Page 8 of Cruel Hearts

Quinn doesn’t have a car, and we walk through the industrial park to reach the bus stop. I’m calmer now that she’s with me, but I feel far from safe. She doesn’t say anything, just shuffles quietly beside me, the gravel covering our shoes with dust. There’s nothing to say, though I wish she would talk to me, distract me, keep me from thinking about the stupid, stupid thing I’m about to do.

“Let’s take the train,” she says, breaking the silence.

I nod. The train will be fastest, and the crowds underground will hide us better than the people riding the city buses. We ride one only to the nearest train stop. Filled to capacity, the passengers help us blend in, but I still feel exposed. Perspiration caused by the heat but filled with fear mists my skin.

The air is sticky, and wearing my dress, the backs of my legs peel off the plastic covering the seat when I stand.

It’s cooler down below, under the city, and I pause for a moment to suck in a deep breath of the musty air. We reach the turnstiles and my steps falter, but without missing a beat, Quinn feeds the meter to let us by.

I’ve been locked up way too long. My brain turned to mush, but that’s no excuse. If I don’t start thinking clearly, I’ll be dead before I can reach Zane’s building. There’s no way Ash will letme go without a fight. He’s been out of the country, but he knows I’m gone. The only questions are how long he’ll let me think I got away with it and what he’ll do to drag me back to my prison.

The crowd is thick tonight and I almost lose Quinn in the crush. I look for her in alarm, but she’s right behind me and she grips my hand when she sees the panic on my face.

An electricity buzzes around the subway, a calm before the storm. Or maybe I’m paranoid—I haven’t ridden the train in five years. Maybe the passengers have always felt like this. The anticipation. The needing to be somewhere as quickly as possible. Then I remember it’s a Thursday evening. People are in the mood to party, to get a head start on their weekends.

I loosen my muscles, hoping to relax.

“We need to get on the B train,” Quinn says, tugging on my arm.

We weave our way farther down and wait. The crowd pushes at us from all sides, and the gritty, salty smell of sweat hangs in the air. It nauseates me, and the greasy fast food Quinn brought me sits in a lump in my stomach.

A loud rumbling fills the tunnel and the light blinds us as a train streaks by in the opposite direction we need.

“Two more,” Quinn murmurs into my ear. “It’s okay.”

The trains are between stops, and I wish we would have timed it better. The crowd offers us some protection, but I still feel vulnerable.

I inch my way to the edge of the platform. I want to be the first one on the train.

Quinn rests her chin on my shoulder. She senses my urgency, and in her way, reminds me to calm down.

I pat the purse resting at my hip, the strap snug between my breasts. Nothing is in it but the flash drive. I inch another half step closer, not that it will do any good. The train rushing at us isn’t the one we need and it will fly by to the next stop.

The single light in the center of the engine casts a bright white glow over the narrow tunnel.

The crowd presses closer, and I shift on my feet. I’m not the only one impatient to board. I just want to get this over with, and I steel myself for the force of the train as it’s about to speed by.

Quinn wraps her arm around my stomach.

Someone shoves me from the side, and irritated, I glare in that direction. I can’t get any closer to the edge of the platform.

Dark eyes narrow.

I swallow.

His intent is clear, but in that split second there’s nothing I can do.

Quinn screams, her fingers scrabbling with the fabric of my dress. It’s not enough to keep me from falling, and I slam onto the tracks.

My ribs burst into flames. Funny how that’s the first thing I think of, not the fact that I’m going to die.

I turn my head and watch the train bear down on me.

Shrieking fills my ears. Urgent shouts from people standing on the platform and the train’s brakes squealing and sparking as the engineer attempts in vain to avoid running over me. He won’t be able to stop in time, and I picture myself cut into bloody ribbons. I wonder if it will hurt.

I hide my face in the crook of my arm, and my life literally flashes before my eyes. How many shitty foster homes I endured, the five torturous years I spent under Ash’s thumb. With my chin up and my back straight, I lived through it all.

I can’t curl up and wait for the train to kill me.

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