The first thing I did after taking off was to turn off my phone. Then I stopped by the nearest grocery store and picked a black marker to play a disguise game with my plate's numbers. Just change the 0's into 8's and, abracadabra, you get a brand new car with a history-less driver. I guess crime movies paid off after all.

It's weird how good our brains are in recording such procedures without us even noticing. Like we're programed for this. To go wild. Maybe there's a side to every man that wants to go wild but just awaits for the chance. And this is my chance. To go outlaw. To encounter the thrill. The adrenaline. But why can't I feel any of it? Why is all I feel is fear and anxiety for my Hazel? Is it because I loved? Oh, forgive me lord for I've sinned.

My watch tells me it's 11:57 P.M. when I reach my destination. I can't believe I accomplished such a task. And even made it before the deadline. But then the fear of the coming task hits me as a payback for feeling the slightest triumph. What I did was wrong, so should I still feel proud? Yes. Yes, I should. I should celebrate anything that gets me closer to her. Even if it's murder. Well, that escalated quickly. Let's just focus on the pillows.

As I waited in my car for another couple of minutes, a tiny, folded paper was thrown into my open window. And when I say that is was traceless, I mean it. I could say it was shot by a sniper. There wasn't even a dog in the damn street. My great grandfather would've said that it reminds him of a Jewish street during the Holocaust.

I unfold the paper.

So you made it in time! Congrats, player one, you're to pass to the next level. Your baby girl also gets to endure another sunrise, thanks to your wits and fondness. Your love gives me goose bumps really. I applaud you *clap*

Now shall we proceed with the next task? See, on my way back home, after taking your baby girl of course, I got caught up in calming her and may have lost track of the street. So as a side effect of calming down your lil muffin, I scratched my beloved car. So I came to the conclusion that I need a new ride. Someone in my status can't walk around with a scratched car. I am a man of a position. And then I decided that I should give you the honor of securing me a new ride. A ride with sirens. The sirens that chases criminals, like you, away. What can I say man, girls dig a man with a badge. Or a siren. Whichever comes first. Now the rules stand unchanged. Tomorrow. Midnight. Right were you're. But get hyped! You're almost there, friend. And remember that someone's life is on stake here ;)

P.S. Please place the pillow next to our costume mail box, the one you are going to throw the shreds of this paper after you tear it down. And remember! Never mess with the mailman.

Talkative. A talkative psychopath who wants me to steal a cop's car when almost every cop in NY must be looking for me now. We should be friends. I should invite him out for coffee when we're done with this. Because I want to look him in the eyes before I reach for his air pipe and choke the hell out of him. I want to see his skin turn all shades of blue because, unless I do so, I would never consider myself capable of decent revenge.

*******************

I drove towards the end of the world and even beyond. The car unyielding to stop because my body is unyielding to respond. Where am I going? Asked my body. Just drive, said my brain. But I knew where I was heading. Inside, there was a sketch for the place I was looking for. The place where I rest for the night. But the ride felt eternal and the night threatened to extinct. I could manage to blink every now and then but I wasn't sure I am still alive. Because I felt so cold and empty. Is that how it felt to long for someone? To fear not seeing that person again? If so, then falling in love just proved to be my gravest mistake and my deepest regret. But to my surprise, I find pleasure in such regret.

After hours of driving, I found it. A cheap deserted motel. Where they wouldn't mind paying you to stay the night. I parked my car where eyes can't easily spot it and got off. A man in his thirties looked surprised when I walked in. His body fats can keep him warm in the North Pole. He wore a training sweater that might have belonged to his mom and a pair of glasses that reflected his gross moustache. I've always had something against facial hair. Repugnant.

"Hi...welcome to aaa... our motel...how can I help you?" so he's stoned. Perfect.

"I'll need a room."

"Single?"

"Obviously."

He smiled sheepishly as he nodded. "Yeah, my bad. Can I have your ID, please? I will input your info into the system. This is a regulation we do in motels and other..."

"I know. I am aware of how to check in into motels. But I forgot my ID at home. I am not staying in New York. I, actually, came all the way from Boston. And I really need a room for now. Help me, man. I don't want to crash on the pavement tonight."

"I can't, man, that can get me fired. And I need the job. I need the money to...survive, I guess." He's way too stoned to even notice if I sneaked into one of the rooms. I still can't risk it.

"What about I pay you extra. If you really need the cash, I can help. I'll pay you double your salary. No triple! All I need is one night. And I'll give you three thousand dollars. I don't think you get paid more than a single grand. You can get all the pot you need, and I won't tell."

He narrowed his eyes at me like I am full of crap, but then his features softened and I could see a glimmer of greed in his eyes. Or was that happiness? As if there's a difference between them. Maybe I need some pot myself.

"Are you really going to pay me that much now?"

"Who said now? I will give you half now and the rest once I wake up tomorrow. If we have a deal, your cash is ready in my pocket."

