Page 48 of Neverland

Taking a seat next to a middle-aged woman wearing a housekeeping uniform, I inhaled deeply, feeling just how tight my muscles were. Here I was running away from a life I’d been forced to live for eight years and with the one handbag. It contained the contents of my entire life. A sad thought but I couldn’t remember a time where I had much more than I did now. I supposed the bright side was, I was on the path to freedom. I hadn’t wanted to do it this way. I wanted Vice to see me through the journey of getting me as far away as possible. But they had to take into account if any of Dominic’s men saw me with a detective their whole investigation would be blown.

A warm, soft hand slid over mine and instead of it startling me, I found its comfort. “Why does such a pretty girl like you look so scared?” the housekeeper asked in a thick accent. She reminded me so much of Mrs. Sanchez.

“I… um… just don’t want the monsters of the past following me into the future.”

She smiled, and I got a sense of both wisdom and empathy. “Only you will determine whether they can come back into your life.”

I looked away, feeling the tears well. “That’s the problem. I don’t think they ever truly left me.

~~~

Red letters spelling Hide Street ran across the digital board, and I stood to make my way to the front. As it was, Camilla, the housekeeper, had already gotten off two stops prior, and I held her gift to me in my hand.

“To keep you safe from the monsters you speak of,” she’d said while curling the necklace onto my palm. “Saint Nicolas, the saint for protection.”

I’d known her for all of one minute, yet she saw deep within my soul.

Leaving the bus, I looked up and down the busy station platform and consulted the second ticket. Platform C would take me to Arizona and further away from Dominic. The countdown clock suspended from the high ceiling told me the Greyhound’s expected arrival. I had ten minutes to burn. Ten minutes of being vulnerable. Transport centers were surely places Dominic and his men would look first given I had no vehicle. Finding an alcove that would block views from all directions, I nestled in it and pulled my legs to my chest, hugging them tight.

“Almost there. Almost there. Almost there,” I said, repeating the mantra but it did little to stop the anxious butterflies. I felt the need to sink further into the depths of the alcove with each man who walked past. They ranged in appearance. Some smartly dressed wearing suit jackets, hands in pockets, and laptop bags hooked around their necks. Others dressed casually in jeans and sweaters. But my paranoia had them all looking the same. Sinister and predatory, like most of the men Dominic hired. Their narrowed eyes studied me, and I could feel their suspicion and scorn.

“Get a grip, Lucy. They’re not him,” I chided myself. Ten minutes passed agonizingly slow but when the Greyhound finally pulled up, I was first to hand over my ticket.

“No luggage?” the driver asked, eyeing my sparse belongings.

“No, just this,” I replied jumping on the bus and heading straight for the back. Closing my eyes, I sent a silent prayer to whoever could be listening. When the bus rumbled into action and pulled away from the curb, my heart began a dull thud. Where I should be overjoyed with the journey thus far, I knew every second that passed meant a possibility of being caught. Dominic Salvatore wasn’t stupid, and ensured he had eyes and ears everywhere. If it was easy to escape his grasp, I would have done it eight years ago. Only when I arrived in Arizona could I even contemplate relaxing.

With the bus a quarter full, it was quiet enough for me to gather my thoughts. Closing the red curtain to avoid unwanted attention, I secured the necklace Camilla had given me around my neck. I didn’t so much believe in God or his Saints, but what I did believe in, I knew to be true. Romeo. I needed to feel his presence. As I ran my finger along the star’s edge, I smiled. Before I’d reached the front door this morning, having acted like it was just another morning getting ready for the club in front of the cameras, I ran back to the bedroom wardrobe and pulled the biggest glow-in-the-dark star off the ceiling.

The bus, which had been traveling well, came to a sudden stop causing everyone to slide forward in their seats. The star hit the seat in front and fell from my grasp.

“Shit!” I cursed, unable to see where it went. Sinking to my knees, I maneuvered awkwardly to run my hand along the floor. “Where are you?” Curious murmurs reached my ears from others on the bus, but I was preoccupied. Only when I touched the tip of the star and had it safely in my grasp, did I twist back up into my seat.

I wished I hadn’t.

Murmurs turned to hysteria, curious passengers standing to see out the front window. A frightened mother, five aisles ahead, picked up her little girl and moved quickly to the back.

“What’s happening?” I asked as she sat opposite me. When my question went ignored, I swallowed my fear and moved into the aisle into a sea of murmurs.

“What are they doing?”

“Who are these assholes?”

“Why us?”

“What do they want?”

The passengers who’d kept mostly to themselves were now firing off questions none of them would be able to answer.

“Driver!” a middle-aged woman yelled, her husband trying to keep her calm. “Do something.” He wasn’t about to do anything. Fear had gripped him and remained unresponsive.

I closed my eyes, touching the pendant around my neck which was supposed to keep me safe. “Please don’t let it be. Don’t let be.” A single tear rolled down my cheek, the little girl behind me sobbing into her mother’s shoulder. I made my way slowly to the front, gripping each seat for balance, knees weak with fear. I pushed past those blocking my way and when I saw what had their attention, the notion of escaping had been just that. An idea. It would never have worked. I stopped next to the driver, only a pane of glass separating me from them. An SUV with no plates sat parked in the middle of a lane that should be smooth flowing. Five formidable men, armed with rifles, awaited me. Wearing all black, they donned ski masks which covered half their face. Their narrowed, menacing stares were unwavering and were almost as frightening as their fingers already on the trigger. They watched my every breath, my chest rising and falling heavily as I struggled for air. Suddenly, the chain around my neck felt like it was strangling me.

The man in the front, who looked to be Anton’s shape and height, stepped forward, a finger pointed straight at me. He held the position showing no fear that people in the streets were watching on, filming with their phones.

“You know them?” the driver asked without moving his lips.

The man still pointing took a slow step forward, raising his rifle in line with my chest, causing those behind me to scream.

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