I checked everything off my mental list one st time, my hands moving quickly but carefully. Phone. Charger. Purse. ID. Passport. Birth certificate—creased from being folded too many times, but still there. Good.

  I zipped the suitcase halfway, paused, then shoved in a few extra shirts just in case. Everything else stayed behind. The expensive clothes she'd bought me. The lingerie. The things that weren't really mine anyway.

  They felt contaminated, like touching them would somehow tether me back to her.

  "Important documents... all in here," I whispered to myself, needing to hear it out loud. "I think I'm good."

  My heart hammered as I stood there, purse slung over my shoulder, the apartment suddenly feeling smaller, tighter. Like it knew I was leaving and didn't want to let me go.

  All that was left was getting out safely. No hesitation. No looking back. Find a hotel—far, anonymous, somewhere she wouldn't think to look. I'd figure out the rest ter. Right now, survival came first.

  Then it hit me.

  The money.

  My breath caught. Elena always kept cash hidden "just in case." Her words, not mine. The st time I'd seen it, it had been a decent amount—enough to get me through a few nights without needing to rely on anyone.

  I didn't hesitate.

  I walked into the bathroom, my footsteps light, ears straining for sounds that weren't there. The apartment was silent, but my nerves were screaming. I crouched down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink, pushing aside cleaning supplies, a half-empty bottle of bleach, a rolled-up towel.

  There it was.

  An envelope, tucked far back, just like I remembered.

  My hands shook as I pulled it out and opened it. I counted once. Then again, just to be sure.

  Five hundred dolrs.

  A shaky breath left me, half-ugh, half-sob. "Perfect," I murmured.

  I slid the cash into my suitcase, zipped it fully this time, and stood up. My reflection in the mirror looked unfamiliar—eyes wide, skin pale, someone running on pure adrenaline and fear. But beneath that, there was something else.

  Resolve.

  I wasn't asking for permission anymore.

  I wasn't waiting to be saved.

  I adjusted my purse, took one st look around the bathroom, and turned toward the door.

  Time to go—before the apartment remembered how to trap me.

  I flew out the door with my suitcase and purse, not bothering to shut it quietly. The wheels rattled violently against the concrete stairs as I dragged it down, each thud echoing through the empty staircase like a gunshot. I winced but didn't slow down. Quiet didn't matter anymore—distance did.

  My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Every step felt like she might suddenly appear behind me, fingers digging into my arm, yanking me back. I didn't dare look over my shoulder.

  I ran past my neighbors' doors, all of them closed, silent. Normal. Peaceful. Oblivious.

  They had no idea what was happening just a few feet away.

  For a split second, a stupid thought crossed my mind—what if, in some other version of my life, someone opened their door? What if someone saw me and asked if I was okay? Maybe they would've helped. Maybe they would've protected me.

  I shoved the thought away.

  There was no point torturing myself with realities that didn't exist.

  I burst out of the building and sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my phone. My fingers felt clumsy, like they didn't belong to me anymore. I stood there on the sidewalk, exposed, every passing second making my skin crawl.

  Ride. Now.

  I opened the Uber app, my eyes darting around while it loaded, half-expecting to see Elena's car pull up, or one of the women she'd mentioned. Nothing. Just the quiet street and the hum of distant traffic.

  I entered the destination—anywhere far from here.

  Fifty dolrs.

  I let out a shaky sigh. "Whatever," I muttered. Money meant nothing if I didn't make it out. If fifty dolrs bought me distance, then it was worth every cent.

  While I waited, I quickly searched for a pce to stay. Cheap. No questions. I booked the first thing that fit—two nights, fifty-five dolrs.

  The pictures looked bad. Flickering lights. Peeling paint. The kind of pce people warned you about.

  I swallowed hard.

  A sketchy neighborhood was probably still safer than staying.

  I locked my phone, gripping my suitcase tighter as headlights appeared down the street. My ride was coming. My pulse spiked again—not fear this time, but urgency.

  This was it.

  If I got in that car, there was no turning back.

  "Uber for Miguel?" the driver asked.

  Relief washed over me when I saw it was a man. I nodded quickly and lifted my suitcase in with more effort than I wanted to admit, jumping in soon after next to it. My hands shook as I adjusted it, but once the door shut, I finally let myself breathe.

  The ride was quiet. No small talk. No questions. Just the low hum of the engine and the city lights blurring past the window. Perfect. I stared straight ahead, repying everything in my head without really meaning to.

  Did I forget anything?

  No. And even if I had, it didn't matter. Nothing was worth going back.

  My thoughts drifted—uninvited—back to Delih. To Jenny. To all the moments where maybe, just maybe, if I'd done something differently, things wouldn't have ended like this. I clenched my jaw and forced the thoughts away.

  Stop.

  What mattered was now.

  The car slowed, then stopped. I startled slightly, then realized we'd arrived. I thanked the driver quietly, pulled my suitcase from the back, and watched the car disappear down the street before turning toward the hotel.

  The building stood there like it was tired of existing. Flickering lights. Cracked paint. A buzzing sign that looked one strong breeze away from giving up entirely. It was definitely a hotel—just not the kind that made you feel safe.

  I stepped inside.

  The lobby smelled faintly of old carpet and stale air. The man at the front desk barely looked up at first. Dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking out in every direction, like sleep was a luxury he hadn't known in years.

  "Booking for Miguel," I said softly.

  He clicked around on his computer, squinting at the screen, then slid a key across the counter. "First floor," he muttered. Then he paused, looked up at me properly for the first time.

  "Be careful," he added, lowering his voice. "And... try to avoid any women."

  My stomach dropped.

  "O-Okay," I said, nodding even though every nerve in my body screamed. The warning echoed in my head as I picked up the key.

  First floor.

  Closer to the exit.

  That was good. That meant if something went wrong, I could run. I could leave. I wasn't trapped anymore.

  I turned down the hallway, the lights buzzing overhead, my suitcase wheels echoing softly behind me. Each step felt heavy, but underneath the fear was something new.

  I was alone.

  And for the first time in a long time...

  that didn't feel like the worst thing in the world.

  —-

  Donations

  https://ko-fi.com/dayofdarkness666?utm_medium=email&utm_source=onboarding&utm_campaign=SharePage#achievementUnlockedModal