The guard waved them over urgently.
I stepped outside before they could even enter, fear surging again—what if he came back now? What if this was the moment?
The female officer approached first. Her name tag read REYES.
“Ma’am,” she said gently, eyes scanning me for injuries. “We received a distress call. What’s going on?”
My throat closed reflexively. Instead of forcing sound, I lifted my hands and signed slowly, clearly:
I have difficulty speaking.
They exchanged a quick glance—not skeptical, not dismissive. Just professional.
Officer Reyes nodded. “Okay. That’s fine.” She softened her voice. “We’ll take you to the station. You can write everything out there. We’ll get a translator if needed. Does that work for you?”
Relief crashed through me so hard my vision blurred.
I nodded vigorously.
I turned back to the guard and signedthank you, fingers clumsy with exhaustion.
He gave me a small, awkward salute. “Stay safe.”
I climbed into the back of the patrol car. The door closed with a solid, comforting thud.
The interior smelled like vinyl, stale coffee, and faint disinfectant. It felt mundane.
Safe.
Officer Reyes turned slightly from the front seat. “We’ll get your statement, run a safety check, figure out what’s happening. You’re safe now.”
The words hit something fragile inside me.
I exhaled—a long, trembling breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
The patrol car pulled away from the curb.
Streetlights slid past the windows in steady rhythm. The city returned—traffic hum, distant horns, the ordinary noise of people living their lives.
I leaned my head against the cool glass, eyes closing for just a second.
I escaped.
I got help.
I’ll explain everything.
The forced marriage. The threats. The accusations. They would listen. They had to.
This was America. There were laws. Courts. Rules that mattered. No one could just judge me, and punish me for sins I hadn’t committed.
The car merged smoothly onto the boulevard.
My heartbeat slowed.
My body finally began to relax.
Then the world vanished.
