SLOANE
THE BRICKwall of the old, turn-of-the-century townhouse in an older part of town is hot against my palms as I barely poke my head around the corner. My father’s sister, who he’d been estranged from since before I was born, lives in one of the houses in a row of houses that have been here since the age of dinosaurs.
Austin was always her favorite, I think it had something to do with his mother being her best friend when she was alive, but she was still nice to me the few times I saw her. I don’t know where else to go, I don’t dare go back to my apartment, so here I am.
There are two men in suits smoking and pacing along the sidewalk in front of her flat and my heart sinks. Fear skitters up my spine because I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been without a place to go before and panic starts to meld with thefear.
Tears threaten again as I try not to think about the fact that my brother sold me. I take a deep breath and turn to walk in the direction I came from, pushing back the emotions and the tears – something I became very good at after Mama and Daddy died.
Barely able to accept the news about the horrific car crash that killed my parents, fate added to my heartbreak as my brother stormed into the house and made my life increasingly worse. I learned that crying wasn’t going to help anything.
The bottoms of my feet hurt from running and the heat from the cement sidewalk makes the skin prickle with each step. I cross my arms and move quickly to put distance between me and them. The only other person I think might be able to help me is my friend, Amelia, she was my dorm mate in college and we danced together.
The university put us in the same dorm room the first year, but we became so close that we requested a room together every year after that. She became the sister never had and we did everything together.
Amelia sat on my bed and cried with me when I was blindsided by the letter from the university letting me know that repeated attempts had been made to contact my brother for payment. It was too late in the semester to apply for any financial aid and I had to leave.
She auditioned for the dance troop we wanted and made it, I cried happy tears for her and sad tears for myself when she left to go on tour. Sad tears because I was not only losing the person closest to me, but I was also losing the only dream I had.
The downtown city library is cool, especially on my feet, as I walk through the large, iron double doors to the front desk. The older woman sitting there stops whatever she is doing with the book in her hand and looks at me over herglasses that are perched on her nose.
“Can I help you, dear?” Her voice is strong, and she seems a little annoyed that I am interrupting her. I probably look like a big mess.
I lean over the counter a little, my sweaty palms are probably making ugly handprints on the marble countertop, “Uhm, yes, I was mugged just a few minutes ago and my keys and phone are gone, would I be able to use your phone?”
Her stern expression changes instantly as the tightness around her eyes softens and warmth takes over her face tempting me to cry, “Oh dear, of course you can use the phone.”
She stands and waves me over to the other end of the curved counter and sets the landline phone on the countertop in front of me, “Just dial nine to get an outside line.”
I nod and smile, “Thank you so much.”
As I listen to the trill of the ring for the fourth time, I’m silently begging Amelia to answer as the small glimmer of hope starts to fade making my stomach churn.
Just as I am about to set the receiver back into the cradle, I hear Amelia’s voice over the line and I breathe a sigh of relief, “This is Amelia.”
“Oh my God, Amelia, I’m so glad you answered.” I breathe into the phone while I keep my eyes on the front doors.
“Sloane? Is that you? Why does my caller ID say are you calling from a library?”
“It’s a long story, and I will tell you all of it, but I need your help.”
I hear the click of a door close over the phone line and she says, “Of course, what’s going on?”
“My brother has done something terrible and men are looking for me, they have my keys, wallet, and phone and I don’t have any place to go.”
Amelia saw firsthand what a jerk my brother could be the few times she visited me at my parents’ house during summer and winter breaks and he would show up to fight with Daddy about getting more money.
“Have you called the police?” She’s whispering into the phone.
“They were in my apartment, they broke in while I was gone, I don’t think the police can stop these kind of men. I just need a place to hide until I can figure out what to do, can you get me a hotel room and I will pay you back as soon as I can?”
She is quiet for a moment, “This is crazy, Sloane. Of course, I’ll get you a room, but I want to know what is going on after you get checked in, I want to know you are safe and then we need to figure out what to do.”
Some of the fear squeezing me loosens its grip and I take a deep breath, “Thank you, I will call you as soon as I check in.”
Almost Two Years Later
The little diner still smells like breakfast and my mouth is watering as I sip the glass of water in front of me and nibble on the buttered toast that is not only cold but also stale. For some reason, the waitress keeps giving me side-eye as she walks around topping off coffee mugs.
