Chapter 18 - The Runaway Bride (4)

Ayra was well aware she only had a small window of time before Simon realized his card was missing and blocked it. Every second counted.

Her first stop was a car rental office she knew since she was a kid. Obviously. 

The nondescript building, squeezed between a laundromat and a pawnshop, was the kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions. 

Inside, the air smelled strongly of coffee and air freshener. Uncle Jim - the man who owned the place - was severely addicted to caffeine. 

The clerk, a young man with messy hair and a bored attitude, barely glanced up as Ayra approached the counter. 

“How can I help you?” he drilled, looking like he did not actually want to help her in any way. 

“I need to rent a car,” Ayra said, keeping her voice calm.

The clerk slid a form across the counter. “Fill this out. ID and payment when you’re done.”

"No ID," she said, handing over Simon’s card.

He grunted and swiped the card, handed it back, and pulled out a set of keys.

“Parking lot, stall eight. Sedan,” he mumbled, already moving on to the next customer.

Ayra nodded and walked out, her hands gripping the keys tightly. 

....

Ayra’s hands gripped the steering wheel of the rented sedan as she navigated the streets of the city. 

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the city. Ayra knew she had to act quickly, but she wished Simon would just take her card and keep using it. 

Her next stop was a grocery store. She parked the car at the far end of the lot, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary - though what exactly she didn't know - before heading inside, a face cap over her head and her newly bought hoodie pulled up. 

The store was relatively empty, which was a relief, but she noted the cameras and made sure to keep her face down as she moved about. 

She grabbed a cart and moved briskly through the aisles, her list of priorities clear in her mind. 

First, she picked up cleaning supplies: a mop, sponges, detergent, garbage bags, and a few cans of disinfectant spray. 

She had a clear destination but had no idea what state the place would be in. It had been years after all. 

Next, she moved to the food section. Ayra grabbed mostly non-perishable items - cans of soup, pasta, rice, and a few protein bars. 

She added bottled water and a small carton of milk, just enough to get her through the next few days. 

Fresh fruits and vegetables weren’t an option sadly; she didn’t know when she’d have refrigeration.

Finally, Ayra detoured to the personal care aisle and picked up some essentials: toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a comb. 

Her cart was full enough to raise questions if someone were paying attention, but she doubted the disinterested cashier would care. 

At the register, she forced a smile and handed over Simon’s card. The clerk barely glanced at her as the transaction went through. 

A belated wave of relief washed over her as she grabbed her bags and wheeled the cart back to the car. She loaded everything into the trunk, returned the cart, and quickly drove away.

After that point was an ATM. She went to a place totally opposite of where she was actually headed and pulled out several wads of bills from Simon's account. Hard cash was best in her situation. 

---

The city skyline gradually gave way to suburban sprawl and, eventually, to the countryside. 

Ayra took the back roads, humming as she drove, avoiding major highways to stay off the radar. She drove for over an hour, the tension in her shoulders easing with each passing mile. 

The landscape grew quieter, the hum of city life replaced by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of trees.

Finally, she reached the edge of the forest, the road narrowing to a dirt path lined with tall pines. 

Memories of her mother flooded back. The cabin had been their sanctuary, a hidden retreat where they had spent countless weekends during school vacations. 

Her mother had assured her that no one else knew about it - not Lisbeth, not her father, no one. Having stayed apart from them for the better part of ten years, it was easy to hide. 

Ayra parked the car at the end of the path and stepped out, the crunch of gravel underfoot echoing in the stillness. 

She grabbed a flashlight from the trunk and slung the grocery bags over her arms before heading toward the cabin. 

The trail was overgrown, branches snagging at her sleeves, but the sight of the familiar wooden structure ahead filled her with a bittersweet sense of relief.

The cabin was small and weathered, its wooden walls darkened by time and exposure to the elements. 

The front porch sagged slightly, and the windows were caked with dirt. Ayra set the bags down and fished a rusty key from her pocket. 

It turned with some difficulty, the lock protesting after years of disuse, but the door eventually creaked open.

She stepped inside and flicked on the flashlight, the beam illuminating the dusty interior. 

The cabin smelled of must and decay, and cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling. Furniture was covered with white sheets, which had yellowed over time. 

Despite the state of disrepair, Ayra felt a sense of comfort. It was isolated, forgotten by the world, and, most importantly, safe.

---

She spent the next few hours cleaning. She stripped the sheets from the furniture, coughing as dust filled the air. 

The mop and disinfectant spray proved invaluable as she scrubbed the wooden floors and wiped down the counters. 

By the time she was done, the cabin looked livable, though it was far from perfect.

Ayra set up a small sleeping area in the corner of the main room, laying out a blanket and pillow she’d found in a closet. 

She unpacked the groceries and placed them on the kitchen counter, then stored the cleaning supplies under the sink. 

The milk and bottled water went into an old cooler she found, packed with ice from the nearby creek.

As she worked, memories of her mother surfaced. She could almost hear her mother’s laugh echoing through the cabin, feeling the warmth of her presence. 

The thought brought a lump to her throat. 

Ayra's mother had been the only person in her life who had truly cared for her, who had fought for her when no one else would.

Now, Ayra was fighting for herself.

She stood at the cabin window, staring out into the dark forest. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting eerie shadows on the ground. 

Ayra’s mind raced with thoughts of what would come next. She had no illusions that this would be her permanent refuge. The cabin was a temporary solution, a place to regroup and plan her next move.

But for tonight, it was enough.

Ayra locked the door and wedged a chair under the handle for extra security. She sat on the makeshift bed, exhaustion settling over her. 

For the first time in days, she allowed herself to breathe, to feel the weight of her escape lift, if only slightly.

As she lay down, the events of the past few days played through her mind like a relentless reel. 

She didn’t know how long she could stay ahead of her father and Lisbeth, or what sacrifices she might have to make to keep her freedom. 

Heck, she had no idea how to get out of the city quite yet but one thing was certain - she wasn’t going back.

An opportunity would come. 

And in the quiet solitude of the cabin, she allowed herself to drift into a restless sleep, her dreams filled with flickering shadows and the sight of Lisbeth sitting in her room the night before her wedding.