Hurricane

Mikey had stopped hours later. It felt as if I had been in that small car for days. He had stopped at a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere. I kept an eye out for Norman Bates. It was dark and dreary and I was afraid to get out.

"I'm going to get us a room. Stay here." Mikey had spoken, but I hadn't really paid attention.

Mikey had gotten out of the car, while I waited. I put my legs down, I looked around me, seeing nothing but wooded areas, still. I had wondered if anyone knew where we were, or if they had idea. I also wondered if that policeman had been found.

Mikey had come back a moment later, and opened my door, helping me out, and grabbing a few bags. There were a lot more than I remembered, but I didn't say anything. Mikey led us towards the back of the motel building, to our room and opened the door quickly.

The smell of mold hit my nostrils, I wanted to wrench right then. Mikey waved his hand over his face and flicked the light on. It wasn't as bad as it looked, it just smelled.

"Ray told me about this place." Mikey closed the door behind me, "They don't check for IDs, and they keep their mouths shut. We'll be good here for a little while."

"Where are we?" My throat scratched from the lack of use.

"Near Illinois." 

"How long was the drive?"

Mikey set our things on the bed; I didn't trust it, "A few hours." He opened the bag and began to pull things out. 

I saw a bottle of bleach, peroxide and black hair dye. I had raised my brow, wondering, but really, I knew. I just didn't want it to be true.

"You ever dye your hair before?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "No."

"You're gonna be blond." He told me.

My eyes had bulged, "Excuse me? Blond?"

Mikey nodded, "I'm dying mine black."

I didn't protest, I didn't know how to. I had let Mikey take the lead, and stopping him now for making me dye my hair seemed idiotic. I didn't know how to just say "No, I am not dying my hair" when I had let him kill 5 people in front of me. So, I didn't say anything; he gave me the peroxide and told me how to use it. I couldn't believe I was doing this.


I had turned the TV on, while I played with my newly blond locks. I wanted to see if we were on the news, and sure enough we were. They talked about Mikey taking me hostage, and then they showed his and my picture on the screen. They talked about that police officer and how it was connected because they had found Mikey's dad's car miles down the road in that lake. The woman on the screen said that they were talking to Gerard, and that they had talked to my mother.

My mother showed up on the screen, crying, "Ladonna wouldn't do this. She's a victim! Find her."

My heart wrenched, my lips trembled and I began to sob. I couldn't even hear the rest of the segment because of my cries. Mikey had come in and turned the TV off, and placed the remote on the TV.

"Stop crying, Rooney," He said sternly, "you have to be strong."

I had shaken my head, "This is so bad. This is so bad, Mikey."

He had taken a firm grip on my shoulders, "No it's not. We'll be free soon enough, I promise."

I half believed him, I wanted some type of stable idea of a future. Even so, this was sick, and I knew that this was sick. I knew that me wanting to love and be with Mikey, especially this way, was sick and demented.

"Stop crying," He spoke softer and kissed my lips, "please."

My body shook, but the tears stopped. Mikey cleared my face of the tears, kissing me until I forced my body to relax. Mikey had forced me back, then, and continued to kiss me.

This wasn't romantic, Izzy. Never think, just because you're with someone you love, that it is romantic anywhere.

Mikey had gotten rid of the sheets, his friend Ray had packed up some clean ones. He had taken the blanket and tossed it on the floor, placing more sheets to use as a blanket. He was on top of me on the bed, and I knew it was happening.

I didn't want to have sex, then. I didn't want to lose my virginity there, in some gross, asbestos infected motel room. But...it happened.

I barely recognized Mikey, then. He had black hair, he had put away his glasses and was sporting contacts. He hovered over at me, kissing me, and asking if I was alright. I had just nodded, hoping it'd all be over soon.

I felt like I would have a heart attack when I felt him inside of me. I was uncomfortable, I wanted him to stop, I wanted to curl up and die, but I didn't stop him. I thought it would get better...and I wanted to hurry and get it over with.

Once he started to move, the pain between my legs made me cry. The tears flowed, I only whimpered, and Mikey brushed away my tears with his thumbs and lips. I stared up at the dirty ceiling, praying, mentally for him to hurry up and stop. I thought it would get better. It would only get worse, making me feel worse.

The experience only lasted 20 minutes, and when it was over, Mikey laid on me. I continued to look at the ceiling, lost in the dirty specks above me. Mikey had turned his head, his breathing heavy, he looked me in the eye; "Did I hurt you?"

I answered honestly, "Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He questioned softly.

"I thought it'd get better." I whispered, looking over at him, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's my fault...it'll be better next time."

I had held my breath; there had to be a next time. I didn't want a next time, and if there were, I had wished it were more nice...more romantic. More...something; anything than a dirty motel room.


For days, I didn't look at myself. I didn't like to see myself with blond hair, it made everything real, in a way. The change of color made me think of what Mikey had done, and what I had drug myself into. I was involved, whether I liked it or not. I had the choice to either run away or to follow Mikey. I had the choice, and I didn't make the right ones.

Even so, my mind heavy with regret, I love(d) Mikey everyday. I saw new things in him that I hadn't seen before. He was gentler, and he was sweeter to me. We had been gone two weeks, and he hadn't done anything that made me sick of him.

The news had said he was monster, they had said he should be hung and put in prison. Everything I had heard only made me love Mikey more, it made me more protective of him. Because, they didn't know what Mikey had gone through, and they probably wouldn't understand...

As I said, days past and we had headed south, instead. The weather down there was wet, and humid. I barely remembered what day it was, it was almost the beginning of May. We had traded cars so many different times, we had almost lost each other a few times. We were always careful, together and apart.

We stayed in motels, and changed our identities; he and I were a married couple name Jake and Mandy Quinto. He still called me Roo, and I didn't know what to call him, but it was hard to call him Jake with a straight face. We even had these ID cards with our pictures, with new hair colors, that he got from a friend of Ray's in North Dakota. 

When we finally settled, it was somewhere in Louisiana. Mikey had said it'd be home for a while. He said we had to start getting jobs. He said he had a new way of us earning money, that we'd live happily. I just didn't know that earning the money involved me specifically.