 
### Against All Odds  
A Subconscious Account from Valerie Anne Thompson

By

Ashley Lowe

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Ashley Lowe on Smashwords

Against All Odds

Copyright © 2012 by Ashley Lowe

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for any purpose, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.

Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book in its entirety is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination or are used completely fictitiously. Any similarity to authentic events, locales or persons—living or dead—is wholly unintentional. This is a promise to you, the reader, from me, the author.

Young Adult Reading Material  
LGBT Reading Material

*****

This work of fiction began as short story for a few friends wishing they had more material on LGBT romance to read. They asked. I gave.

Thank you to my wonderful friends for reading and reviewing this piece prior to publishing it. I appreciate you and the time you spent helping me. You know who you are.

I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

*****

### AGAINST ALL ODDS  
A SUBCONSCIOUS ACCOUNT FROM VALERIE ANNE THOMPSON

*****

### CHAPTER 1

What is a Simple Life?

I grew up thinking that life would be so wondrous. I could be whatever I wanted to be. Well, that's according to my parents. And, of course, that plan had to fit into whatever they wanted to me to be. I hate feeling like I have to make my parents happy.

Planning would make everything fall into place smoothly. I had everything scheduled from a very early age. I had my best friend, Ali, always at my side. We have always been inseparable. We were going to go to college together. Ali and I were sure we'd end up getting jobs doing about the same thing. We'd always been fascinated by movies and wanted to work behind the scenes. We'd both live near each other-- hopefully somewhere with a beach-- so that we could live the BFF life.

If there's one integral piece of information that I've learned in my twenty-five years on this planet-- things don't always turn out the way you want them to. In fact, most of the time, you never even come close. Why couldn't I have figured that out a lot sooner?

I'm trying to calm myself down in the back of this horrible, dimly lit limo. I can't stop fidgeting with the silver tulle under my white gown. The gown was so white it reminded me of the blinding effect snow was capable of having on my eyes. How poetic? I'm wearing an angelic dress for my special journey to Hell.

I couldn't stop thinking that I'd rather be at home. My favorite jeans and a comfy t-shirt were waiting for me. I could almost hear them calling my name. I could almost feel the comfy flannel wrapped around my body.

Instead, I was going to be attending my own funeral in this silk and lace disaster. "This is the worst day of my life," I think to myself. This day was never a fitted piece in the puzzle of my grand master plan. With the way the laws were heading, a marriage would never be in my future.

Let me clarify one of my previous thoughts. I realize this may be slightly confusing. By funeral I actually mean that it's my very own perfect, princess wedding. You know, the one that every girl spends her nights dreaming about. The one that girls make believe about during their entire childhood. No expense has been spared for this day. My parents have gone all out, emptying three savings accounts for the dress alone. I don't even want to consider what his family has put into the affair. A typical, traditional wedding had no place in my life or in my dreams.

I know what you're thinking. It sounds weird, right? Most women are more than happy to be getting married. They're ecstatic beyond all reasonable, and sane, belief. Those women even go to great lengths to become Bride-zillas. They make their bridesmaids insane with their every whim. And, of course it had to be the way they wanted it. Well, I am an exception in this particular design. I don't even know where I'm getting married. Hell, I have no clue what anything even looks like beyond this limo and the dress I'm wearing.

Women generally look forward to the honeymoon and the life they want to lead after that. Girls stage pretend weddings from a young age. Teenagers doodle Mrs. Last-Name-Goes-Here all over notebooks in middle and high school classes. There's only one problem. I have never been like any of them. In fact, those were the girls that despised me growing up. Why? I'm different.

My groom-to-be, Tom, is a wonderful person. He really is. He's very handsome and extremely smart, which are all pretty nice characteristics for a man to be granted. He's always been sweet, but kind of pushy with what he wants. He's not too patient at all. He's got a good head on his shoulders and he's very successful.

Let me just break it down for the entire world to hear. Tom is just not what I want. I'm not even interested in him in the slightest way. Let's just say that Tom is not my type. But, if I were to tell him or my parents that, I'd be found dead. That's if I was ever even found at all. Isn't that a fun thought to be thinking about when I'm supposed to be looking forward to the happiest day of my life? It's just wonderful being me.

### CHAPTER 2

Tom and I Cross Paths... Unfortunately.

Tom and I met during my summer interning as an assistant to the director of a film he was starring in. I was getting the director a cup of coffee when he bumped into me, spilling the latte I had worked so hard on perfecting. Without apologizing, he said, "I'm Tom."

He was very matter of fact, as if he really needed to introduce himself to me. I didn't let him know that I already knew exactly who he was. He was the guy that all the girls would talk about. Who could miss the marvelous celebrity? He's been in every mainstream film since I could remember.

Tom sort of stalked me for a few weeks after that. Okay, not sort of. He full on haunted me wherever I was. It was kind of cute at first, but I still wasn't interested. I had a certain someone else on my schedule. Plus, I'm not exactly what he, or anyone else thought I was.

My life has always been a big act of show and don't ever tell. People like me are not as widely accepted as we should be. Everyone has their secrets, right? My secrets could have me detached from my family completely. My parents are not very forgiving or tolerant of people that choose not to hold the same values that they do. Case in point: me.

I came home from a long, hard work day—of mainly fetching lattes and rounding up actors and actresses for the director-- to find him sitting on the overstuffed couch with my parents and Ali. That was the couch where I had my first intimate moment with the one I truly loved. That was the couch that we had watched our favorite movies on. That was my couch. That was my home. And, Tom had invaded my space for the last time. I was planning on telling him off the moment I saw his face. But, my father interrupted my big moment.

Dad popped up faster than I have ever seen him move and said, "There you are, sweetheart. I'm so happy for you. It's about time you settled your life down and found a real man."

I stopped dead in my shoes. I'm fuming. "Umm... What do you mean 'found a man'?" Up to this point in my life, I've never even had a boyfriend. Some kid—I can't remember his name—in first grade kissed me on the cheek once. That didn't turn out well for him. And, I'd hardly consider that a boyfriend since I beat the snot out of his face. He never talked to me again, by the way. That was also my first trip to the principal's office. My parents were so pissed that I wasn't even allowed to go to my forced ballet classes. I still feel like I won that battle in a round-a-bout way.

"Tom here told us the news! When's the big day?" Keep in mind, this is the happiest I have ever seen my father. He didn't cheer me on at my softball games. He didn't approve of me being in liberal clubs in high school. He wasn't even excited that I brought home a four point four grade point average in my AP courses. Mom had to force him to go to my ballet recitals. He's not the interested-in-your-life type of dad. Well, until now.

"What big day?" I asked in an awkwardly high-pitched squeal, eyebrows arching as high as my forehead would allow. Could anyone tell I was seething on the inside? Was it me or was there actual steam billowing from my ears? My heart pounded. That had to be visible in the vein in my forehead that made its grand appearance every time I got mad. Right?

Tom and I had had very little interaction outside of the coffee incident. In fact, I tried to avoid him all together. His creeper tendencies had started to annoy me after the first week. Sending flowers and balloons to my home was uncalled for. Following me around set was even offensive. How'd he ever figure out where I lived anyway? What news could he possibly have to share with my family and Ali?

Why was Ali here for Tom's big announcement? The thought just crossed my mind in that moment. Tom hated Ali. In fact, Ali hated Tom just as much, if not more. They had never even spent more than ten minutes in the same room before. I'm pretty sure it's because her and I are so close. From my observations, we're the only two women at the set that completely ignore the fact that Tom even existed. The tension in the air was as thick as a heavy rain in the dog days of summer. Add some mosquitoes and it was just as annoying.

