With five-hundred dollars buried in our pockets, Austin and I strolled through Sydney in search for a vacant hotel room.

That way, we can rest and buy dinner without having our faces recognized by civilians.

Secretly, I wanted to book a hotel where they have a nice suite, free WiFi, and no strangers to talk to. But since I hate spending anything above our budget, Sunshine Inn Motel is my cheapest option.

As soon as we enter the lobby, I went up to the man behind the desk then asked if I can book a room for the night.

He has sandy-colored hair, baby blue eyes, and a dark blond beard. The man has a buttoned up olive green shirt, silky black slacks, and caramel-colored men shoes.

At first, he gave Austin and me an unsure look. But when I gave him two-hundred dollars in cash, the guy simply shrugged his shoulders, took the money, and asked if we would like the the honeymoon suite.

Digging his hands into his pockets, Austin blushed immensely.

"We are not a couple," he insisted.

I sighed embarrassingly. "Technically, we are engaged."

As I tell him this, I held Austin's hand tightly.

"Although it may be the case," I added, "do you have a room with two beds, a lovely bathroom, and good WiFi? I just hate it when he snores."

Austin shoots me a hurtful glare, but I ignored him.

Gleefully, the male receptionist nodded, "We have two of our finest queen-sized beds made out of silk and luxurious fabric. They are in room 269." 

I give him a big grin, thanked the receptionist, then took the keys. 

Grabbing Austin by the arm, I navigated him to the hallways, where it leads us to the bedrooms. The doors were in an oak wood brown and its numbers looked as though they have been dipped in gold.

While I was searching for the room number, I hear Austin retorts: "For the record, I don't snore that loud."

"I know that, doofus." I scoff. "I was just playing the part."

" 'Playing the part' ?" he repeated. "You mean lying?"

"I mean survival," I explain. "Think of it as a script for a play or something."

Austin's brown eyes widen. "Like the one from My Last Breath?"

I bobbed my head carefully.

"Exactly, " I answer. "but with less zombie gore."

Austin laughed. "I guess you are right. Maybe there is more than life itself."

Smiling, I leaned against his shoulder.

"Well duh," I chuckled. 

Looking around the room, I haven't seen the elevator yet, but as soon as we find a room we might be lucky.

Putting on worn smiles, Austin and I tracked down the dark numbers 309,  hoping that the room would have a television, a working shower, and good WiFi.

But when I slid my key card into the door, Austin and I became disappointed when we found despicable brown carpeted floors, the walls were in an ugly pea green color, and the furniture looked as though it has been in an earthquake.

Shoved up against the walls is a small brown table sitting on top of it is a black, miniature television set with a light gray DVD player. Next to the television is a windowpane draped in baby pink curtains. Above us is a spinning ceiling fan bearing cool atmosphere.

"At least they have good air conditioning," said Austin, taking off his heavy backpack and setting it in front of his feet.

Observing the small room, I spot two wooden doors standing across from me.

The one on the left lead to an empty cardboard box sitting on the gray floor, while the other revealed white tiled floors, a small white bathtub, and olive green walls. The toilet stood away from the working sink, and mirror above it was impeccable with fingerprints and dried water droplets. 

"Hey Jack, check this out." Austin whistled, inspecting the two queen-sized beds standing right in front of us.

They both have bleached white bedsheets and two sturdy pillows, but since Austin wasn't overjoyed by the germs absorbed in the mattresses, I ditched my backpack, removed my shoes, and collapsed on the mattress. Sweet lavender soared in my nostrils, as my head rested on the snowy white pillows.

As my worn hands glide along the soft surface, I felt the sudden need to close my eyes. Long, black dreadlocks covered my delicate ears and forehead resting against the pillow. My sweaty feet hang over the ends, absorbing the cool breeze from the ceiling fan. 

"Hell yes." I sigh, breathing into the scent of lavender. "This is totally worth it.

Austin, however, shakes his head in doubt.

"No, it isn't." He moaned. "This hotel room reminds me of my late grandfather."

"Why?" I ask, opening my eyes to see his face. "Because it's old?"

He bitterly shakes his head again. 

"No, because it's depressing and cheap," answered Austin.

I roll my eyes. "Oh come on, Austin—"

"I am being serious," Austin replied. "When he was alive, my grandfather wanted nothing to do with his tax returns."

Sitting upright on the bed, I gave him a meaningful look. 

"I am not talking about your grandfather, " I said in a bored tone. "I am talking about keeping a low profile. Not complaining about how old the walls are." 

"Easy for you to say, " Austin snorts. "Whenever I look at this room, I keep expecting dead bodies to reappear under the bed."

I sighed, getting up from the bed. "I hate this place too, but it's the only hotel that is cheap in Australia."

