Page 9 of Day Break

I walked until my feet hurt. Then I walked some more. I grew hungry and tired. Thirsty. I continued walking.

When I came to the water, I thought of stopping or turning around. Then I noticed a ferry a few yards down the road.

I paid five dollars and eighty cents to cross Puget Sound and head to Whidbey Island. I’d never been on an island before. But I figured it was as good as any place.

One thing was sure—I no longer wanted to be in the city. In the last year, I’d heard horror stories from others about how bad the homeless situation had become in Seattle.

Women who had no place to go were being raped or killed. Many of the women in the facility with me had been caught on purpose, just to escape the nightmare.

It took half an hour to cross the dark water. By then, the sun had set and the warm spring sun had disappeared, leaving only the chill of the night.

Even if I wanted to go back, I couldn’t. I no longer had enough money for the crossing.

I stepped off the ferry and glanced around.

There was a small park to the right, and I noticed a sign for public restrooms under a light. I made my way over there and used the facilities and washed up.

Since I’d showered earlier that morning and had braided my long hair back, it didn’t take me long. There was no heat in the small room and somehow it felt even colder than outside.

There was a busy restaurant across the road, but I had no money, so I turned to the right and once more began walking. I didn’t stop until I felt a pebble in my shoe. Only then did I sit down in the grass by the side of the road and pull it off.

Once I was off my feet, my body screamed for rest.

Tossing my backpack in the grass a few yards from the road, I pulled on my other jacket and shut down.

One thing I’d learned in the past year was to listen to your body. When it needed sleep, you slept.

I woke to the sound of a rooster in the distance. It startled me at first. I’d never heard it before.

Having lived in a controlled environment my entire life, I’d always believed it was a made-up thing. Roosters didn’t really crow at the break of dawn.

Now I knew they did.

Somehow, the sound broke through one of those barriers that I’d been building up my entire life.

For a brief moment, I dreamed of having a rooster just so I could wake to the happy sound each morning.

Then a car passed by on the road, the sound of it jolting me back to reality.

Dusting myself off, I gathered my items and started walking again.

I didn’t make it far before a truck pulled over. An older man smiled at me through the open window.

“How far are you going?” he called to me.

I glanced around, as if thinking.

“I’m heading to Greenbank. You can ride with me that far if you want,” he called out.

What difference did it make to me? Here? Greenbank?

I climbed in the truck without a word. I set my bag at my feet and enjoyed the warmth of the truck.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Sure thing,” the man said as he pulled back onto the road. “Everyone calls me Buddy.”

“Chloe,” I responded.