"Tom said you two will be getting married, dear," Mom said rather bluntly, pouring drinks for everyone in the room. Trusty old Mom. She is a heavy drinker. All she does around the house is drink and watch the soap operas. Every now and then she'll have her book club over for tea and discussions. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen those ladies in months. I don't think she ever cooked, either. She's always been on the liquid-lunch diet. She tended to leave everything for the nanny to do up until the day she left. I had been wondering why Dad lost so much weight. Makes sense now.

Mom never wanted me to work in the first place. According to her archaic philosophies, women graduated high school, got married to a man and had that man's children. There was never even a college option. Then, those same women stayed home forever to take care of those kids, with the help of a nanny. End of story. No questions asked.

Mom has never believed in an educated, working woman. Needless to say, she's not thrilled with the life I had chosen lead. I'd hate to demolish what little positive opinion she had of me by telling her the truth. Hell, she was livid the day I announced I'd been accepted into the university. I couldn't imagine the hell I'd pay if she ever found out the truth. You should have been there for the "I quit ballet" talk.

To be honest, I've always loathed my mother and her special ways. I wished that I could just rebel against her. Unfortunately, if my actions were to hurt my mother they would also hurt my father. I would never want to do that to him on purpose. I've always wanted my dad to be proud of me. I just never seemed to be good enough for him. So, I would always just stick with whatever made them happy. And, what made Mom happy, made Dad happy. That way he wouldn't have to deal with her shit.

I couldn't tell them the truth about myself and I knew it. I couldn't tell them what I really wanted from my life. I tried going down that road before, but it never worked in my favor. I couldn't tell them about the person that I really loved. I'm lucky I survived my mother after I told her that I would be attending courses in a college.

There was no escaping Tom's forcible entry into my life at this point. As everyone stood to hug me with congratulatory praises—except for my mom—I tragically collapsed into their embraces with my eyes closed and fists clenched tight. I had to figure out a way out of this.

### CHAPTER 3

Why Would Anyone Purposefully Walk Straight Into Their Nightmare?

The door of the limo opens and the sunlight hits my eyes. I squint and look out to see if anyone is around. Thankfully, the whole walkway is absolutely desolate. Not a single person is around to see my misery. My face feels tight with too much makeup. I can feel my entire face caked. There's no way my skin is getting any air. I can't breathe wearing this stupid corset. I look ridiculously fluffy from the waist down.

Is this how women really like to look for their wedding? It feels terrible.

Inside the church I have my own room waiting for me. Casually making my way to the door, a horde of women I don't recognize rush forward on me. I can't make out a single word they say because they're all talking at the same time. Something about my hair isn't right. One of the ladies pokes and prods at my head to fix it. My dress apparently isn't fluffy enough. Another woman proceeds to further fluff me up. Another lady talks about the color of my eyes and how it doesn't work well with the makeup.

This blob of estrogen forces me into the tiny vanity chair in the antique room. Here comes more makeup. I want to scream. I just can't win. I knew I should have stayed in the damned limo.

It should not even come close to amazing me so far into my life but the cattiness and hatefulness of grown-ass women makes me laugh on the inside. "Give me a fucking break, ladies!" I think to myself. Oh, how I wish I had the audacity to say it out loud. They fuss and bicker at each other about what works and what doesn't. Who cares? I don't even want to be here anyway. Let me look like crap. Maybe Tom will let me go.

Finally, there's a face I recognize from the corner of my eyes. Ali is the most naturally beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on even from peripheral view. She smiles and holds her arms out as she runs towards me in her shimmering, light blue gown.

"So, I guess the colors they're going with are light blue and white?" I ask her. She's been more part of this event than I have.

"I don't know. I just know that I'm wearing this _fabulous_ dress," she says and then sticks out her rosy tongue. I have to admit, it is pretty silly looking on her. We're not exactly dressy girls.

I have to admit, though. Ali's bridesmaid dress is perfect. I just never thought I'd see the day where Ali would even look at a dress. She's hates them. Thousands of tiny crystal-like sequins glisten in the sunlight coming through the barred window just behind the vanity. Her blonde tresses—held in place by similar looking crystal pins—are curled and tiered, outlining her face and neck. I can honestly say that Ali is the only girl I have ever been envious of. Her stunning features make mine look dull and drab. I'm so ordinary compared to her. My face is easily forgettable. Her gemstone eyes make my dingy, mud-colored eyes look like trash in comparison.

"You don't look happy," Ali says to me. Her eyes barely glisten in the lighting coming from above the vanity mirror. Those eyes can make any room dazzle, though.

"You know that I'm not happy with this, Ali," I say as I look down at my hands folding over themselves anxiously in my lap. She knows that I'm not happy. She knows why I'm not happy, too. This shouldn't be a surprise for anyone involved, other than Tom and his family. "This isn't how I planned things would be."

"Val, I know. It's frustrating to see you this way. It makes me so sad. I feel like there's nothing I can do to help. I just want everything to be okay." Ali closes her eyes and puts her head in her hands. Ali has always been easy to read. She shows her exasperation by clutching her face in her palms.

Even though she's wearing a dress, she doesn't bother to cross her legs or her ankles like the rest of the women in the room. It is the little things that I love about her, really. Her knees are spread wide open as her elbows rest on them. She knows there's no need to be ladylike around me. I let a small grin streak across my bright red mouth.

"I don't mean to make you sad. You know that I don't love him, though. My parents..." Ali nods her head in response to my statement without letting me finish my thought. It's the unfortunate truth. She goes back to fussing over my hair and makeup and we play this game where we try to make each other laugh. We both know it's not working, but we fake it for each other anyway. I fake it for her.

"Your lips are _way_ to red for your skin tone," she says, mimicking the voice of one of the older ladies that were in the room.

The rest of the bitter, old women come back in and flush me into the hallway that leads me down the aisle to the minister. Is he a minister? I don't know what to call him. Is it even a man? It'd have to be right? I'm so new to this stuff it makes me sick.

I stumble a little, tripping over my over-flowing gown. I regain my balance and stare ahead at the massive and ornate mahogany door that is the portal to my future. I hear the organ begin to play a melody that sounds all too frightening and familiar. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack. I haven't eaten in days and I still feel like I could vomit. Oh, how joyful.

I look around to see if there are any doors or open windows I can run to. At the end of the hallway to my left is a window. There's no promise of it being unlocked, though. To my right, there's a different door. Again, there's no promise of it being open, but it's worth a shot. Something has to give. There's no way in Hell I could make it back out the front door where I originally came from.

Ali is just a few steps in front of me waiting for the door to open so she can begin the procession. Her foot taps in the silver high heels the ladies picked out for all to wear. The spike of the heel looks like it may be made of diamonds or crystal. My shoes are similar, but why did I get stuck with the highest heels of them all? I think I got hosed on this decision. I'd rather be barefoot.

That's another thing I never expected her to wear. Ali is known for only wearing her pink and black Converse shoes-- the ones with no laces. Every now and then she wears some black flats or flip flops. Seeing her in heels is just so weird.

The rest of the ancient women are all lined up behind me. My mom is holding the train of my wedding gown. She admires the intricate lace and patterns of crystal beads. I can see her smoothing the fabric beneath her fingers, loving every square inch of the wedding dress she picked out. She probably secretly wants it for herself. That's completely okay with me, too. She can have it. I hate the dress with the passion of a thousand fiery suns at this very moment.