"Why?" Austin moaned, sitting across from me.

"I don't know, because no one comes here?" I respond unsurely.

Patting the empty space across from me, I added: "Come sleep on the mattress, it's surprisingly comfortable."

Austin shakes his head. "I would rather drink expired milk from a can."

I shrug my shoulders. "Suit yourself." 

Like a small kitten, I curled on top the covers, letting my dreadlocks sweep over my face. 

"Ugh," I said again. "maybe it is nice, you know? Trying to get away from New York."

"Is it because you want to do a movie, or is it because you are afraid of your dad?"

I frown indignantly. "Stop acting like you know everything about me."

Austin inhaled sharply. "Well, stop trying to create mountains out of molehills."

I stare at him in disbelief. "What do you mean by that?"

"You hardly ever told me what is going on with you," he explained.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "Because I don't know how to tell my thoughts to someone."

"Why?"

"Because if I tell someone how I feel, I am afraid that they might use my emotions against me."

"You mean people like your dad?"

"Yep."

"And your mom?" Austin pressed. "What can you tell me about her?"

In an instant, I immediately shut my mouth. 

Even though I couldn't blame Isadora for abandoning Jacob and me, I still hate her for not being a part of my life. Because of her, Joseph abused and neglected us.

Because of her, Jacob had to step in and take care of me while Joseph was drinking his worries away. 

Taking a cool deep breath, I said to Austin that Isadora was the last person I want to talk about.

But like my grade school psychologist, he wouldn't let it go.

"Come on, what was your mom like?" he asked.

"She is a self-centered snob who cares about herself," I answer.

"Really?"

I nod tiredly. "Yes, Austin. She's a two-faced liar and a nightmare come true. Now, can we please drop this?"

"Jack--"

"Please."

Crossing his arms at me, Austin grunted but eventually changes the subject.

"Alright fine," he declared. "I won't talk about your mom, but I don't understand why couldn't we film the movie in Brooklyn? There are a lot of great sites."

"Joseph is a cop, Austin." I responded. "He is an ass, but he is never going to let me go outside with a boy I've met since first grade."

He blushes in embarrassment. 

"Jesus," Austin grunted. "You are right. Sorry for asking that question."

My disgruntled best friend then finally takes his white blond wig off his head, strolled along the floor, and collapsed right beside me.  As his dark brown eyes were glued to my hair, Austin's hands sat patiently on his lap, waiting for something to do. 

Clearing his throat, he inquired: "So tomorrow, we will be starting our movie, right?" 

I gave him a confirmed nod. "Yeah, we need to write an amazing script, do the scenes, and then maybe, we will find someone who wants to do the project with us."

Austin gives me a doubtful frown.  

"Okay, but how are we going to get someone to be in our film? We are hiding from the public, remember?"

I let out a sigh. 

"Shit, he is right." I thought miserably.

If Warren or Joseph discovered where we are, they will throw us in jail.

"Oh, man what can we do?" I ask. "We need to find at least a fifteen-year-old girl who could play the part."

"Yeah, but who?" sighed Austin. "No one wants to be in a movie with two runaways."

Just then an unexpected knock on the door alerted us.

Though the noise appeared to be soft and welcoming, Austin and I fearfully looked into each other's eyes, worrying that it was Joseph standing behind the door.

"If we are quiet, " I whisper. "Then the person might go away."

Keeping his voice down, Austin asked: "How does your dad know where we are?" 

"Have you called anyone recently?"

He shakes his head no.

"Maybe it could be the janitor or something," I suggested.

Again, the knock bang softly on the door, daring us to

"I'll open the door." I sighed.

Austin gives me a shocked look. "Woman, are you crazy?"

"Just trust me on this, " I pleaded, slowly getting out of bed.

Although he hated the idea, Austin quickly donned his blond wig while I reluctantly staggered towards the entrance, then opened it.

In front of me, I saw a fifteen-year-old girl with curly dark brown hair, baby brown eyes, and moon pale skin.

She wears a creamy orange tank top, skinny jeans, and pink high tops. Secured on her head was a woolen magenta cap with a knitted orange butterfly in the center.

Though her choice in fashion is different, I immediately recognized the girl's face from before.

"Erykah?" I murmured. "Is that you?"

Surprised, Austin hopped out of bed and saw Erykah standing in the doorway, looking nervous.

"Erykah?" He cried. "You mean that runaway chick we helped in Manhattan?"

I nod very slowly. "Yeah."

Approaching the girl, Austin hissed, "I thought you were in some Christian orphanage!"

"I am," Erykah replied weakly. "But I ran away."

Our eyes both widen with horror.

"Ran away?" I screamed. "What do you mean, ran away ?"