Chapter Text
Neil Josten loved running. He always had, for as long as he could remember. Whether it was for exercise or to chase away demons or for a sports day in school, he ran and ran and never wanted to stop. His mother had once told him to slow down sometimes, remember to stop and take in his surroundings. She knew how running would make his mind go blank and how he would forget the way back home. Some days, running was all he had.
He had never run for his life before today.
He threw the door open with enough force he distantly heard it slam against the wall, but his feet were already halfway down the curved driveway. The worn duffel in his hand made moving awkward and it bounced against his hip with every stride. He ran down the road to the yellow house and knocked frantically on the door until it opened and he could slip inside.
”Jesus Christ-”
Hernandez was Neil’s exy coach at school. A widower without children and Neil knew the coach had always had a soft spot for him, which he now selfishly took advantage of.
”It’s not my blood,” he said quickly before Hernandez decided to do something stupid like call an ambulance.
There was a lot of blood.
”Then who-”
Neil ignored him and went in search for a bathroom, lost for a minute until Hernandez got his wits about him and showed him the way.
”Turn around,” Neil ordered to the still stunned Hernandez who obeyed after a moment. With the coach’s back towards him Neil quickly stripped out of his soaked button-down and dress pants. It had been a formal dinner. Too fancy clothing for where the evening had ended up. Neil pushed the ruined clothes into the already full trash can and started scrubbing the blood off his hands and arms and torso. He refused to look in the mirror. Once semi-clean he dug into the duffel and pulled out a clean shirt and jeans, then a hoodie which he put to the side for now. Lastly he got the box of hair dye and ripped it open.
”You can look now,” he said to Hernandez, who politely turned halfway and gave Neil a long, quiet look.
”What are you going to do?”
”I need to get as far away from here as possible,” Neil said while wetting his hair in the sink. ”I can’t stay.”
Hernandez was wise enough not to argue.
Several long minutes later Neil was on the road again, hoodie pulled up over his now dark curls and duffel slung over his back. He forced himself not to look over his shoulder as he walked. Walked, not ran, all the way to the bus terminal where he bought a ticket for the next bus out of there. He could feel eyes on him all the way to the bus. Even as he boarded he could swear someone was watching him, chasing him. Just as the bus rolled out of the station blue lights started flickering and for a moment Neil’s heart stopped. He was too slow. Too late. His fingers tightened on the duffel and he sank deeper into his seat, willing his lungs to stop cramping and his heart to stop racing.
The police car passed. The bus kept going.
Neil felt one breath from fainting.
The bus drove all night but Neil did not get any sleep. He watched the lights of passing cars and as morning neared he watched the sunrise through the bus windows. The first rest stop was Wilmington. Neil got off with the others to stretch his legs and buy a coffee. They got back on when the driver called for them and kept going for a bit, now stopping more frequently at every little small town. Neil watched people on the bus get off and not get back on.
In the small beach town of Palmetto, the driver announced that next stop was end station Charleston. Neil could do one of two things; keep going to Charleston and get on the next bus to somewhere else, or get off in Palmetto and get some rest. He checked his watch, he had been awake for more than twenty four hours by now.
Like a shadow he slipped off the bus without anyone noticing.
Palmetto’s bus terminal was a slab of concrete and a single bench painted the most obscure shade of orange. Neil frowned at it and tore his eyes away to take in his surroundings. The road the bus came in on looked like it was the town’s main road. On one side residential houses spread out, on the other a little tourist shop, a pier, a restaurant and the marina. Beyond the masts of the sailboats, the ocean.
Neil had never seen the ocean before. For a moment he stood, dumbstruck by the realization. He was a mess of sleep deprivation and nerves, and his feet carried him to the beach. This early in the morning it was deserted, but Neil still walked until he found a quiet corner underneath the pier. His feet carried him no further. He all but collapsed, clutching his duffel to his chest and curled into a ball, and in seconds he was asleep.