And, just then, in that moment, I get a great idea.

"Mom, can you spread the lace out on the floor? I want to see it again before I walk down the aisle," I ask her as casually as I can manage. I don't want to make a scene just yet. She lowers herself to the floor, softly patting and spreading out the train. I leisurely turn to my right as if I'm going to look down at it. "No sudden movements, Val," I say to myself under my breath.

"What's that dear?" my mother asks, looking at me with slanted eyes.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about how pretty the pattern is." Yeah, right. Don't get me wrong, the pattern is beautiful. It looks like vines and leaves and petals and flowers woven into a web of fabric. But, it's really not my style. I definitely don't do silk or lace, let alone the color white.

Under the dress I carefully lower myself out of the too-high heels, instantly making myself about three inches shorter. Grabbing as much of the dress as I can in two fists, I rush and make a break towards the closed door down the hallway. Running as fast as this stupid, fluffy dress will allow, I slam face-first into the door. Thankfully I couldn't run too fast.

I'm not sure if, or for how long, I was unconscious. The next thing I know I'm shouting various obscenities when I look up to see the ladies gathering around me. There's a little bit of sparkle around them in my peripheral vision. I can see the stars that everyone always talks about. My forehead throbbed with pain. The damned door was locked. There will be no escaping this day. Just lovely. It's just my luck, too.

"I have to use the restroom," I tell them firmly in order to sway them from believing I was trying to run off. I'm not sure how I'm keeping up this confident, cool act. Everyone that knows me knows that I am not the gutsy one of the group. My childhood goldfish had more guts than I ever have. Don't even get me started on how clumsy I am.

My mother shot me a glare that meant I was dead if I tried anything funny like that again. She's on to me. She knows. That woman scares the shit out of me. I think she may kick puppies and eat kittens in her spare time.

I'm telling you, she has some of the most sinister looking, deep brown eyes. I don't think I've ever actually been able to distinguish her pupils from her irises. Mom's eyes are so dark they look like they're completely black. Her eyes almost look like they are the same shade of tiny onyx marbles. She's always terrified me with those looks. I'm honestly not sure what my dad has ever seen in her.

When I returned to my place in line from my faux-bathroom break, the organ was still playing and the doors just began to crack open. After scrutinizing my face and slapping powder on my cheeks and forehead, everyone rushes to their places behind me all over again. It's time to begin my descent into my own personal hell.

### CHAPTER 4

The Worst Day and the Best Day All in One -- Is That Even Possible?

The colossal, ornament of a door opens slowly into the main area of St. Mary's. I have never seen the inside of a church before. This room seems too big to be real. The cathedral opens up to a high vaulted ceiling. Painted glass windows surround the entirety of the church from front to back. The windows look as though they have angels in various poses on them. They're absolutely beautiful. The pews are the same mahogany the door is made from and not any less decorative. They send an off limits vibe. The walls are an off-white that seems to have been stained with time. Everything looks antique. Everything seems incredibly untouchable. I should not be here. I'm just waiting for the hall to burst into flames.

Ali looks back at me with a fake smile and I see a tear run down her left cheek. Before turning back around to complete her stroll, she looks helplessly at the crimson velvet carpeting and stops smiling completely. "She's given up," I say to myself in the abyss that is my current state of mind. I hate when she looks like that. Deep down inside, all I want is to be next to her to tell her that everything will be okay and that we can still move forward with our original plans and ideas. But, I can't because I feel like it's never going to be okay.

Walking down the aisle to the minister-- I'm honestly not sure what to call this man, and he is, in fact, a man-- and my future husband is like walking to the gallows and the executioner. My life is over. There's no question about it now.

I let myself fall into a daydream about when Ali and I were younger and in high school. There was this one day that I remember most fondly. It was after school and we sat in the meadow out beyond the football field. The grass gave us enough cover to hide from the rest of the world. Nobody would ever be able to see us there. This was one of the only spots where we could be ourselves.

We'd bring notebooks, pens and cameras that printed photos on the spot. Ali and I would write stories about our future selves. We would get caught up writing poetry to and about each other. I still treasured the scrapbooks we made each other for our birthdays. When we went to college together, that all stopped, but we still had other means of sticking together for our best friend time. College meant that we didn't need to sneak around to be together.

The only other place I could think of as wonderful would have been the beach off Lake Michigan. Hanging around the dunes all night was just as fantastic as the meadow by the school. The only people that went out there late at night were the ones that wanted to get away. They were our people, even though we never spoke to them. They were just like us.

The smell of the sea air is my most valued recollection of that time. Any time I've ever had the opportunity to smell it, I close my eyes and I'm immediately brought back to those days. Now, it just makes me sick with aching and longing for those times to come back to us.

I'm not a kid anymore. There will be no sneaking out with Ali to sit on the beach dunes, talking until the sun peeps up at us over the horizon. There will be no sneaking Ali into my room at night when my parents are asleep or away. There will be no more Ali and I alone together at any point in time. My life, as I know it, is truthfully over.

I snap out of my reminiscing and back into my real life issues. This is horrible. What is it that I used to love writing in my notebooks? "Reality is a lovely place, but I would never want to live there," I think to myself. How fitting that phrase is for today?

Tom stands there smiling his big, tacky smile. His shit-eating grin makes me shudder in disgust. His teeth are the whitest teeth I've ever seen. They are absolutely unreal. He has the fakest smile I've ever witnessed on any human being. I guess it helps that he's pretty well known. People clamor over him to get his teeth that clean and picture-perfect for movies and photographs. The funny thing is that his face is nowhere near as perfect. It's a phenomenon what special effects and makeup can do. It is such a waste of time and money.

My very own personal procession comes to a stop long before I do. Each woman stands in their designated spaces to the left side of the smaller, more arched shelter on the stage. I have to keep moving forward to my position about ten feet in front of us. I trip slightly on the tulle beneath the dress. I catch myself from falling and continue on. I'm so freaking clumsy.

The lights go dim and the music halts sharply. The silence is overbearing. I can actually hear people breathing in the pews. The only bright lights in the entire church are the ones focused on us, and the single spotlight concentrated on the crucifix just behind the man about to sentence me to a life of marital misery.

This may be blasphemous to think, but Jesus looks like he's crying and mourning for my soul just as much as his own. For a moment, I feel bad for him. Then I remember where I am and what's about to take place in my own life. Now, I feel bad for myself and I begin to pray that this all ends as quickly as it started. What's funny is that I never pray for anything. If there is a God, maybe he'll grant me this one wish.

I sit and wait for my prayer to be answered. But, nothing ever happens. No sign is shown. I'm screwed.

We both look at the priest and he solemnly begins his speech in an eerily robotic voice. You know the one. It's all too excruciating to listen to or repeat.

I tune him and everything around me out as if nothing else in the world exists. I pretend that none of this is even happening and put Ali's face where Tom's is in my mind's eye. This magnificent image gets me through until Tom interrupts my thought process with a gruff cough. I guess it's my turn to repeat those dreadful words. We echo after him and he orders the man to kiss the bride, totally and utterly sealing my final fate as Tomas Espinoza's wife.

Tom lifts the white, lacy veil from in front of my face. His smile has faded into a forced, narrow gaze. He deliberately leans in with his eyes confidently closed. His smug façade inches closer, ready to slap his smooth, glossy lips on mine for the first time. Yes, he's about to kiss me for the first time ever. How on God's green Earth could we be getting married if we've never even smooched? That's not the first absurd red flag in this series of events.

