Page 31 of Thorn

Juliette drank a cup of coffee and popped a pain pill. She’d already paid the check. Looking out the window, she felt relief that the sun was fading. Nightfall would soon give her another layer of safety. Her next moves weren’t apparent. Juliette had much preferred it when she had a list of items to accomplish, she was empowered with each checkmark on her mental list. But now she only had two things left – change her clothes and get to Paris. Well three, stay out of the clutches of the Russian men. Okay, four, try to figure out what was happening to her.

The waiter swung by her table, depositing a white paper bag with her to-go order of dinner then spun to the four-top of women who began placing their orders.

Juliette picked up the bag and moved to the ladies’ room.

There, she braided her hair, and tucked the bottom underneath to hide its length. She topped this with a wide black headband, hoping to camouflage the color of her hair a bit. Digging into her backpack, Juliette tugged out the newly-purchased pair of ripped jeans and T-shirt, some socks, and a pair of Converses. She was trying to match the look of the girl in the electronics store. A teen from a middle-class household. She’d even bought a used textbook from the secondhand book store next to the pharmacy.

She used the acetone to remove her nail polish then cut her nails short. Her sapphire and diamond earrings went into her wallet along with her rings. After scrubbing her face free of makeup, Juliette searched the mirror. She didn’t know if it would be enough. It depended on the training of the men following her, and if they had support.

Her last addition was a large zippered black hoody. Juliette figured it could help her disappear once it grew darker.

Rolling her dirty clothes up tightly, she stashed them back in the back pack with her boots. In went the text book. In went the dinner bag and water bottle. She put a couple hundred euro in her back pocket. The rest of her money stack, her wallet, old cell phone, and passport she stowed in a small purse that she clipped around her waist and hid with the baggy clothing. If she lost these items... Well, she’d be lost.

Zipped into the hoody, Juliette hung the school-sized backpack off one shoulder and exited into the narrow hallway, where a line of females stood looking perturbed at her lengthy hoarding of the bathroom. Juliette avoided their eyes.

Shadowing the kitchen boy as he carried the trash out the back door to the alley, Juliette yanked the hoody up over her head before he could turn around and focus on her. As she sauntered away, on what she hoped looked like a teenager’s lope, she could feel his gaze on her back. Would he remember her?

Out on the street.

Now for Paris.

The train, according to the website, left at 22h – 10:00 p.m. She thought it would be stupid to wait that long. Since it was the next train out, the men would assume she’d be on it. And if they caught her on the train itself, she’d be trapped with no chance of escape.

There were no buses available. She didn’t have a license to rent a car. She was at a loss for how to move forward.

Even walking down the street was a problem for Juliette. She was swaying and staggering like a drunk as she caught her balance. Though, thingshadimproved a bit since she’d changed her high-heeled boots for the tennis shoes.

Juliette had brought the boots, purchased on a whim, as a kind of symbol of her wish to be okay. To be the kind of person who could wear heels and look fashionable. And this morning, she’d pulled them and pranced around her hotel room to see how she’d do.

Surprisingly, she seemed to do okay despite the fever that warmed her face and the headache that pounded steadily at her temple. She’d decided she’d keep them on to look chic, thinking her style would help her make a good impression, should good impressions be required.

But as the odd experiences mounted, as her anxiety climbed, so did her symptoms.

The headache and vertigo were making her head swim.

Juliette headed back to the pharmacy to buy a pair of crutches. There were pros and cons to every single decision she was making. Each choice felt like it could have life or death implications. When she’d gone in to the store earlier to buy her toiletries, she’d considered getting a walker like the one she’d used prior to getting Toby. But talk about a blazing sign, “Ding! Ding! Ding! Here she is.” So she’d rejected it. Juliette had thought about getting a cane, maybe two. But walkers and canes were the things that older people used. If a teenager had them − and Juliette dearly hoped she looked that part − then that teen would be memorable.

While she ate, Juliette had decided the crutches were her best option. They’d help with stability, and they might be helpful in other ways, too. In America, if someone seemed enfeebled by an injury, kind strangers reached out to help. Juliette wasn’t sure that would be the case here in France. She couldn’t remember the character of the French people from when she lived here as a little girl – or anything else about France for that matter.

Crutches could also be used as a weapon. That was a dilemma. They might help her. But they might also be used against her.

She was going to chance it. She didn’t really have a choice.

In the pharmacy, a woman rang up the purchase without looking at her, accepted Juliette’s cash with an air of boredom, and handed the crutches over with a receipt.

Juliette took a moment to adjust the crutch height, put her backpack over both shoulders, and hopped her way out of the store, hood up, and wondering where she should go next.

She took out her phone. The girl in the tech store had made sure all of her purchases were user-ready. It was nice of her. Juliette was dexterous when it came to technology, but her mind was on other things, obviously.

She thought any hotel or hostel would be found quickly and easily by any bad guy, since she’d have to present not only a credit card but her passport as she registered.

Juliette typed “films” into the search bar on the browser. Movie theaters were cool and dark. Juliette could hide in there. She could buy tickets for movies that would take her all the way until they closed. Then maybe find aboite de nuitclose by.After all, it was a Saturday, and the club scene should be in full swing. It would be easy to hide there in the darkness until morning. But the idea of trying to sleep in the corner of a nightclub with its dance floor strobing and the music vibrating low sound waves through the room almost made Juliette vomit.

She tapped the walk icon to bring up a path and turned up the volume before sticking her phone back in her hoody pocket to free up her hands for the crutches. Following the instructions, Juliette made her way toward the movie theater, hoping she could find a film that was low-testosterone and would be as quiet as possible.

Shecatchunkedthe crutches forward and then walked up to align herself with them before shecatchunkedthem out again. The crutches gave her a reason to move slowly. And they did help quite a bit with stability.

Three blocks then a left turn brought her into a busy square populated with small clusters of friends.

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