When I walk out the door into the dark alley, it hits me. Silence. I can actually hear myself think. The feeling I usually have after a fight isn’t there. I feel good, but I don’t feel at peace. I could go to a bar, have a few drinks. I could pick up a woman, but even that doesn’t interest me right now. I need out of this fog I’m in. What I need is a mission; that always calms my mind.
Karina
The cellphone ringing brings me out of my autopilot state, and I swerve a little bit on the freeway. I don’t know how the hell I haven’t crashed when I allowed myself to check out like that. I pick up the phone and see my sister’s name on the caller ID.
I want to answer it so badly. Tears spring to my eyes because I want to tell Kassie what’s going on, but that would be doing what Blake’s twin brother wants me to do: draw out the others so he can get at them. No, I can’t rely on my family or let them know what’s happening. I’m not going to put them in danger.
I silence the phone and notice that my gas reading tells me that I’m almost on empty—again. It will be the third time I’m filling up since I started my escape from Los Angeles. I take the next exit and use the last of my cash I have since I withdrew it at an ATM somewhere in Arizona.
Where am I, anyway?
I use the gas station restroom to wash my face and try to revive my tired, weary eyes. According to my watch, I’ve been driving for twelve hours. Somehow, I still feel like I’m not nearly far enough away.
By some miracle, I haven’t been in an accident or pulled over, and I figure I’m doing okay. I just have to keep going.
“What city is this?” I ask the clerk on my way out of the gas station.
He looks up and his eyes round when he sees me. I know I look bad, exhausted, and a little out of it. “This is Albuquerque.... New Mexico.”
“Thank you.” I nod and turn to go.
I hear the clerk ask me if I’m okay, but I just keep going. I want... no, I need to keep moving and put more distance between myself and Blake’s twin.
Once on the road, my phone keeps ringing. First Kassie and then Hollywood. I’ve kept sending them to voicemail, but now, I put my phone on silent because they are not giving up. I know I need to talk to them, but first I need a plan.
On the freeway, I continue driving northeast. Every scenario plays out in my mind for when the twin catches up with me. I’ve tried to make sure I’m not being followed, but I’m not a professional by any means. I’m scared, but the more miles that go by, the angrier I get. I don’t want to be a pawn to be used by men like him to hurt my family. I want to take back the power and fight, but to do that, I know I need to lead him as far away from my family as possible and still give myself time to prepare for his arrival.
Almost eight hours and two gas stops later, I rub my hands across my face and stretch in the seat when I look at my dash again. The check engine light is on. The little arrow that points out if the engine is cold or hot is in the red zone, and I barely make it another mile before the hood is smoking. I take the very next exit and note it says Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. There’s a sign for a car repair and gas one mile ahead, and I pray that I make it.
Just as I’m pulling in, a big guy comes out and is closing his garage doors to the shop when he turns to glare at me. He’s big, covered in tattoos, and just looks like a man I wouldn’t want to meet in a deserted parking lot.
What am I doing here? I don’t have the money to fix this hunk of junk.
I get out of the car, and the hard look on the guy’s face softens. “We’re about to close, but it looks like you’re having a rough go of it.”
The way he’s looking at me, I don’t know if he’s talking about me or the car. I haven’t showered. I know I’m a mess, but my car is now smoking so badly I’m just waiting for the flames to start shooting out of it.
I look down at myself and notice that there’s a tear in my blouse across the shoulder, and the top three buttons are missing. On top of that, there’s blood spatter from hitting the twin with my keys on my shirt and neck. How did I miss that when I washed my face? With the shirt hanging open the way it is, I can see the bruises forming on my shoulders where he grabbed and held me.