I shoot a quick glance at Ali. My movement catches her eyes. As if she's reading my mind, she throws her bouquet towards the crowd of onlookers and races towards me, snagging my hand in hers.

It's all as if it is in slow motion. Time seems to freeze while I watch her come at me. We yank each other back down the aisle towards the russet door, losing both pairs of our shoes on the way out. I hated those things, anyway. I am much more comfortable with my feet touching the ground beneath me.

People try to corral us away from the exit. They attempt to block our paths. People try to snatch us by our gowns, but we let our dresses tear nearly clean off our bodies in order to ensure that we liberate ourselves from this mess. We flash by each pew of people as we run for our lives. I can feel my mother's stare drawn down on the back of my neck. I've never felt so petrified in all of my life. It takes all of the energy I can muster to endure and carry on.

We push through the giant front doors of St. Mary's Catholic Church. Thankfully the limo is right where it was when I left it. I trip and fall to my knees just after stepping from the last step of the stairs that lead away from the church door. Ali yanks me up and we dive head first into the parked limo. Ali cries to the driver, "Paul, go! We have to go!" The doors lock as the driver, Paul, looks back at us in confusion. This is the first time my life has ever fallen into such chaos.

Once the car starts progressing down the street we sit back and attempt to relax, watching the people filing out of the ever-shrinking church behind us. Former friends and family run after us as we break away from the curb. The ladies desert their position in the mad pack first. The men chase us for another block and slowly start dropping out of the race. Eventually, they all stop running after us. Looking back again, I see that there are a lot of phones to ears and thumbs twitching and sending texts. I immediately switch my phone to the off position.

Ali and I look at each other. She grips my gloved hand and we bust out with the hardest laughter our bodies could possibly create. We fall over each other's laps as tears of joy and celebration stream down our makeup-packed faces. This is the worst day and the best day of my entire life, all solidly rolled into one. Maybe my life's not over after all. Is that even possible?

### CHAPTER 5

Shall We Head Out?

The next morning, I can't help but think to myself, "Was this all a dream?" I can't believe I managed to abscond from my own wedding. Am I still alive or was I murdered and guided up to some glorious version of Valerie's Personal Heaven? Either way, I'm not complaining. I'd usually slip on my Vibram FiverFingers, but they're somewhere back at my parents' house. Instead, I peel off the stockings from yesterday's nightmare and head out the door with my key to get a quick run in before Ali wakes up.

The morning's dew was still fresh on the ground beneath my feet. I love the feeling of the soft, wet grass between my toes as I run through the morning mist. Barefoot running has been my private therapist for the past five years or so. I feel like the great Mother Earth understands me better than I understand myself most of the time. It's scary, honestly.

The air is nice, but a little thick this morning. It's a tad foggy out, which adds to the excitement of running through the morning haze. I never really know what's around the next corner as I course through the rounds of today's jog. The light wind has a slightly flowery scent. I can't seem to place what the smell is exactly, but it reminds me of the fragrance of flipping through the pages of an old, worn book.

Coming back into the hotel room, I try to be as quiet as possible. I see that Ali is still sleeping the early morning away and her body is splayed across the bed. She is still stagnant, lying in the same position as when I left this morning. I sit down on the edge of the bed closest to her head and run my fingers through her tangled hair.

My own stirring about the room must have woken up Ali. She sits up on her lean elbows under the covers and looks at me with this perky, cheerful smile. Only she can light up a room with the slightest twitch of her lips. That's always amused me. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my soul every time she beams.

Ali's long, champagne-like hair is a tangled mess. Her makeup is still caked but smudged all around her striking face. Even though she doesn't believe me when I tell her, I still think she's more beautiful when she wakes up than anyone else I have ever met. Not that I've ever waken up next to anyone else, but the thought must count for something.

What's the best part about all of this? Yesterday wasn't a dream at all. I'm resting next to the most bewitching woman in the universe. I'm the luckiest lady on the face of the planet.

"Good morning," Ali says to me as she settles into a sitting position and yawns, stretching her arms high above her head. "Well, I think we need to get organized and plan out where we go from here. I don't really care to stick around too much longer."

"First thing's first. I need to get rid of this phone." I throw my iPhone on the bed. I turned it on this morning to a massive influx of missed calls and text messages from people that were once my friends or family. Most of the calls were defamatory and cursed me to Hell where I must have surely come from. Oh, well. Mom, Dad and Tom were not on that list of missed calls, thankfully. "Hey, since when are you the planner? Isn't that normally my job?"

"Ha ha, very funny. Oh, and great idea. Definitely lose the phone. And, let's hunt down some breakfast first. I'm starving."

"Not for me, thanks. I'm not all that hungry," I say as I gently lay my hands on my distressed stomach. It's the truth. I haven't been truly hungry in weeks. Everything has been weighing down on my mind and the stress eventually killed my appetite. Now there's this whole new pressure to deal with. What have I done? I feel sick with nerves.

"Listen, Val, don't worry about them. We'll head south and they'll never be able to find us. We'll do whatever it takes. We're both better off this way and you know it," Ali says seemingly frustrated with me. I'm always the wimp. I'm the first person to get frazzled over any minor setback in plans. I know this was all sudden and it's difficult for her to get a handle on, too. Deep down, though, I know she's entirely dead on. She's always right and sometimes that kills me.

We get up out of the warm and comforting bed. The hotel cleaning ladies left our invoice under the door. I bend down and lift it up off the burgundy floor and throw it in the trash. We gather our things and get dressed in the clothes that Paul, the limo driver, had brought us the night before when he dropped us off. I had stored a pre-packed gym bag with my wallet, a few pairs of jeans, a couple t-shirts and plenty of underwear in the front of the limousine. You know, just in case.

I have a habit of planning for any possible situation I can imagine, even some that are not quite in the stars. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't planning on running away during the wedding. I had actually been planning my evasion once we ended up in Peru for the honeymoon. If I couldn't escape, I certainly would have died in the forest trying. Anything would have been better attempting to live a life where I no longer existed. Now, I just wish I was smart enough to take the plane tickets from Tom prior to leaving. Ali and I would have had it made!

Fortunately, I have been able to save up quite a bit of cash rather discreetly. I don't think anyone but the bank knows about my checking account. I'll tell Ali about it all eventually. The internship was a salaried summer job before my final year at the university. I had been living with my parents and they pretty much paid for everything I needed at the house. I was able to pass the job off as a traditional, unpaid internship, so everything went to the bank save for a couple dollars here and there. If my math is correct, and it always is, I have enough to get us to Florida, Nevada or Calgary before we really need to consider earning an income.

### CHAPTER 6

Coming Up With the Diner Plan

At the diner down a few blocks from the hotel, Ali and I grab coffee, omelets and bacon for breakfast. I'm only eating to make sure she eats at this point. I know she's hungry otherwise she wouldn't have brought it up this morning when we woke up in the hotel room. I feel bad that she has to play any part in this mess. At the same time, I am feeling guilty because I couldn't do it without her.

For the most part, we are very quiet. Neither of us says too much to each other. We're too consumed by our thoughts to speak. For the longest time, we just sit there. I play a spoon through the eggs on my plate and sip at my coffee. It's getting cold. Ali puts down her fork, takes my hand softly in hers from across the table and gazes right through my eyes.

"I have an idea."

