Fleeing

My legs hurt as I run to my car, quickly climbing in. I look around me as I pull out of the street and speed through the city. Panting and crying, I can’t relax. My eyes are constantly looking around me.

Every car that looks like theirs has me turning to look. Every person, everything, has me on edge.

My eyes look down as the tears roll across my face, the blood on my clothes and hands.

Deciding to stop, I take out my phone, delete the app, and then turn it off before driving again. I planned this, and I have a place far enough away to go and hide.

The issue is, I am scared they are following. Fear trembles through my body. I wish I could say once I get there, I will be fine, but how can I be? It will take time for me to feel free and like I haven’t been followed.

Two hours into driving, I stop and park the car, ensuring it is a fair distance from where I am staying. If it isn’t close and they find my car, I have time to escape.

I am constantly scanning the street as I rush through them to the apartment block. Walking in, I look around and find number twelve, a man standing outside the door waiting.

“Trixie?” He welcomes me with a smile, and I nod. I watch as he moves slowly, his hand holding out keys.

Taking them, I look behind me, worried that someone might be following. As I turn back to him, I watch as he looks across me and sees the blood.

“Everything is ready to be moved into. As I said, it is furnished, so if you need anything, let me know.” I watch as he walks away, but now worry floods through me that someone could be inside there.

He didn’t do open the door, show me inside, or anything. Unlocking the door, I step inside and quickly lock the door. I scan the apartment twice to ensure no one is hidden inside. I don’t even notice the furniture or anything else.

Once I am satisfied the apartment is empty, I walk to the window, my eyes watching the cars and people passing by.

After hours, I fall to the floor beneath the window and cuddle myself as I cry. I wish I could tell someone, but I know if I tell my dad, it will be a mess, I know he won’t let this go, and I ruin everyone’s lives.

This is my mistake, and only I should suffer. After hours sat beneath the window, I begin to look around at the apartment before me. The small sofa is dirty and stained. The carpets are grubby and worn.

The kitchen is barely a kitchen. It is connected to the living area. I don’t bother taking in the bathroom or the smaller bedroom. I walk to the main one and climb into the bed, uncaring about the dirty.

It’s safer than where I was, and that right now is all that matters. I turn on my phone to check for messages from family.

As soon as it powers up, it begins to vibrate and notify me of messages, each one getting worse, the missed calls getting ignored. Hitting the email, I listen to the first one.

You ran. I know where you are.

I hang up and decide not to listen to anymore. The phone will be kept purely for keeping in touch with my family. I will get a new number for jobs and things, but not even my family will get it.

I don’t want to give it out. I know that if I give it to my family, they will. I have a plan, I will leave once a week to get food, then after a month, I will start to look for a job.

The less time I spend outside now, the better. I have money for two months’ rent, so I don’t need a job right now.

I saw it too late, opened my eyes when I only had one way to escape.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep. I wake hearing a scream, my body jumping and trembling, as I curl into a ball in the corner. The scream quickly follows with laughter. Sneaking to the window I peer out and watch as a woman and man walk along the street cuddled together laughing.

Walking to the bathroom, I ignore the dirt and grime before stepping into the shower. The water rushes over me. My hands are now scrubbing away the blood. As I do, I ignore the scars, the scratches, the cuts, and the bruises. Then, I climb back in bed, and hide away.

The marks are a reminder of everything that happened the past year.