Although he was a bit disappointed, whatever substance he was on made it hard to smudge his mood. He was happy. And I was lucky. He nodded and opened his hands, expectantly. I handed him the money and headed to my room after taking the key. I need a deep sleep, I thought.

I stripped down to my knee-long boxers and engulfed my body in the nasty bed sheets that I wouldn't dare touch in my normal state of mind. But is anything normal anymore? I sighed at the thought. Seconds came by followed by minutes. Hours joined too. I was losing track of time but I knew it was just minutes before sunrise.

A knock on my door came like a blade in my back. I flinched hard and jumped to my feet. I sneaked towards the door and placed an ear on it. What were I even trying to do? Don't ask. Then it came like rain, rhymed knocking. Hard and unyielding. Like he/she was making it clear that I had no choice but to open up.

"Who is it?!" I managed, in wavering fear.

"It's me, Frank. The receptionist..."

"What's it that brings you now?! The sun isn't up yet!"

"Just open the damn door, man."

I hesitated for a second, but do I have a choice really? I open.

"What is it?"

"Your face is all over the news. They say that you're crazy. You broke into a couple's house. And you put a man in coma, man. What the hell?!"

I can't breathe. That happened to me once before. When she broke up with me and said it's for the best. Maybe that's what she really meant after all. That she really wanted me to stay the hell away. But I never did. I couldn't. I realize he's waiting for a reply. Of course, he is.

"So what now? You're going to tip the cops off? Why are you here then?" I said in a tone of nonchalance.

"What? No."

"No?" That took me off guard.

"I just want the rest of the cash, man. I ain't a snitch. Give me the damn money, in case the cops decided to give us a visit. You won't be able to pay me then."

Wow.

"Okay. Hold on for a sec."

I rushed to the nightstand and got a thousand five-hundred from my wallet.

"Here's your money."

"Sick! Donald will be thrilled! Thanks, man. Goodnight. I mean good morning, huh," and he rushed downstairs, eyes not leaving the cash. Yeah, go make Donald happy.

I never slept that night. I, even, barely blinked. Although sleep was too heavy on my eyelids, fear was way heavier on my heart.

I left the motel quite early in the morning. I dashed to my car and drove away. After almost driving for an hour, I parked by a small diner. Not that there wasn't a diner by the motel, but the movies taught me that when you're breaking bad or playing fugitive, you shouldn't stay long in one place. Ride for your life. I entered the diner demanding a feast, aka breakfast. I was starving.

People were somewhat recognizing me. Like they look at me and think "Oh, he looks familiar" to themselves. I could read it on their faces but I never really knew if someone took me for who I am. My face was really all over the news, huh? I wonder how I was depicted. After I was full and drank too much coffee, I decided that that amount of caffeine isn't enough. I hurried to the grocery store nearby and went hunting for power drinks or any other stimulants. And when my battery was filled, I was back on the road.

It's 8:49 in the morning. I've got sixteen hours to figure out the next task. Inside my head, there was only one thread. So I followed it. It led me to a payphone.

I got of the car and headed towards the phone. I kept wavering as I dialed the numbers that I, deliberately, knew by heart. I never knew why I did that two days ago, but I do now. Like I saw that coming. Isn't it creepy in a cool way? In a Jason Bourne way? Or a 007 way? Where instinct and acuteness saves the day. I waited, regretting it already.

"Hello?"

"Detective Danes?"

"Yes. Is this...Richard?"

"Wow. You remember my voice. I am flattered." I can be sarcastic in all the wrong timings.

"Where are you, Richard?! Are you out of your mind?! I've warned you! You must've listened to me. I can't help you anymore. You've to turn yourself in. Now."

"Listen to me, sir, I've been receiving messages lately. I was instructed to do what I did. I was told to! There's really someone big behind this. A team. And I still have two more tasks to complete. I know that it's hard for you to help me, but I really need your help. So what do you say?"

Silence grew old. Then came a sigh.

"Are you even listening to yourself?! A team? Tasks? They asked you to go to a civilian's house and knock him down? And you're even asking me to help you. Let me ask you one single question. Do you have a single piece of evidence?"

I chocked on my tongue. I didn't, but I pretended to. Because you lose the debate when you speak no more. Unless you're dead or choking. Or choked to death. I'm full of nonsense.

"No. but I swear it's all true. I know it's impossible to believe, unless you were there, but I need you to side by me. At least this time! I really..."

"Stop! Nothing that you say will change my mind. You're a fugitive now. I can't help you. Turn yourself in and I'll stand by you. I promise I'll do my best to help you out. Not just that, but I will re-go through your fiancée's investigation. And don't worry, I don't think you're going to jail. Just an institution, probably."

"Institution? You mean a mental institution, right? You still think I'm crazy! Oh my g..."

"It doesn't matter what I think! This is the last time I request this. Turn yourself in, Richard. And stop this now."

So someone decided to cut my only thread.

"Remember I came to you for help first."

"Richar..."

I hung up.

Seconds later, I was in my car and driving as far as I can get from the payphone. Another movie tip that was.