"Okay! That's what I like to hear. Come on, out with it," I put down my fork and wipe my mouth with a napkin, ready to listen to anything that could come out of her mouth. Any idea has to be better than no idea. I'm too fuzzy to properly think about any solution to the situation we have found ourselves in. I am happy to know that she's capable of thinking when I am so obviously not.

"I don't know about you, but I have money saved in a bank account. I don't know how far it will get us, but I think we should get as far away as we can and fast. I'm kind of weary of people like Tom. You know the celebrity-types."

"Oh, we'll be fine. Before too long, they'll forget all about us."

However, I can't help but agree with Ali for the most part. The longer we stay this close to Tom and my family, the more definite my demise is. I know my parents will either come after me or completely disown me. One way or the other, there's no point in staying around if I'm not wanted here. I nod my head and ask, "How do you think we should proceed?"

She pauses to think about the question for a few seconds. "We've always said we would like to take a road trip after college. It doesn't look like either of us will be going back to finish out our senior year any time soon."

"Great point," I say, putting the cold coffee mug up to my face. "But, I can't go back for my car. We won't have any way to get ourselves on the road."

Ali grins mischievously at me, shaking her head and rolling her eyes like she already has a plan put together in her beautiful mind. I'm obviously of little use in this conversation. She's always been good at being bad. I don't thinks she's ever been caught for any wrong deed she's ever committed.

"My car is pulling up now," she says as her brother and his girlfriend pull up in two separate cars in the parking lot right outside of the grimy diner. One is Ali's old, black Ford Focus ZX3. I'm seriously surprised she still has the car. It's only a few hundred years old. Okay, I'm exaggerating. She has had it since she was sixteen, though.

"Do you think we'll really be able to get far? I don't want to take any chances getting caught," I say. I'm always the responsible, motherly figure. I'm also the biggest worry wart I've ever met. Sometimes, I wish I could be more daring and adventurous like Ali. If I had to choose, she'd be my idol. Earlier in our conversation, I wasn't too cautious about avoiding Tom or my parents. Now that Ali is talking up getting away, I feel a little more nervous.

"We'll be fine. Nobody knows what I drive. We always take your car, Ms. BMW." She has a point. Since I bought my BMW-- partly due to Tom's insisting and my dad's credit-- we never had a need to drive her crappy Focus. Err... I mean, that lovely little Ford she loves to drive.

"Perfect. Let's go," I say, gesturing to the door. I stop and pay for our meal at the register before I make my own exit. We didn't really have a waitress, so I didn't bother leaving a tip. Plus, I don't think we'll ever need to worry about anyone spitting in our food here. Chances are we will never be coming back. At least, that's the plan.

Outside in the parking lot, Ali's brother, Mark, and his girlfriend, Amber, were getting out of the vehicles. Ali gave Mark and Amber a long hug, thanking them for their assistance. I have never met Amber before, but she seems nice enough. I grab Mark and hug him, too. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this! I owe you big," I say as I pull away from his embrace.

"Don't worry about it. Anything for my sisters," he says. We all laugh and Ali motions for me to get in the car. We can't waste too much more of our precious time. I do love how Mark has always been the best big brother I've never had. He was our hero growing up. I can't believe I'm admitting this, but we used to wear his clothes and pretend to be his little brothers.

"Thanks, again, Mark!" She screams out the window as we pull out into the street in front of the diner. "I'll call you guys when we get where we're going!"

She sits back and lets out a deep breath. "Where are we going?" I want to ask. I look over at her wavy, blonde hair flowing out around her tanned face. She pushes a golden lock back behind her left ear exposing the small, heart-shaped tattoo on the side of her neck.

Looking over at me with a flirtatious grin she murmurs, "Ready?" Her eyes put me in a brief trance. I can't help but sit there and look at her. She snaps her fingers in front of my face.

"More than you know," I say as I grab her soft hand between the grey cloth seats. "Did you let Mark know where we were heading? I ask.

"No way. I don't even know where we're going for sure. I have my cell if he wants to talk. I told him I'd let him know where we ended up so that they could come visit."

Along the sides of the highway, there are seas of wildflowers growing. There are specks of white here, purple there and yellow littered everywhere in between. The breeze smells a bit like the trees around the neighborhood where we grew up.

"I'm ready," I whisper to myself.

### CHAPTER 7

Emergency Services to the Rescue

I slept in the passenger seat for a few hours and then woke up to Ali singing in the driver's seat as we pulled into a gas station. She has the most beautiful singing voice. I could also be biased, though. "Where are we at?" I ask her, rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes. I look at my reflection in the window and see that my makeup is running down my eyes.

"We're somewhere south of Cincinnati. I'm pretty sure we're getting close to Lexington. We've only been gone for a few hours though," she said like she knew where we were headed to. We had decided, before I fell asleep, that we'd just head south and see where that takes us. She adds, "According to the map on my phone, I-75 takes us all the way to the Gulf of Mexico."

"Florida it is then. It's my turn to drive. Take a break," I say as we both open the car doors to get out and stretch. "Do you want coffee or anything from inside?" I ask as I shrug towards the gas station. "I'm going to get myself some caffeine. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

"French vanilla, please. Could you grab me a bag of chips, too?" She asks, batting her eyelashes at me. She always knows just what to do to make me melt. Ali is a Funyuns fanatic even though I don't think the taste goes well with vanilla coffee.

"Of course," I say. I flash a smirk and a quick heart shape with my fingers across my chest. "I love you," I think to myself. I wish I had the courage to tell her how I really feel. I'm not sure it's much of a secret, though. I don't think it's ever been a secret. She has to know, right?

Back in the car, I set our coffees in the cup holders. A little French vanilla spills out onto the black plastic of the middle console where the emergency break is. Ali grabs her cup and takes a swig. She swallows it quickly and then opens her mouth to say that it's hot, but she doesn't make a sound. She waves her hands around her mouth frantically trying to cool her burning tongue.

And then, her arms drop to her sides and her eyes fly wide open. The coffee spills all over the seat and the floorboards at our feet. The hot coffee scalds my toes and I jump back from her side of the car.

"Fuck!" I yell. I don't mean to yell at her, but the stinging won't go away. After calming myself for a split-second I take a quick breath. "Are you okay?" I ask her. "The coffee is hot. That's kind of why they put the label on the side of the cup."

"Put the car in gear! Put the freaking car in reverse, now!" She screams at me, her eyes gaping straight forward through the windshield.

A black Escalade flies into the gas station straight towards the nose of our car. I put the car into reverse and drive backwards as fast as I can almost hitting the gas pump behind us. I do take out a trashcan, though. I curse under my breath and secretly wish Ali was driving the car.

After a quick donut behind the gas station, I put the Focus in drive and haul ass down the street. The SUV sails after us as I push the limits of the puny car. We wouldn't have this problem in my BMW. Why doesn't this thing have turbo-mode or something?

Ali keeps a look out through the back window, eyes locked on the SUV targeting us. "They're gaining speed. I don't think this piece of shit can outrun that thing," she says with tears streaming down her eyes. "What're we going to do?"

I don't even have a second to think. I have nearly zero time to react. I can't waste any more time. I fly back on I-75 and push towards Lexington. According to the signs, we're only about thirty minutes away. If we can just keep ourselves engulfed in enough traffic, our small car should be able to lose the massive SUV. "I think I have a plan," I tell Ali, trying to calm her down. I'm not too confident about it, though.

"You think you have a plan? There's no time to think!" Ali screams. Her stream of tears has turned into a river and she's sobbing. "We've got to get out of here. Who knows who the hell they are! Get us out of here!"

