Running Away Ch. 01

A lot of things were running in my mind as I pushed the car to go faster on the highway out of the city, right through the woods. The heavy rains fucked with the visibility on the road but that didn't stop me from trying to go faster.

I had just lost my job as an accountant. Almost thirty and fired. And worse, my incompetence at work might have just gotten the police on my trail. I knew that my boss was screwing around with company money, but he had cleverly asked me to account for them using other employees' names. And now, nothing I could say would pin this on my boss. He used me and hung me out to dry. That's what I was running from.

My wife also left me recently. Almost thirty and divorced. She cheated on me with taller and stronger men - I was 5 ft 5, two dimensionally thin and weighed 115 pounds - it wasn't difficult for her to find them. I let my hair grow wild in the hope it added a few pounds. She had told me several times to my face that I wasn't fit ti be her husband - or anyone else's. My sensitive nature, which got her to fall for me, caused her to leave me too. I cried at the end of sad movies, had a shrill voice, and spiders and roaches scared me. I was running away from her insults and her memory too.

I decided to go as far as the car would take me. And then keep going till I disappeared. No phones to track where I went, Mr. Officer!

The thoughts and the thick sheet of rain muddled my view enough to not see a vehicle ahead till the last moment, and I swerved to hit some kind of a wall on one side of the highway, swerved back and somehow got the car to come to a halt at the edge of the highway without exploding or tumbling. At least I was lucky enough for that. The wall was that of a rather large, lonely mansion in the middle of nowhere. A summer lodge of sorts for some rich brats like my boss, no doubt. I wanted to go on, but my car wouldn't start again for the next thirty minutes. The vague smell of gasoline put all thoughts of sleeping in the car out of my head and I decided to have a go at the mansion.

In case you didn't notice, it was raining heavily and there was no one at the gate to let me in. I went in myself to not get soaked any more than I needed to and saw a proper car parked outside the building. Thank God someone was there! I went for the bell and a man with partly greying hair opened the door, looking confused.

"My car broke down," I blabbered. The rather good looking chap beckoned me in (out of the rain) and asked me to hang on while he got a towel.

"What are you doing way out here in all this rain?" he asked in a rather deep voice like that of actors in old movies. He looked like one too, lean muscled and fit, probably in his early forties. I dried my hair wondering if he was the type of man my ex had wanted me to become.

"Miss? Hello?"

Miss? Oh great. Another person who thought I was a girl. Ugh.

"Don't be scared, miss." He smiled that charming smile that women used to sigh at. "I'm afraid I haven't got much to eat - the estate's caretaker, who is also the cook, is at the city for the night. Would you like tea?"

I nodded and mumbled, "Yes please."

"Excellent. I'm Tony deMarco. I don't think we can take a look at your car out on the dark roads in this rain. You can stay here for the night. Take the stairs up and use the last room along the corridor to... dry up. Best change into something more comfortable and less wet while I get that tea going. Okay?"

I nodded, more out of still being in a shock about the whole thing. "I think there's been a mistake. I am -"

"Oh it's all fine, madam. Please just dry off and you can tell me your story over tea. Good to have someone to talk to in this frightfully large estate."

And he turned around and walked away towards the rear end of the hall, brushing away my sirs. When he was far enough for my attempt to clarify the air to become awkward, I decided to just talk to him over tea and took the stairs. The corridor was lit by dull electric bulbs and the room - well, the room came as a shock to me too. It was a most feminine room, splashed with pink and pale blue everywhere. The closet had all kinds of women's clothing, and the photo on the wall told me it was the room of a young girl - probably in high school, probably the man's daughter going by the look.

I was torn between going back down in my wet clothes and just getting my hands on anything dry. Looked for some decent, less feminine clothes and found a white shirt and blue shorts. Had to wear panties because of the zippers though. Since his daughter was quite young, the shirt held on tight and the shorts were super short. I still saw a girl in the mirror, thanks to my mussed dark hair pointing in every direction, hairless legs, the frills on my shoulders and the slight leeway for boobs in the shirt. After a divorce was probably not the right time to learn that women's shirts were different, but here I was, looking like a bony, punk version of Kristen Stewart. Fucking Bella.

I walked back down, my bare feet reminding me every second that I was wearing some high school girl's outfit and found my way to the dining table by following the sounds. The guy was watching standup comedy on his phone and sipping tea as I entered the room. His eyes moved to me and lingered there for a second, making me more uncomfortable about the whole misunderstanding.

"You look beautiful, miss. Take a seat, please."

"Thanks, Mr. deMarco. I think -"

"I need to apologise before that. I come here rarely, to the estate. I live in the city with my 15 year old daughter. I may have slightly misjudged you, with you somehow seeming smaller in the wet clothes and the rain."

"It's fine, really - I"

"My fault, ma'am. My wife's clothes might fit you more comfortably. Please change into anything you wish. Take the other set of stairs and it'll lead you to the last room."

Beyond awkward. How could I tell this man now? Maybe pretend to be a girl overnight and leave in the morning? Or risk freaking him out?

"Is anyone looking for you, miss? Do you want to make a call?"

'Yes, sir. People are looking for me. Fucking policemen," I thought to myself."If they find the car and come here... hmm."

"Miss? What do I call you?"

"Bella." The first name that came to my mind. "Isabella."

"Do you want to call anyone?"

"No, Mr. deMarco. I don't have anyone to call right now."

"Call me Tony." That warm, charming smile again. His inquisitive eyes felt good.

"So, Tony - does your wife live in the city with you?"

I flashed my best feminine smile.