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Gabriel rose from the bed elegantly, but Porter could see how tightly his jaw was clenched. The closer his father moved to him, the more Porter wanted to fight back. He was so sick of getting beat on, so tired of just taking it. How would his father react if he took some of that training he had been forced into and kicked his ass?
But Porter knew that wouldn't happen. Gabriel was a big man in both height and weight. And he was still so small.
"Say that again, bitch. Go on. Tell me no."
Bitch.No longer son. The hatred was back in his eyes and the need to gather his father's approval had died again. Porter just wanted to get away.
"It was only a question," he said softly. "I apologize, father. Of course I'll go with you tomorrow."
Gabriel smacked him sharply, his head shooting to the side. "Of course you will."
Porter watched the man stroll out, not a care in the world. As soon as his door closed, Porter started to move. He grabbed a bag and began to pack it with clothes that were hidden deep in the back of his closet.
He hadn't worn feminine clothes in a long time. When his father found out last time, it had resulted in a lot of pain. So, Porter had packed away his pretty things, shoved them in the back of his closet, and killed off another part of himself. Now, however, being able to have a disguise might help him.
Porter realized he couldn't take anything but those clothes, a few wigs he'd stashed away, some makeup and a bit of cash he had. That was it. If he took his phone, it could be tracked. Laptop, credit cards? Same thing. He glanced around the lavish bedroom that he was in. It was an odd feeling, giving up a seat in the lap of luxury and trading it in for what Porter knew was going to be a life of hardship. But it was better than what he had to deal with now, a jail cell with a warden who thrived on his pain.
Once everything was packed, Porter sat on his bed and waited. There were always guards patrolling, but he knew their schedules. He tried to calm his breathing and his heart that tried to beat out of his chest. It wasn't until early in the morning when he knew it was time to move.
Porter snatched up his bag and opened his bedroom window. Throwing it over his shoulder he looked down and swallowed thickly. There was a good chance if he got things wrong he would end up falling and breaking a few bones if he didn’t die.
The risk is worth it.
Even the smallest chance that he could get away was worth taking. Porter climbed out of his window and grabbed onto the trellis. He hadn't escaped that way in a long time. Porter carefully picked his way down the white structure, covered in roses. Each prick of the thorns as they dug into his flesh was like torture, but he continued to crawl down, picking his way along before he hopped to the ground.
Silence. Glorious silence. He turned and ran.
The air was stolen from Porter's lungs as he sprinted for the gate. He knew the code, but it would alert a guard if he wasn't careful so he opted to throw his bag over the wall and scale it. By the time he was on the other side he was scuffed up, tired, panting. And he still needed to find a ride.
Cool air nipped at his skin as he wound through the roads. The house was close enough to civilization that it shouldn’t be too hard to find a ride, but he had to make his way down several dark alleys and roads before he would get there. Exhaustion from the past few weeks settled into him and Porter prayed for someone, anyone to get the hell away before his father found out what he was up to. Lifting his head, he spotted the bright yellow of a taxi parked down the road and ran for it before he practically threw himself inside.
"Where do you want to go?" the man asked nervously.
"Anywhere. Just go!"
As soon as the taxi took off, Porter leaned his head back against the seat. He'd made it. For once, he hadn't been caught and dragged back inside. Porter glanced at himself in the window and his triumphant smile faded.
Now what?
The ride felt as if it went on forever, but he knew he couldn't stop anywhere near home. His father's men were everywhere. While the man drove, Porter changed in the backseat. It was easy to switch into a pencil skirt and a top that showed off a little belly. He opted for a dark wig that fell down to his shoulders and started to apply makeup. When he glanced up the cab driver stared at him.
"What?" Porter asked defensively, his shoulders tensing.
"I wasn't going to say anything rude," the man said quickly. "Just that you look like a different person. And you look nice."
Porter frowned softly, his shoulders dropping. "Sorry. I'm a little jumpy, but thank you."
He shoved his feet into flats and stared at his reflection in his hand mirror. It felt...strange to be in this kind of clothing again. He could hear his father's voice, laughing at him, telling him that he was a joke. Porter shut the mirror quickly, stuffing it into his bag when he realized they crossed city lines. They were no longer in Bellatrix, they were in Silvercross City.
He'll never think that I came here. If I can hide out here for a while maybe I can make enough to go somewhere else.
"Stop here." Porter glanced around as the taxi pulled up to the curb and passed the driver most of his cash. "Here you are. Thank you."
"Whatever's going on with you, be safe kid." He glanced around them. “This isn’t exactly a good neighborhood.”
Porter's eyes watered at his kindness. "Thank you."
Besides Amy, that was the first person to ever show him any sympathy or concern. And now there was no more Amy.Porter was alone.