"Don't worry, Ali. Everything's going to be okay," I lie with a grim smile. I hate lying to her, but I don't have a choice. I'm not sure that everything is ever going to be okay at all. Obviously not buying what I'm trying to sell her with words, she keeps yelling at me.

Just as I finish my sentence, the Escalade collides into the trunk of the car sending Ali and I crashing forward. From the corner of my eye, I see her head whip towards the dashboard. My face slams onto the steering wheel. I can only see the crimson canal washing through my eyes. I hear the crack of my nose before I feel it. The blood gushes heavily from my nose. Ali dangles loose at the restraint of her seat belt. She's nothing but a ragdoll.

I scream for Ali to wake up and try to watch the road at the same time. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt furiously but nothing gives. All I can see is red. The driver of the black SUV steers the monstrous vehicle into the driver's side of our petite car. Everything is moving in slow motion. Our small, dingy-black heap of metal—crushed in on the side and rear end—careens through the guard rail and flips into the ditch between the interstate and the woods around us.

My body is jolted out of the seat and up against the seatbelt that's doing its best to hold me safely in the car. Glass smashes and shatters all around me. I see Ali's body loose and her arms flying around the passenger side. Once the car comes to a stop upside down, I grab Ali's hand to make sure I can still feel her heart beating. There's a pulse but it's weak.

"Hang on, Ali. You have to stay with me," I say knowing she won't be able to hear me. I unbuckle myself from the seat and fall to the roof of the car. I kick out what is left of the window on my side of the hunk of smoking scrap.

Ali's face has blood flowing down from her once flaxen hairline. Her eyes are squeezed shut, but she's slowly coming to. "Ali, we have to get out of here," I whisper quietly, trying to be as silent as possible so that nobody could hear that we are still alive. "Ali, come on. We need to get into the woods!"

Just then, from the direction we crashed from, I hear a car door slam and two men talking amongst themselves. "There's no way anyone could have survived that crash," One says to the other. I can't see who they are from inside the car. They stop at the top of the ditch and continue talking about the wreckage they must see below.

"Ali, they're coming! We have to move to the trees. Now!" I'm no longer whispering at this point.

"I hear voices down there. Come on," the other man says to the guy that was previously talking. I hear their heavy footsteps coming down the side of the ditch. They're approach is faster that I would prefer. There's no chance for us to make our escape into the woods. Ali is still coming back from unconsciousness when the two men show up here at the debris.

"Is anyone in there? We need to get you out of the smoke. Say something."

"I really don't think you heard anything, Randy. There's no way that anyone could have survived this. They tumbled at least three times. Everything's shattered. I can't even tell what kind of car this was," the man says back to the other guys. He looks down into the over-turned car and I catch his eyes through the busted glass.

"Please don't kill us," I say, clenching my eyes closed. I'm hoping that they'll either make it quick for both of us or, at the very least, let Ali go. I have a funny feeling that I'm not going to get off as easy as Ali might.

"Why would we kill you? We saw you crash and just want to help."

Once Randy and Russell, brothers from Lexington, pulled me out of the car, I rushed over to try and get Ali out. There's no way that I'm leaving Ali in there any longer than I have to.

We got Ali out, somewhat safely, and laid her on the grass near the edge of the woods. She points a trembling hand back up the hill to the interstate and starts to moan out some imperceptible words. The man in the black Escalade was standing next to his vehicle on the side of the road. When he noticed that he was spotted, he climbed back into the SUV and sped off down the Interstate. "I have a funny feeling that's not going to be the last of him," I say to nobody in particular.

"Do you guys know him?" Randy asks.

"I have no idea who that guy is. He chased us from a few exits back and rammed us from behind. Then he hit us from the side and we flipped into the ditch," I said to Randy while Russell was calling for emergency services.

The ambulance and police arrive on the scene shortly after Russell hung up his phone. "They're going to want to know everything," Russell says to me, looking at Ali's near lifeless body.

What am I going to tell these people? I'm never going to be able to tell them the truth. My entire life is spiraling down around me and I still have to keep up this game of charades. Does anything ever get easier?

"Ali, you have to stay awake. Stay with me, Ali." I slap her on the cheeks and shake her a little bit by the shoulders. The paramedics run down the hill towards us with a gurney for Ali. "Everything is going to be okay, Ali. You have to wake up." The paramedic and EMT take her body from my arms. The police bring me a blanket and Randy and Russell help me up to the rescue vehicle.

"Thank you, guys," I say unsteadily. My voice cracks and trembles as the words flow from my mouth. I don't even feel like I'm the one talking. I almost feel like I'm watching myself speak to these men from above.

They nod and return to their lives and the road knowing they saved two young women from a car accident. What they don't seem to realize is that they may have just saved us from being murdered.

Who was that guy and what did he want with us, anyway?

### CHAPTER 8

He Knows, Ali. He knows.

In the back of the ambulance, Ali is still out of sorts. The paramedic said that I could ride with her until we get to the hospital. He said there'd be no guarantee that we'd get to stay together while Ali gets fixed up. He cleans up my own face, and then starts to wrestle with Ali, making sure she's as comfortable as she can be. I don't think anything could make her comfortable right now.

The paramedic finished hooking Ali's arm up to the IV and moved to the front of the ambulance to let us have our privacy in the back. He didn't recommend it, but he caved after I explained what happened and that we were together. It was actually the first time I've ever been able to mention to another living human being that Ali and I are together as a couple. Even though, technically we're not. A girl could dream, right?

I reach for Ali's hand but she's slightly faster than I am. I'm terrified I'm going to hurt her just by touching her. She clutches my cold fingers first. "Is he still following us?" she asks me softly, writhing at the pain the slight movement caused.

"I don't think so. I saw him pull away from the side when he saw us looking up at him." At least that was the truth. I hate that I've been lying to Ali so much. I feel just as terrible knowing that I'm going to have to keep the acts up, too.

"So, he knows we're still alive," she says while she tries to scrape away the dried blood from my hand. She doesn't have to explain to me why she said this. I know she's worried that he'll be back. I'm worried about the same thing. This isn't one of those things we can just magically put out of our minds even if we do try to.

"Unfortunately, yes." Ali looks at me with knowing eyes. I don't think either of us really expected for any of this to happen. It wasn't supposed to go this far. We were supposed to get safely away and move on with our lives. We wanted to be invisible to everyone. We wanted to be forgotten. I don't think Tom is going to let any of that happen. If this was his doing, he's made that answer quite apparent.

"Did you see who he was?" Ali asks, looking down at the tubing that protrudes from her vein. Blood trickles down the side of her arm near where the needle went in.

"I saw him, but I don't know who he is." I don't think to mention that he's probably been sent by Tom. I don't want to do any more damage than what has already been done. The less she worries and thinks the better off she'll be. "I'm sorry that this happened, Ali. It's completely my fault. If we would have just stayed..."

"Don't be sorry. We couldn't have stayed and you know it. We're in this together," she cuts me off abruptly. She lets out a cry from the pain in her chest and bends in a half attempted version of the fetal position.

I know she doesn't want to hear what I'm going to say next, but I have to say it anyway. I need to get it off my chest.

"But I never meant for you to get hurt."

"Listen," Ali says sternly as she fails to sit up in the gurney, "I'm fine. We're fine. We're both still alive. All that matters is that I'm here and you're here and we're together. We're alive." She breaks down into a sobbing mess of tears and torn clothing.

