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The people next to me talk about a show they watched last night, and a couple in front of me holds hands as they walk together out the door. It’s hard for me to fathom that after everything that’s gone wrong in my world, the rest of humanity is just ticking right along.
I didn't want to do this, because I knew that it would be unnecessarily complicated, but I don't know how else to get to her. I wish I could call Marialena, or Quinn. Even Rosa might be able to help me now, but I left without telling anybody where I was going, and I'm all alone down here.
A tall, thin young woman fumbles with her backpack a few steps away from me. She’s in a faded T-shirt and old jeans that look like she's been wearing them since she was a teenager. But she’s holding a cell phone, and that's all I need.
I draw in a deep breath and walk over to her. “Excuse me?”
She stares at me. “Yes?”
“May I use your phone? I… I need to call the police. I need to talk to a police officer.” My voice is shaky and my entire body hums with the rush of adrenaline.
With a sad shake of her head, she holds up her cell phone. "I'm so sorry, I have no service here. And, like, my cell phone is dead. You have to call the police? Are you okay?”
No, no, I’m not okay. I stare at her, abashed.
“They can probably help you inside the office?"
We both look toward the office where they sell tickets. A sign hangs on the door.
Closed.
I shake my head, trying to muster up my courage. The other passengers from the bus scatter like mice, exiting the station, making their way to rideshares.
“Good luck,” she says, and waves as she leaves me.
I’ve never felt so alone.
I muster up my courage and draw a breath. I’m counting up to ten, then back down to one to settle my nerves, when I hear a nasally, cruel voice behind me, so familiar I almost wonder if I’ve fallen asleep and this is all just a nightmare.
"Why do you need to call the police?"
My blood freezes in my veins. It can't be.
No, no, no.
"I have a cell phone. Do you need to make a call?"
I close my eyes and swallow.
He always sounded so nice when he wanted to. When he thought people were looking and listening.
Maybe it's my imagination, my worst fears come to life.
My first thought is, I wish Sergio was here.
My second thought is, I don't need anyone to help me.
I turn and face Seth.
"There you are. Found you. How easy you made it, Eden.” Again, the deceptively calm voice. “We’ve been watching this terminal and the airport. We knew you’d come back for your sister.”
My skin feels prickly and my throat too dry to swallow.
“If you hurt my sister—”
“Now, now,” Seth says, his gaze on me frigid and furious. “You're coming with me. You're my wife. You owe this to me.”
I owe him nothing, and I know that. I shake my head and look around so I can form a plan to escape.
