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I clench my jaw.
I have to leave before I cause more damage. Before Bridget finds me and grabs hold of my biggest weakness.
Fast, silent, I unlock the door.
When I’m out, when I’m sure Reese is dreaming, and Bishop and Jin are too far away to hear, I don’t look back.
I sprint.
Filling my lungs with clean, cold air, I tell myself the itch in my eyes is from wearing the same pair of green contacts way too long.
Soon, I’ll purge the rest of this disguise.
The slums suit my mood.
I hop bottle shards and flattened fast food bags without breaking stride.
Back in the day, East Meadow Steel supplied every skyscraper in the city. Now the manors of fallen metal barons are knee-high with reeds, and boarded-up windows are more common than ones with lights.
It’s the perfect place to hide from cops or a shady government agency. As your needs may be.
Taking advantage of the decay, I follow the permanent street map burned into my memories, cutting through alleys and abandoned yards.
The bus station isn’t far.
I’ll pay cash for a ticket and be untraceable.
No CCTV in this zip code. I’ve got no phone. No way for anyone to capture me, ever again.
But the road to freedom has one last memory minefield, ready to blast me with spiritual shrapnel.
The abandoned ball park.
Cutting across the field is the fastest way to the station.
I jog down a hill of ratty grass and cigarette butts, onto the dirt packed dense with memories stronger than my need to flee.
Kayden and Jayden used to drag me here, needing me to hold their gear and be their target when they wanted to act tough. My first set of foster brothers was a year older than me, and they always loved putting me in my place.
Bringing me to the field was the only time they ever put me in the right place.
I’d watch Reese pitch for hours.
Dutch played catcher while Jin and Bishop took turns hitting.
I snuck here every chance I could, until Reese couldn’t help but notice. Instead of turning me away, he taught me how to pitch and catch and hit a ball.
I was terrible.
Your hand-eye coordination sucks when you grow up not being able to play—I was too busy changing diapers and washing Vivian’s nasty heat sheets.
But Reese was patient.
Gentle.
Days the guys didn’t show, I never got picked to play.
But when they did?