"Ali, you're not fine. You're hurt and it's my fault," I say.

I lean over and hug her as gently as I can. The paramedic says it's likely that she sustained a few broken ribs. She'll definitely need stitches to close the wound from when her head hit the dashboard. My nose has already been fixed by the EMT that was with the paramedic. If that hurt as much as it did, I can't image the agony that poor Ali must be going through right now.

This is the worst part, I think. I barely have a scuff on my forehead and a busted nose. I never wanted Ali to get hurt. I'd do anything to take her pain away. All I have to deal with is a broken nose and a couple of scratches on my forehead. She may have a concussion and all kinds of other issues. What if she died there in that car? I should never have gotten her into this mess with me. If I would have just stayed there at the church, Ali would have been safe and completely unharmed.

I'm torn over all of this. If I would have stayed, Ali and I wouldn't be able to be together. I know Tom wouldn't even consider letting me be her friend. Don't get me wrong, he has no clue about how much I love her, but he's obviously the jealous, vindictive type. But, if we would have stayed, she'd be safe and free to live the life she wants. Neither of us would be running. I feel nauseated and confused.

"Ali," I start to say, but she puts her hand up to my mouth so that I can't continue to say anything else. I just wish she would let me get it all out. I should invest in a notebook or something.

"Val, stop. Everything is going to be okay," she says to me. I know how this works though. It's the same thing I always say to her when I don't know how things are going to end up. I try to put a strong face on for her to see. I know that I'm not a very good liar. She can see right through me.

She moves my face close to hers so that she can see my brown eyes look deep into her sky blues. "Everything is going to be okay," she repeats. Just as I go to look down at the floor-- my tell-all sign that I know it's not true-- she lifts my chin and puts her soft, sweet lips to mine.

### CHAPTER 9

Moving Forward With Bumps and Bruises

We're standing around the outside of the hospital when Ali starts looking around frantically. The weather is perfect. The sun shines down on my light skin instantly warming me up to the freedom I've recently created for myself. The lawn is perfectly manicured and the wind smells like the grass may have recently been cut. I love that smell. There's a butterfly floating on the breeze toward the pretty purple flowers near the hospital's entrance. I wonder what kind of flowers those might be.

"Do you see the truck?" Ali asks me, interrupting my thoughts about the weather and surrounding flora.

"What truck?" I ask her as calmly as possible. I know what she's talking about. She's talking about the SUV that tried to kill us the night before. I just don't want to think about it at all. This is me trying to miraculously erase everything from my mind, and hopefully hers.

"The big, black SUV from yesterday!" She punches me hard in the upper arm and then instantly regrets it. She holds her arms to her mangled rib cage. The gauze from the bandages sticks out through the holes in her shirt. Obviously my ploy to sidetrack that conversation didn't work.

"Oh, that one! No. I haven't seen it at all. We need to get out of here before he does show up, though." How many hospitals could there really be in this area? It wouldn't be too difficult for the guy to find us at this particular one if he really wanted to.

I laugh as she retracts from the pain of the punch. I think, "Silly girl, why would you do that to yourself?" That leads me to begin another thought process. "Silly me-- why would I do any of this to either of us?"

"No shit," she says to me as we start walking towards a white taxi that has been waiting for us to pile in. "Can you take us to the bus station?" she asks the cab driver.

The cabby guy smells like he may have not taken a shower in a few days. He looks like he's never taken a shower in his life. His oily, black hair looks matted with grease. He's missing a few hairs on the top of his head. Why do men grow their hair out when the top starts balding? That is a phenomenon I will never fully comprehend. This dude's t-shirt is stained with what I hope is mustard from a hot dog or something. Is he even wearing any shoes? I do not dare to investigate any further.

"No bus station. Train station, okay?" he says loudly in return. I think there's something in his mouth, too. He spits while he talks. That kind of drives me nuts. I want to yell at him and tell him that we're not deaf and to finish chewing before speaking. What ever happened to manners?

"That's perfect," Ali says looking at me with questioning eyes. I think she's waiting for me to say something about the train. I don't think either of us has ever been on a train before. I honestly didn't even know they still had passenger trains in the United States these days. Is it anything like a subway or a monorail? I guess I'll be finding out.

"You seem to know what you're doing. What's the plan?" I ask casually like nothing out of the ordinary has ever happened. We're just two normal girls out for a fun-filled adventure.

"We don't have a car, so I think the only option we have at this point in making our escape is a bus or train. We don't have the time or money to fly anywhere."

"I think we may have the money to fly, if that's an option. I'm not sure how time really plays into it," I say hesitantly. She's looking at me like I may have lost my mind. "I think we may be too close for comfort. We need to get somewhere very quickly. A plane would be the quickest way to get out."

"You don't think that anyone would be looking for us at the airport?" she asks me, her tone is a little sarcastic. She has the tendency to get cranky when she's tired, hungry or in pain. I want to tell her what I really think. I really think that somebody is going to be looking for us no matter where we go. I don't dare say that out loud, though. Sometimes it's just better to keep my big mouth shut.

"Good point. Train it is." I'd rather not fight with her on this. The cabby whisks us away to the train station, blaring music I cannot seem to make my mind comprehend. The bass is so loud I can feel it in my chest. I'll be honest. I've never understood why people actually enjoy this rap music. Are the lyrics even in English?

"Listen, Val," Ali starts. "I know things are tough and I'm sorry for getting snippy. I'm just really frustrated." At least she can be honest about it. Now I don't feel so bad for thinking those things about her being bitchy.

"I know. Everything is okay. We'll make it through this. Remember, we're together. That's all that matters anymore," I say as confidently and smoothly as possible.

She grabs my hand and lays her head on my shoulder. I know she doesn't believe me. How could she after all of this has taken place? I gently kiss the top of her head. "I love you, Ali," I tell her, quietly whispering the words in her ear. I've been dying for the moment where I could say those three words out loud.

She doesn't respond. The silence is toxic to my already stunned mind and drained emotions. I should have known not to have said anything. I should have just let it go. I'm always the one to ruin something good with something so stupid. Why can't I ever seem to keep my freaking mouth sealed? My heart rises into a lump in my throat and my stomach churns in distress.

I collapse in on myself as she snuggles her nose deep into my neck. I knew this was going to be a crazy spree given our sudden run. I feel like I actually thought I knew what I was getting us into. But, this is so much worse than what I originally expected. Everything seems to be falling apart right in front of our eyes. The worst part is that it's all of my own doing. If there is a God in the sky, he or she should consider helping us out right now. We could really use any support.

### CHAPTER 10

The Train Station Platform

The train station is dead. It's a complete ghost town. I must not be the only person on the face of the planet that has forgotten that they exist. I can only see ten people around and six of them seem to be working here. Ali and I join the ranks of passengers-to-be. Nobody stands in the line in front of us.

"How far can we get with this?" Ali asks, handing the attendant six one hundred dollar bills.

The lady behind the register counts the money that was pushed under the window. "Where do you want to go?" she asks as she paints her fingernails a horrid hue of yellow. According to her name tag, her name is Michelle. Michelle sits and speaks like she hates her life. I can probably understand why. This place doesn't seem to get much action.

"We need to get south of here. Or, west. Anywhere really," Ali says. She looks at the map behind the counter and points towards the Sunshine State. "Is there any chance we can get to Florida with this?"

