When I reach my car, I stop to survey it. I walk around it carefully, crouching to inspect the tires and the rear bumper. I don’t see anything with wires or explosives, but that doesn’tmean much. I’m sure professional hitmen are a lot savvier than I am. If there was anything I could easily recognize as a death device, it probably would be more of a warning than an actual attempt on my life. I’m just going to have to take my chances, since I can’t stand around here all day.
I put my things on the passenger seat and slide behind the wheel. So far, so good; nothing explodes. I stick my key in the ignition, leaving the door open. I think I read somewhere that if a car bomb goes off, leaving the door open will allow you to be blown free. I hope that’s the case. Or rather, I hope there’s no bomb to begin with.
I turn the engine on and hold my breath. The normal sound of the motor starting is the only thing that registers. It looks like I’m okay to drive. I decide to go back to my apartment and pack some things. If Frankie hasn’t tried to kill me yet, maybe he’ll hold off a little while longer.
I’m a bundle of nerves as I traverse the city streets. Every red light is panic inducing because I think someone is going to pull up next to me and open fire. I can’t get home quick enough, but once I’m back on familiar ground, my fears only get worse.
The walk from my car to my apartment is torture. I’m sure that someone is going to spring out of the shadows and attack me. I’m shaking by the time I open my front door, but inside isn’t any better.
I charge through the apartment, opening every closet door and checking under every surface. I look in places a hitman couldn’t possibly squeeze into, including a chest at the foot of my bed and behind my couch. There’s no one there.
I sit down heavily, needing a rest before packing. This whole thing has me on edge, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive. What if Frankie doesn’t come for me today? How long will I have to wait, jumping at every loud noise? I wonder if that is the big punishment he has planned for me. Maybe he thinks he’s going to sit back and let my own demons drive me crazy.
I’m not going to let him do that. I make up my mind to keep putting one foot in front of the other until I’m physically stopped. No more of this second-guessing myself and holding my breath all the time. If Frankie wants to kill me, fine. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. But until then, I’m going to live my life on my terms.
That doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around and pretend that I don’t have a target on my back. I’m leaving today as soon as I grab my things. But I’m not going to look over my shoulder or leave the car door open every time I start the engine. I have to keep some semblance of a normal life, or I’m going to burn out.
Having decided, I feel a sense of peace come over me. In that moment, I realize I’m sad my relationship with Frankie is over. He seems like a good person, if you forget about his family for the moment. But then I remember he stole all my research, and I scowl.
“Good riddance,” I snap to the four walls.
They don’t answer me, which is good. I don’t need to add a psychotic break on top of everything else I’m dealing with. I go to the bedroom and pack a large suitcase, putting in everything I might need to last me a week or two. Then I walk down to the rental office and pay the next month’s rent. I’m not sure if I’ll be back, but this way I can buy myself some time.
I haul the suitcase out to my car and stick it in the trunk. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I purposefully close the door as if to prove to myself that I’m not afraid. I start driving, knowing exactly where I’m going and how long it will take to get there.
I didn’t throw away my phone, but I turned it off. I’m hoping that whoever is after me can’t trace it when there’s no power. But I realize I’m not an expert on espionage technology. This whole escape plan has some major holes in it, but I’m doing my best.
The first thing I want to do is touch base with my parents. If I have to go on the run, I want them to know that I’m okay. They’ve already lost one child to the mafia, though they think it was a suicide. The thought of them losing another child is heartbreaking, but I’m not sure how to avoid it.
They live about four hours away by car. I don’t usually drive without stopping, but this time is different. I don’t even pull over for gas, and by the end of the journey, I’m watching my meter carefully. It says I only have twenty-five miles left before the tank is empty by the time I arrive at my destination.
I get out of the car, feeling marginally better. I’m back at my old stomping grounds, just a few miles away from the high school I attended. This is a safe place for me. I know Frankie and his family can reach me no matter where I am, but for a moment, I allow myself to think that I’ve put it all behind me.
“Sofia!” my mom shouts. She comes out to meet me in the driveway, her hair still in curlers.
“Mom!” I say with relief, throwing my arms around her.
“Sofia?” my dad says from the doorway. He’s wearing his bathrobe and has slippers on his feet.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask, unable to stop myself from smiling. “It’s past noon, and you look like you’re just waking up.”
Dad steps out onto the porch to help me with my bag. “We had a long night, and we’re taking the day off.”
“What did you do?” I wonder, following them both inside.
“There was a gala at the art museum,” Dad says.
“You crazy kids,” I tease.
“It’s so good to see you,” Mom says, “How have you been? Why didn’t you call?”
“I turned my phone off,” I answer.
They exchange a look which I pretend to ignore. I want this visit to seem as normal as possible. I know I have to tell them everything, but I’m not ready to do that yet. My mom leads me to the kitchen, where she starts making coffee. I sit down at the island, exhausted already.
“You look horrible,” Mom observes.
“Thanks,” I say with a frown.
