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Why was he being so nice? Did he feel guilt for putting me through all they did?
He’d sure as hell turned a blind eye for the last two days so it didn’t seem likely.
“Let me grab you a blanket, my child,” he said as he stood. The moment the door closed behind him, I knew this was my only chance. Trying not to let panic squeeze at my chest, I went to the first window, throwing the small statuette he had there off to the side and praying it opened.
Apparently, some god, somewhere, was listening. It opened with a creak of protest, and I only slammed my hand against the screen a few times before it fell into the bushes below.
Thank fuck his office was on the ground floor, or this would have gone very differently.
The moment my feet hit the grass, I started to run. My mind was so stressed that every turn presented a new and increasingly more terrifying hallucination to torment me.
This might be the moment my mind breaks for good.
But there was no way I’d skip over an opportunity like this, even if it meant running until I was eighteen and out of my grandmother’s clutches. I was fueled on desperation and refused to second guess myself.
The trip home was quick since the church was only a few blocks away, and I had my backpack on in seconds. There was nothing here that meant a damn thing to me, my life had been one shitty guardian after another.
If I lingered, my moment of freedom would be ripped away as ruthlessly as Grandma possibly could.
Luckily, I had made a grab bag months ago, the tension between my grandmother and me only rising as my mental state declined. I was leaving everything else behind except my emergency stash of cash I’d collected over the last few years.
Originally, I was waiting for eighteen, but it seemed the church and my grandmother changed my plans.
The lady at the bus depot didn’t ask questions as I bought my ticket. I just hoped I could hop buses before she got my description to the police I knew they’d all send. Maybe the Bishop and his conscience would give me a head start.
The bus smelled like sweat and gasoline as I made my way down the small aisle to an empty seat. I ignored the looks as I passed the other passengers. It felt like everyone was always watching me, but my therapist had always reassured me that wasn’t true.
Yet when I glanced up, I saw more than one gaze locked on me. Maybe it was a dirty, gaunt omega that had them curious, or they saw right through my calm façade.
Their attention made me curl in on myself, hating the way it felt to be watched. I was always the reject, the freak and knew that I was covered in grime from the failed exorcism and likely smelled terrible.
My body ached and all I wanted was to curl into a nest. Too bad I’d never had one.
Sliding into the window seat I hunched in on myself, angling my head to look out the window and not at them. The bus started moving, and I went into that bored happy place I’d learned to find. Thankfully, the roar of the engine lulled me into a quiet trance.
Even in the reflection I looked like a mess. My blonde hair was limp and oily, my green eyes dull and lined in dark circles. I needed sleep, food, and about ten fucking showers.
“Shit,” I cursed as a shadowed face appeared in the window, making me jump. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered that same mantra I always did in my head, begging it to disappear.
You’re not real.
It’s just a hallucination.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was gone. The only thing I could see was the traffic in the next lane and buildings passing by.
No matter where this bus ride ended, I’d have to learn to live with these monsters.
There’s no medication on the street.
Harlow
Three Years Later
Friday Night
My heart raced as I bolted through the streets of Ridgefield. At every turn I had to shove through a crowd of people spilling out of the bars and into the night.
I’d chosen the busiest part of the city so I’d be able to escape through the crowd if I needed to. Something that was working in my favor tonight.
