Page 25 of Coercion

Once he’s left, I eat quicker, all but scoffing the food down. I’m so hungry I could cry because I didn’t eat a thing yesterday. Only, I didn’t want him to see that. I didn’t want him to think I behave like that. Like I don’t have any manners.

Once I’m done, I get up, my mind already fixing on a plan.

I don’t know how long Preston will be gone but if I’m going to get away, then this is my chance. I can’t believe what Gunnar said, I can’t trust that he’ll let me go once this is all over.

I have to take the chance now, when everyone thinks I’ve given in and accepted all of this.

I sneak into Preston’s rooms, yanking out a t-shirt and shorts from amongst his clothes. It’s not ideal. I have to roll the shorts up over my hips and the t-shirt hangs down like a dress. I look ridiculous but I don’t care. This isn’t about fashion, this is about my life, about claiming it back, proving that I’m not that broken thing they made of me.

His shoes are far too big and, with a sad realisation, I decide to go barefoot. It could be worse I tell myself as I make my way back downstairs.

Technically, Preston said I could explore the house, so none of the staff seem to be watching me and yet I know, if I even try to walk out the front door, I’ll be yanked back. Instead, I make my way to the garden, pretending that what I need most is fresh air, as if mere oxygen could fix all my woes.

I make a show of smelling the roses, of running my hands through the freezing water of the fountain. I want them to think I’m as pliant as possible but all the while my eyes are scouting out the walls, seeing where would be the best place to make my escape and when I spot it, it’s hard not let out a squeal.

It takes a full ten minutes to meander over to it, to make it look like I’m just enjoying being in the sunshine but, once I know I’m hidden from view by the massive camellia bush, I don’t waste a second, scaling the walls, scraping my hands as I clamber up. I drag my body over, earning another scrap across my belly and then I flop onto the other side.

As I land in a heap, I take a moment to collect myself, before I’m sprinting away, down the street, darting as quickly as I caninto another street and to where I hope there might be a crowd, or a subway, or anything that means I can get out of view.

As I make my way, I can feel people staring. I must look a sight, barefoot, clearly dressed in men’s clothes. I need to cover myself, I need to hide myself. I duck into a side street, find a massive rubbish bin and start hauling out whatever I can. There are a pair of sneakers, old, a size too small but I ram my feet into them all the same. And there’s an anorak too. It’s stained, it stinks but I wrap it around, realising that I look like a tramp, but I don’t care.

For the first time I feel inconspicuous. I feel invisible.

As soon as I’m done, I head back out, walking fast, ignoring the blisters as they rapidly spring up along my heels. It’ll take more than a few cuts to stop me now because this is the first real taste of freedom I’ve had in forever.

I freeze as I realise that.

A man collides with me and then curses like I’m the one at fault.

I ignore him because right now nothing can dampen my mood.

I’ve done it. I’m free.

A giggle escapes me and it’s hard to contain. I haven’t laughed in so long. I haven’t felt real joy in so long.

I slump back into the brick wall of a building. Despite the food I ate, I feel exhausted, and I’m half tempted to take a nap, after all, no one bats an eye at a sleeping homeless person, do they? But, just as I contemplate it, the hair on the back of my neck pricks up. I can feel goosebumps all along my skin like my body knows something I don’t.

I look around trying to figure out why I sense danger and my eyes connect with a man I know is Mafia.

I gulp, taking a step backwards, then another. With every step I take he does the same. Within seconds I’m spinning on my heels rushing through the crowds, frantically trying to get away.

Only, there’s two of them now. Two men hot on my heels.

I let out a cry. The blisters are tearing into my feet, the coat I found is no longer hiding me but is flapping in the wind, slowing me down. I turn a corner, then another. They’re right behind me, hunting me down like a dog.

I don’t know if it’s Levi’s men, if it’s Preston’s or even Nico’s, but whoever they are, I know they’re going to drag me back.

As I make a last minute duck to the right, I realise I’m at a dead end. A wall of dirty bricks blocks the path ahead. My stomach drops as I turn to face them.

I’m trapped. Cornered.

I grab a random piece of broken pallet wood, raising it up like a bat.

The man on the right tilts his head like he’s trying to assess if I’ll actually do anything and then the pair of them separate, they part, and Levi walks between them.

My eyes widen. My fear multiples. My legs seem to collapse under me and I whimper as it feels like the entire world implodes.

I’m sick of always being a failure.

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