Chapter 13
That night. I didn’t go home. I curled up on a hospital bench to sleep through the night.
The next day when I woke up, I was burning up with a fever.
My phone was silent the whole night; Dexter didn’t call even once.
“Ryder…” I called him from the bench. “About that study abroad thing. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Phoebe, do you have a cold?” Ryder’s voice came through, laced with concern.
“Yeah, got caught in the rain yesterday. Feeling a bit under the weather today.”
“Where are you? I’ll drop off some cold medicine,” Ryder was worried.
“If I hand in the application form today, how soon can I leave the country?” I asked with a sense of urgency in my voice.
At that time, I had a premonition that I might not survive if I didn’t leave.
I wanted to live, to get as far away from Dexter as possible.
As long as I left, it would all be over.
“If you apply now, you can get an acceptance letter in two months. I’ll ask the professor to expedite it. Once you get the notice, I’ll buy your plane ticket,” Ryder said, his voice laced with concern. “Is the cold serious? Should I come get you?”
“No need, Ryder… I’m at the hospital. Thank you.”
I thought that in two months, I would be able to leave Sea City forever, escape this place as well as Dexter.
After hanging up, I left the hospital.
Wandering the back alleys outside the hospital, I suddenly felt lost, unsure where to go. My parents had died in a car accident, the house was sold, and the death compensation was gone to debts. Apart from the Fitzgerald family, I had nowhere to go.
I didn’t even know where home was anymore.
Feeling dizzy, I found a corner to sit down, leaning against the wall and falling back into a groggy sleep.
I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I found a jacket covering me. Although worn. it was clearly washed with care.
I looked around; the alley was deserted.
Getting up, I noticed two plastic–wrapped muffins beside me.
I smiled bitterly, feeling somewhat resigned. A kind soul must have mistaken me for a homeless person, right?
Homeless?
That seemed about right.
Dexter once said. “You live in my house, eat my food, and use my stuff. So, what’s the difference between you and a beggar?”
There was no difference.
I neatly folded the jacket and placed it with the muffins on a clean spot.
If the kind soul returned, they would probably take it back.
I steadied myself against the wall and took a few steps, then turned around at a rustling noise to see a tall, lean figure in a hoodie disappear around the corner.
Without giving it much thought, I walked straight out of the alley and hailed a cab.
When I returned to the Fitzgerald mansion, Dexter was there.
“Dexter, where’s Phoebe? She hasn’t come back? She didn’t come home all night,” Hailey asked. worry etching her features.
“She’s an adult; she can’t be dead, can she?” Dexter said with irritation.
I stood outside the door, watching Dexter’s impatient demeanor, and sighed.
“Miss Phoebe, there’s someone at the door for you. The man says his name is Ryder, your senior,” the housekeeper informed me as I lingered outside.
I hesitated for a moment, then ran outside.
Why had Ryder come?
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