Chapter 50: Terrible Things

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Mia Jones POV:

Present time...

Scott stops the car in front of an old apartment complex that looks as though it's been through hell and back.

White paint has chipped off of the walls, exposing old and decaying brick, and the fence that surrounds the property has holes every metre or so. I watch a stray cat stumble through a dumpster, looking like it's drunk.

A strange smell of old people mixed with the scent of mouldy milk stains the air, and as we make our way to the front door, the scent only gets stronger.

Do people actually live here?

Surely this isn't where Scott lives.

Digging into his pockets, he pulls out a set of keys which emit a defining sound in the complete silence of the neighbourhood.

Unlocking the door, he opens it and waits until I'm inside before entering. Both of us taking one last weary look outside, I begin to follow Scott further into the building.

Since we had fled Alice's about an hour ago, neither of us had said a single word to each other. I couldn't seem to speak, I felt paralysed, everything was frozen in time, and I couldn't move or speak for at least half of the ride.

We were that close to being caught.

Matteo knew I was there, he knew exactly when and where, otherwise he wouldn't have sent the amount of men that he did. And it's only a matter of time before he arrives back in New York and sets out to get me himself.

Clearly his best friend getting shot hasn't deterred him from me, which means he will go to any lengths to retrieve me once more.

I need to contact Dad as soon as possible.

Scott and I trudge up five flights of stairs, which creak persistently, mimicking the sound of a dying cat. The higher we ascend, the fainter the terrible smell gets until finally it has totally dissipated, when we reach the apartment which I am guessing is Scott's.

Confirming my suspicion, he unlocks the door and lets me inside, then entering himself, and locking the door behind him.

My eyes scan over the decrepit space, worn away by time and use.

It's small, much smaller than my apartment. It looks as though it consists of two rooms, a bedroom and another room which contains a kitchen and lounge room.

I spot an old couch with holes in the fabric, protruding springs. Opposite it, is a TV from the 2000's, in all of its box glory. I'd be surprised if that thing even turned on.

"You live here?" Are my first words in just over an hour.

I turn back to Scott and he shrugs. "Sometimes. It's one of my places where I come when I want to be alone."

"I'm guessing you haven't been here for a while?"

He gives me a small smile. "No, no I haven't." He scans the area, and it looks as though he's been hit with a wave of nostalgia. I think this place has more significance to him than he's letting on, though I don't press any further.

"And we're safe here? Matteo won't be able to find us?"

"No one knows about this place, at least not anymore..."

I nod, and head further inside the small place, dragging my index finger along the back of the couch, collecting a loud of dust.

The only source of light within the apartment, besides the flickering lamp, is the pale moon which shines in subtle light through the one and only window.

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