Page 17 of Say You're Mine

I wait, every muscle coiled tight, ready to spring. The moment the security guard turns his back, distracted by the flurry of medical activity, I make my move.

The world narrows to a series of fragmented, adrenaline-sharpened moments. The cool metal of the key in my hand. The soft click of the lock disengaging. The rush of cool air as I slip out the window, muscles straining as I lower myself to the ground.

And then I'm running, my bare feet pounding against the dew-damp grass. The fence looms before me, a final obstacle between captivity and freedom. I scale it with desperate strength, ignoring the bite of metal against my palms.

As I drop to the other side, the reality of what I've done hits me like a freight train. I'm out. I'm free.

But I'm not safe. Not yet.

I force my aching legs to keep moving, pushing deeper into the wooded area surrounding the facility. The night air is crisp against my skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. It's intoxicating after months of recycled air and antiseptic.

I don't know how long I run, driven by pure instinct and the burning need to put as much distance between myself and that place as possible. But eventually, my body betrays me. My lungs scream for air, my muscles trembling with exertion.

I collapse against the trunk of a massive oak, my chest heaving as I gulp in oxygen. For a moment, I allow myself to feel the full weight of what I've done. The enormity of the task still ahead of me.

But then I think of Cara. Of our baby. And I know that no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles still lie in my path, I'll face them all. I'll move heaven and earth to get back to her.

As the first hints of dawn begin to lighten the eastern sky, I push myself to my feet. I'm exhausted, filthy, dressed only in the thin pajamas provided by the facility. But I'm free. And I'm one step closer to Cara.

I take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill my lungs. Then I start walking, each step taking me further from my past and closer to my future.

"I'm coming, Cara," I whisper, the words a promise and a prayer. "Wait for me, baby. I'm coming home."

The world stretches out before me, vast and unknown. But for the first time in months, I feel a surge of hope. Because no matter what lies ahead, no matter what challenges I must face, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

Nothing will keep me from Cara. Nothing will stop me from claiming what's mine.

Let them try to stand in my way. Let Elaine, let Faulkner, let the whole fucking world try to keep us apart.

They have no idea what I'm capable of. What I'll do to get back to the woman I love.

I am coming, Cara. And heaven help anyone who tries to stop me.

As I make my way through the dense underbrush, my mind races with plans and contingencies. I need clothes, money, a way to contact Cara without alerting my mother or her cronies.

The rising sun paints the sky in shades of pink and gold, a beauty I haven't witnessed in far too long. But I can't afford to stop and admire it. Every second I'm out in the open is a risk.

I stick to the shadows, avoiding main roads and open areas. My bare feet are cut and bruised from the rough terrain, but I barely feel the pain. It's nothing compared to the ache in my chest, the desperate need to see Cara, to hold her in my arms again.

As I crest a small hill, I spot a house in the distance. It's modest, set back from the road, with a pickup truck parked in the driveway. Perfect.

I approach cautiously, every sense on high alert. The house seems quiet, no signs of movement inside. Probably the owners are still asleep, or maybe they've already left for work.

Either way, it's my best chance at getting what I need.

I circle around to the back, relief flooding through me when I spot a clothesline laden with freshly washed garments. I grab a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, pulling them on quickly. They're a bit large, but it's better than the hospital pajamas.

Next, I turn my attention to the truck. It's older, probably not equipped with an alarm system. I say a silent prayer of thanks to my misspent youth as I jimmy the lock, the skill coming back to me as if it were yesterday.

The engine rumbles to life, and for a moment I'm frozen, half expecting lights to flick on in the house, for someone to come running out. But there's nothing. Just the quiet of the early morning, broken only by the purr of the engine.

I pull out of the driveway, my heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and fear. I'm really doing this. I'm really free.

As I merge onto the highway, heading towards the city - towards Cara - I allow myself a moment to breathe. To feel the full weight of my newfound freedom.

But with that freedom comes a crushing realization. I have no idea where Cara is, no way to contact her without potentially exposing myself. For all I know, my mother could have her under surveillance, waiting for me to make exactly this kind of move.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. What if I'm walking into a trap? What if, in my desperation to get back to Cara, I'm actually putting her in danger?

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