“It’s okay. They’re not following us,” the driver says with a shaky voice.
“You ladies okay?” Mr. Fritz asks.
I fall back against the seat and adjust Rona in my arms as she shifts in her sleep.
Not by a longshot.
The driver makes a series of turns through town while I watch out the back window. It doesn’t look like anyone is following us. She pulls into a motel. We thank Mr. Fritz and call him another Uber to get back home. No need for this driver to be seen heading back into the neighborhood.
“Good luck and be safe,” he says, hugging us.
The driver doesn’t charge us, saying it’s the least she can do.
I go in alone and rent a room, in case Michael’s men start asking around for two women and a little girl.
When we finally get safely inside the room, and Rona is tucked under the covers with her bear, I get in the shower and let the tears flow.
It’s another sleepless night, even though I’m exhausted. My eyes are burning, my muscles aching, but I just can’t let my guard down and sleep. After the fiftieth time peering out the window and scanning the parking lot, my stomach rumbles and burns. I swallow down the nausea. I need to get something in my stomach to soak up the acid. Glancing back at the sleeping forms in the bed, I grab some cash and the hotel key and check the area once more before I step outside.
It’s a quiet night. Not a soul in sight. I noticed a few vending machines outside the door where I checked in. Some crackers would do. Bonus for peanut butter.
I hurry down the sidewalk and around the building, on high alert. Above the sound of traffic in the distance, there’s calls from night critters and a car door slamming.
Once I get to the hallway, I peer around the corner. It’s empty and dark. Just the glow of the vending machines and thezap zapfrom a bug light. I hurry forward and feed a few dollars into a vending machine, glancing over the selection, then choose the crackers and a bag of mixed nuts. The clunk of the items falling is loud in the night. I check behind me before leaning down to pluck them from the machine, then move over to feed the other machine for a bottled water.
The whir of the machine and then the clunk of the bottle falling…
My scalp catches fire as I’m yanked against a body by my ponytail. A hand slams over my mouth before I can scream. Then there’s hot breath in my ear.
“Do not make a fucking sound,” the deep voice growls. “You’re going to take me to the room. Try anything and I will kill the bitch who helped you escape. Do you understand?”
I nod, my eyes darting around for something to fight him off. There’s no way I’m leading him back to Rona. I took a six-week self-defense course when I first got to Tampa, hopefully that now pays off.
He still has a good grip on my ponytail as he turns me around to go back toward the rooms. It’s now or never. Remembering my training, I reach back and grab his hand with both of mine and twirl my body around quickly, causing his shoulder and elbow joint to twist painfully.
With a grunt, he bends over to try to relieve the pressure, and I kick him as hard as I can in the nose. He goes down with a roar and a spray of blood.
But as I try to run, he recovers and grabs my ankle.
I fall on my back and kick at him violently. He blocks my kicks and tightens his grip on my ankle. He’s got such a tight grip, it feels like he’s crushing bones.
With a growl, blood pouring down his face, he jerks me toward him and punches me in the face. I turn but not in time. The blow stuns me for a moment. He makes the mistake of thinking I’m down for good and pushes himself to his feet, wiping at the blood on his face with his shirt.
While his shirt is covering his face, I half-crawl half-scramble the few feet to the potted plant by the vending machines. Pushing back to my feet, I lift it in the air and crash it down on his head. He falls like a sack of potatoes. I don’t check to see if he’s getting up, I just run.
Back in the room, I scoop Rona off the bed as I call Celia’s name. “We have to go!”
She immediately sits up, her eyes widening at my injured face. “What has happened?”
I shake my head. No time to explain. “We have to gonow.”
Luckily, we didn’t unpack. I adjust Rona in my arms, and she mumbles in her sleep while Celia slips into her shoes and grabs the suitcases.
I check out the window. “I don’t know if he was alone.” It’s going to be risky to run, but more risky to be a sitting target. “There’s a WaWa Gas Station down the street that’s open. Stay behind me.”
My heart pounding, I yank open the door and we run. I can hear Celia breathing hard behind me as she struggles to keep up. My face is now pulsing with the beat of my heart, andI can barely see out of my right eye. I can’t slow down though. I lead us behind a strip mall where there’s no lights and large metal dumpsters to hide behind if we need to. Then I grip Rona’s head tight against my shoulder and peer around the edge of the building.
The WaWa is next door. There are a few cars on the road at this time and two parked in the gas station. I wait a few minutes, watching for any of Michael’s men before leading us through the grassy area, then the parking lot and into the building. We hurry to the back and straight into the bathroom. I flip the lock behind me and sag against the sink, trying to pull air into my constricted lungs. They burn and resist my efforts.
