Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Her face falls and she winces a bit. When she speaks, she looks pained. “You have a lot that people can take that doesn’t involve money.”
“Right, then. A chastity belt should be first on my list of new items to buy?” I ask teasingly, which earns me a giggle and a wink.
“She’s funny. My little Amish friend has a sense of humor.”
I tried to tell her I wasn’t Amish, but it didn’t work. When she found out I actually know how to churn butter, there was no turning back.
I watch her walk away, whistling a little tune, until she’s swallowed up in the crowds of people walking awfully briskly for this early in the morning.
A part of me wishes she didn’t leave.
A part of me is glad she did.
I want to prove to myself that I don’t need people to make me feel safe and secure. I want to prove that I can handle myself and make a way for myself, and earn so much money that when I go back to get Starla, we can do anything we want. I can hire a lawyer or—whatever it is I need to hire so I can bring my sister to freedom, too.
But not today. No, today I need sleep and food, in that order.
Quinn talked so much on the bus, and I had so many different things to think about, I barely slept a wink. When I closed my eyes, my mind whirred like an overheated engine. I’d been so nervous about leaving the night before, I barely slept then either. My eyes feel as heavy as trash can lids and strangely gritty, like someone’s run sandpaper over them. I trip as I walk in a random direction. I have no idea where I’m going. I shake myself a little so I wake up.
I’m used to being without food. Withholding food was one of my parents’ favorite punishments when I was a child. You can control a lot by managing someone’s appetite. I learned to lean into hunger and not fear it, a skill that’s come in very handy.
I have a problem, though. Where does one sleep when one has no money?
It’s chilly up here in early April, much colder than it was back at home.
And I don’t know much about the way people do things.
I do know that some people sleep in hotels, but they cost money and I have none.
Maybe I could barter?
Some people go to shelters, but even if I could find one, taking refuge in a shelter scares me, because I fear that if Seth ever comes looking for me, that’s one of the first places he’d go.
I stare at the slip of paper in the palm of my hand that I haven’t put away yet.
I could call Quinn and ask for help, but I don’t want to. It matters to me that I find my own way.
I don’t care, then. I’ll find a place that’s wind-free and relatively warm so I can close my eyes for a few moments, just enough to get my bearings. But what I wouldn’t give for a bed right about now.
The old me would’ve offered a prayer, asking for assistance and aid, but…I can’t do that now. Not when I know whoever’s up there is angry with me for leaving the fellowship and likely hates me for turning my back on my family.
No, I’m well and truly alone. And as liberating as that sounds, it’s the loneliest place I’ve ever been.
A door opens, and I’m hit with the warm, delicious, comforting fragrance of freshly baked bread. I’d know the smell anywhere.
My mouth waters. My belly aches. The warm air caresses my skin, and I feel myself walking closer to where it originates.
Two men stand in a doorway, talking in hushed voices. I hide in the shadows so they don’t see me.
These men look nothing like the men I grew up with. Tall and handsome, dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, they look like they could be brothers with their matching black hair and scruffy beards. They’re big and strong, I can tell even from here. Most of the men in the fellowship are light-skinned and fair, clean-shaven and… delicate. These men are not.
They turn toward me, so close now that I’m afraid they might see me.
I flatten myself against the wall and watch. I’m used to becoming invisible.
I could ask them for some of their bread, but that could arouse suspicion. Maybe they’d want to know who I am or where I’m from.
No. I shake my head, even though no one can see me. These men look scary. Friendly enough with each other but scary, nonetheless.
I have to find another way.
I turn and walk away, my belly aching, when I hear one of them speak to the other.
“You here for the day?”