The police won’t protect me. They’ll cage me.
And if they come back? What if next time there’s a knife? What if this wasn’t the first visit?
I curl forward, rocking slightly, the way I used to when I was little and the dark felt too big. I don’t want to die here. I don’t want Ella to find me cold on the floor, my own face haunting the news.
And what if it’s not me next time? What if they come for Ella?
Ella still sleeps with a light on. Still believes I can protect her.If they take me, what happens to that belief?
I don’t want to be a headline.
That’s when it settles—heavy and final.
I have to run.
Ella is still asleep when I brush a strand of hair off her cheek. My chest aches so badly I have to clench my jaw to keep it together.
She’s safe. That’s all that matters.
And I’ll do anything—anything—to keep it that way.
By sunrise, we’re in the car, the city waking up around us. Ella chatters excitedly beside me, oblivious to the way my hands grip the steering wheel too tightly, my knuckles white.
I just hope it stays that way.
I just hope I can outrun the next message—before it makes good on the promise written in red.
At the airport, I watch her check in, clutching her ticket, and bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. She turns back to me, beaming.
“I still can’t believe this,” she says. “A full ride to Langport. You’re going to visit, right?”
I force a smile. “Of course.”
She frowns at me. “Violet, are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
I shake my head, reaching for her hand. “I’m fine, just—just going to miss you, that’s all.”
Ella’s expression softens. “I’ll be back for the holidays. This isn’t goodbye forever.”
But it is. She doesn’t know that. She can’t. If I told her the truth, she wouldn’t leave. She’d stay. And then she’d die.
So I let her go, smiling like I’m not already breaking.
The final boarding call sounds, and she throws her arms around me. “I love you,” she whispers.
I hold on just a little too long. “I love you too.”
Then she’s gone.
I watch until she disappears down the gateway. My vision blurs, but I refuse to let the tears fall here. Not yet. I turn on my heel and push through the terminal, each step heavier than the last.
The cold air hits me as I step outside, and that’s when the first tear slips free. Then another. But I keep moving. I have to. I will survive. Because Ella is safe, and that’s the only thing that matters.
Now I need to get home, gather my go bag and hit the road. My mind starts to race wondering where to run to and how to stay hidden and survive.
I make it three steps before I slam into a wall of muscle. A firm grip steadies me before I can stumble, and then I hear it—a slow, amused chuckle.
“Running already, Kitten?”
