My gaze drifts to Mirabella again.
If he learns what I really did, what choice would he have?
Family comes before everything in their world.
Even before love.
I suck in a breath to shore up my resolve and my strength. I need to be smarter this time.
More careful.
I’m exhausted but can’t climb into bed without washing the day’s fear and violence from my body.
The bathroom is bigger than my last apartment, a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.
I let the scalding water pour over me, washing away the grime and fear.
My muscles ache as they finally begin to relax.
How long has it been since I had a proper shower?
Not the three-minute rinses in motel bathrooms with questionable water pressure and even more questionable cleanliness.
Not crouching over Mirabella in a bathtub with lukewarm water, keeping one eye on the door.
The endless hot water and moment of safety feel like an obscene luxury after living in hiding and the last few weeks on the run.
I reach for the expensive shampoo on the marble shelf, pouring a generous amount into my palm.
My fingers work the lather through my tangled hair, massaging my scalp until I nearly moan with pleasure.
When was the last time I felt human?
Truly human?
I could stay here forever, letting the water wash away everything.
The blood, the fear, the lies.
But it can't wash away the truth.
I shut off the tap reluctantly, wrapping myself in a plush white robe hanging on the hook.
I’m grateful it’s here as I don’t want to put on my clothes again and our belongings are back in New Jersey.
I’ve left everything behind. Again.
I drag my fingers through my wet hair, noting the original color coming back as I work out how I’m going to replenish our basic needs.
Clothes.
Toothbrushes.
Something for Mirabella to play with.
For a brief, ridiculous moment, I imagine a shopping trip. But not to shop. No, as a chance to escape.
To run again.
