The police. But what could they do this time that they hadn’t done before?
It was meant to be over.
I was meant to be safe.
I already knew what they would say, what my father would say.
I needed to move up my security.
Do everything I had been doing for two years already.
Nothing worked.
He would never stop coming for me.
As long as I stayed in the city, he would find me, and the next time, the blood on the floor would be mine.
My only option was to run.
Run, and never look back.
1
Gypsy
“Oh, God, please no.”My words came out a muttered hiss as the engine that had been running fine for months started to splutter. The whole van lurched forward, jutting me from my seat. I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel and prayed. “Come on, baby, don't do this.”
Another cough from the engine, and my eyes closed on their own.
This couldn't be happening to me, not in the middle of nowhere. Hell, I hadn't even seen another car pass me in over forty minutes. If my pride and joy decided to break down there and then, I was going to be well and truly stranded.
“Come on, just a few more miles. You can do it.” I knew how ridiculous I sounded talking to an inanimate object, but it wasn't like I had anyone else to talk to. Unless you counted Woofy, and he was asleep, as usual.
That's all it would take, a few more miles. Twenty tops. And then I would be at the town I planned on calling home. It wasn't very far at all, but it might as well have been a million miles at that time of day. With the sun setting already, there was no way I could walk that far in the dark, all alone, with not even a streetlight to help me find my way. Knowing my luck, I would fall in a ditch and drown, or worse.
I would be found.
Being found in the middle of nowhere alone would be bad.
My eyes snapped open. I’d have no protection at all. At least in a town, even in a town where no one knew me, there would be people. And people offered protection.
Silence suddenly filled the air, deafening me. Swearing loudly, I slammed my hands down on the steering wheel, and pain ricocheted up my arms.
My van, my lovingly restored, nineteen sixty-five VW camper van, was a piece of shit. It rolled to a stop, forcing me to gaze around me.
“Fuck, fuck, fucking, fucking, fuck.” I slammed my hands against the leather-bound wheel again in quick succession.
I really was in the ass crack of nowhere.
Which had seemed like a great idea when I had planned the move to the small town less than twenty miles away, but right then? At that moment I was stranded, and the emptiness seemed to push in too close. Claustrophobia out in the open, was that even a thing?
With one last muttered curse, I swung open the door and slipped from the vehicle, the setting sun blinding me for a second. “Piece of shit.” Angrily, I kicked at the wheel. It didn’t make me feel better. If anything, the pain that spiralled up my leg just made me feel worse.
What in the hell was I meant to do?
Tears pricked my eyes.
It wasn’t how it was meant to go. When I had made the decision to move again, I had vowed to myself that I wouldn’t run anymore. That the tiny backwater town would be the last place I rested my head. Hell, if I couldn't make it work there, then I had no idea what I was going to do.
