put it in my backpack but I haven't seen the minutes running by as I found myself staring at it long enough with a few tears shed on the mirrored protection before shoving it in one of the frontal pockets.

Finding the black sweatshirt that I wore yesterday, I was about to fold it as well when the little coke bag fell off of its pocket.

"Another little trip to Monaco won't hurt anyone." I said to myself, smiling.