“Of course,” she says, her Southern drawl coming across clear even in her minimal response.
She names a price, and I count out the appropriate amount, giving away nearly a fifth of my cash in that single transaction.
My meager life savings isn’t going to get me very far.
But hopefully, it will get me far enough, and after that, I can get a job to provide for my baby.
My hand falls protectively to my stomach, and a flash of anxiety lances through me as I wonder if my desperate escape has done anything that might endanger the tiny little being.
It’s an odd feeling, to be willing to do anything to protect my unborn child—and at the same time, know that I’m risking both our lives to give my baby a chance at a different life, a better life than I had.
One free of the violence and horror that has been my constant companion.
“Here, y’are, darlin’,” she says, sliding my ticket across the counter. “Train leaves in an hour. It’s best to be on board fifteen minutes before departure.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, dragging the ticket to the edge of the countertop to collect it. Then I tuck it and my money safely back in my bag.
Forty-five minutes. That will give me enough time to freshen up in the bathroom—and hopefully, they’ll have a hand dryer that might improve the soggy state of my clothes.
The train station is nearly empty at this time of night, a few stragglers wandering the floor, several homeless people setting up shop in the dark corners.
My shoes squeak across the polished floor, making me cringe as they call unnecessary attention to my location.
With a sigh of relief, I step into the women’s bathroom to find it completely empty.
My first glimpse in the mirror tells me exactly why I’ve been catching glances all evening.
The light coat of mascara I put on this morning has formed two dark trails down my cheeks.
My hair is mussed, the damp blond locks wavy in a natural, almost beachy way.
But several twigs and leaves have managed to hitch a ride, making me look like I’ve been sleeping on the ground for the last few nights.
My shirt clings damply to my body, emphasizing my nipples that stand out, even through the fabric of my bra, announcing the chill that’s slowly settled into my bones.
I’m a wreck.
With a huff, I turn on the warm water and gratefully lean over the basin to wash the sticky tears and the lake water from my face.
I would love nothing more than to climb up onto the counter and use the sink as my bathtub.
But there’s no chance it would fit all of me—and I’m confident anyone who walked in to see that would be traumatized.
I splash and scrub my skin, taking my time as the water slowly thaws my fingers and nose. Then, finally, I blindly turn the faucet off and reach for a paper towel.
My heart jumps into my throat as I wipe my face and dry my eyes—only to find someone watching me in the mirror’s reflection.
I gasp, whirling to face the lanky young man, whose lips curve into a cold sneer.
“W-what are you doing in here?” I demand. “This is the ladies’ room.”
He glances casually around before letting his gaze slide lazily back to me. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Get out!” I scream, my heart hammering as my survival instincts kick into gear. I should have locked the door behind me—or barricaded it somehow. I can’t believe I was so careless.
“Calm down. Christ, lady. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” His eyes flick down to my hips, as if to see if my panties are, in fact, the reason for my overreaction. “I just thought I’d let you know I’ll be relieving you of your backpack.”
My heart rattles to a stop in my hollow chest as I stare at the small black leather bag he holds up—the bag holding my money, my train ticket, and every last shred of personal belongings to my name.
