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I’d made it to California unscathed, but I didn’t have anything but the clothes on my back.
No money.
No food.
No place to stay.
No ID.
I was so relieved to have escaped that I couldn’t bring myself to care if I was essentially homeless. I felt like a fugitive, only it wasn’t the authorities I was running from.
It was someone much, much worse.
I knew I needed to leave the beach and try to find somewhere to stay for the night, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
My dark hair whipped around my shoulders from the wind blowing off the water. I pushed it away from my face and tilted my head up, inhaling the salty crisp air. I so rarely had the opportunity to smell fresh air. It was something so simple that most people took for granted.
There were a lot of things that I used to take for granted.
“Hey.”
I jumped at the sound of the female voice beside me. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard her approach.
Her long dirty-blond hair whipped around her shoulders, and she had bright, clear green eyes. A few freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and her skin was bronzed from the sun.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern ringing clear in her voice. “I’m not trying to sound nosy, but you’ve been here for hours, and you haven’t moved.”
“I’m fine.” I tried to smile reassuringly while also moving the slightest bit away.
Trust no one, I reminded myself.
But at the same time, I also realized that the chances of the woman working for him were slim. More than likely she was an innocent bystander that couldn’t understand my weirdness.
“If you need anything, I’ll be over there.” She pointed to an aqua-colored towel. “I’m Talia, by the way.”
I nodded, but didn’t give her my name. She smiled like she hadn’t expected me to.
“That’s my boyfriend Ollie.” She pointed at a tall guy with deeply-tanned skin and floppy, blond hair that curled nearly to his shoulders. He stood by the water’s edge speaking to a guy with dreads. “If you can’t find me you can go to him.”
I nodded once.
I wouldn’t need either of them.
She seemed to sense that and moved on with a little half-wave.
I was sure I’d come across as rude to the stranger, but it was a natural reaction for me.
I’d spent so long surrounded by the worst of the worst that I couldn’t recognize genuine people when I saw them.
Everyone was evil in my eyes.
I began to draw in the sand with the tip of my finger. I started simple, drawing the side profile of a guy a few feet away. I loved drawing; it was one of the few things in life I’d been allowed that actually brought me joy.
I wished I had a sketchpad and some pencils, but right at that moment that was pretty low on the priority list.
My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, but I was used to going unfed.
I stood and dusted the sand from my jeans and shoved my closed fists into the pockets of my ratty black hoodie.