"Sure. City?" Michelle asks, blowing on her freshly enameled thumb nail. Neon yellow? Yes, I want to say that her nails are this terrible neon yellow. I can't even accurately describe it. I would say it would be like putting neon lighting in a banana, but even that sounds prettier than this horrendous color. I wonder if they match her shoes or something.

I can't help but observe everything around me. It's a curse I tell you. No little detail ever goes unnoticed in my mind. Ali always laughs at for it. Most of the time, she'll ask me what I'm thinking just to make me stop.

"Tampa," Ali rushes. "We'd like to leave on the next train out if at all possible. We're kind of in a hurry."

"Fine. The next train out goes all the way to Orlando. There's a few stops, but you'll get there eventually," Michelle says with an air of apathy, looking at Ali with a glare in her eye and an attitude on her tongue.

"What a bitch," I think to myself. Then I regain my own composure to keep Ali from getting herself in trouble. That's the last thing we need right now.

"Yes, ma'am. We'll take those tickets. Thank you," I say trying to get Ali to back off and calm down. She's clenching her fists. This usually means she's ready to go at it. I'm just hoping there will be no extra drama today. We don't need any fights to deal with. I think we have enough on our plates as it is.

"Here ya go. Change," Michelle pushes the tickets, cash and coins at me forcefully. What the hell? If I don't get Ali to move from the stand soon, I might be the one to snap.

"Thanks," I say with a hollow tone, pulling Ali away from the counter and over to the benches to wait for the train. Michelle closes up shop and slams the window shut behind us.

"What're you doing, Val? Did you not hear the way she was talking to me?"

"Ali, listen," I say sympathetically. Rude people really do tick me off, too. "We've had enough drama for a lifetime in the last twenty-four hours. Don't you think we should lay low and keep everything cool?" Here I go, again. I'm playing the voice of reason despite my real feelings about the situation.

"I just can't stand when people act like that. It pisses me off." Ali slaps her knee in disgust. She continues clenching her fists and throwing her shoulders up into her neck. Oh, yeah. She's turning into Ali Bear.

"I know, Ali. People, in general, always piss you off." I can't help but state the obvious. She's never been good with her social graces. Proper social skills have always been her prime area of opportunity. I'm not sure how she's dealt with me for so long.

"Damn straight," she says with a silly smirk on her face, smoothing her hair behind her ears. I love that silly smile. "Val, about what you said in the cab..." she says, trailing off and not finishing what she has to say.

"What about what I said in the car?" I ask like an idiot. This was probably not the best response I could have thought up in the moment. She looks at me and narrows her eyes sharply. She knows that I know what she's talking about. I've never been any good at fooling Ali. I've never been any good at fooling anyone for that matter.

"Never mind," she says. Her voice sounds deflated. She touches my hand with her pinky. I take her hand in mine and we sit there in silence, looking in different directions, waiting for the train to arrive. After a few minutes, she pulls her hand away from mine and hugs her knees to her chest.

"What's happening to us?" I ask myself in my thoughts. She stands up and runs to the women's room behind us. It's almost as if she can read my mind these days. I'm more confused than ever. I love Ali. She's the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. I have already kind of poured my heart out to her. I could have been more thorough, but what else can I do?

After a few seconds go by, I get to my tired feet and follow her path through the same rusty door. Ali is resting her hands on the bathroom sink, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She glances at me and stands straight and tall. "I'm a mess, Val."

"You look great," I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder for comfort.

"No, that's not what I mean. In my head I'm a mess. What were we thinking?" she asks me, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. She removes herself from my touch in a sudden jerk.

"Everything is going to be perfect. Things just suck right now. Trust me, I know. But we'll get through it like we've gotten through everything else before this." I can't be too sure right now, though. I feel like she's drifting away from me. I don't think she wants what we used to have. I miss what we used to have.

"I don't know," Ali says, looking down at the ground, kicking her shoes together. I want to tell her that I don't know how things are going to be, either. I want to tell her it's all going to be okay. I want to say so many things to her. This is not the Ali that I know. This is not the same strong and composed woman I fell in love with. This is the little school girl coming out of her. Unfortunately, I can't help but think that her childish vulnerability is kind of cute.

"The train should be here any minute. Are you coming?" I ask as I walk in the direction of the door, knowing she won't stay behind. There's no way she would leave me after all of this, right? I mean, we've already used the money for the tickets. We just need to get on the damned train.

"Okay. Let's go," she says as she buries her hands deep in her pockets. Her blonde locks fall around her face as she pulls her head up to walk forward. "Orlando, here we come." She puts on a face of false sureness. Her body language is giving all of her secrets up.

As I'm pushing the door open, I see a familiar face walk by. Quietly letting the door fall back in place, I force Ali to the side and into a stall.

### CHAPTER 11

Rolling Down the Tracks

"What the fuck, Val?" Ali yells, shoving me back. "Don't push me around!" I fall onto my knees on the filthy floor. Fantastic. I'm already gross as it is.

"No! I didn't mean to push you. Listen! The guy from the SUV is out there. I just saw him walk by this door. Be quiet," I tell her. I'll be honest. I'm freaking out right now. "I'm going to see what's going on through the slats in the door." Usually, Ali is the brave one of us. She's always been the one to stand up and fight for me. Since the SUV ran us off the road, our roles have been slightly reversed. I have no choice but to toughen up. To be honest, I am halfway enjoying it a little. I get to take care of my damsel in distress.

"Val, be careful," she says as she climbs onto the disgusting toilet. I hear the stall shut and lock behind me as I kneel on the vile floor and put my eyes to the openings between the boards. My hands stick to the grime that's built up over time. I'm pretty sure this bathroom hasn't seen a mop or bleach in a few decades.

"He's out on the platform by the bench. It looks like he has a friend this time," I whisper back to Ali. She's peeping over the stall door at me. Even under stress she's absolutely gorgeous. Her bright blue eyes twinkle in the fluorescent lighting from the bathroom ceiling. Why do I have to be the brave one right now? I can't seem to get my emotions in order.

I break the need to stare back at Ali and listen for more. The man pulls out his phone and dials a number. The person on the other end answers and the man begins to speak, "Hey, Tom." I wish we didn't have to hear the conversation one-sided. I want to know if that's actually Tom and I want to know what he is saying. Then again, I can only imagine how it's going. I think I'd rather stay out of it.

"He's talking to Tom," I silently mouth back to Ali. Ali covers her mouth with her bronzed hand and the tears start rolling. Her face goes pale instantly. It's as if the life has completely drained from her body. Her soul went right down the drain with the water in the toilet. I hate seeing her like this. I just want to hold her. I want to tell her everything is going to be okay.

"Yeah, we're at the train station outside of Lexington. No, it doesn't look like they've been here. Of course I checked the entire station. What? No. We're standing on the platform now," he says nervously to Tom on the other end of the phone, his fingers fiddling with something in his palm. "The train is pulling into the station now."

This guy is trembling. His hands shake and his speech slurs and stutters as he tries to spit out the words. I'd be that terrified of Tom, too, if we were the ones talking right now. I'd probably do my normal and hurl as soon as I opened my mouth. I'm such a freaking wimp when it comes to confrontation. I embarrass myself sometimes.

"Ali," I snap and try to get her attention. "Ali, the train's coming. We're going to have to run for it. We can't afford to miss it."

"Oh, shit," Ali whispers back to me. "What're we going to do?"

"Listen, as soon as they start walking away, we're going to have to go."

"Okay. Val," she says, "Do you think we're going to make it?"

"We need to at least try. We have no choice," I tell her, insisting that we need to get ready to bolt.

"Okay, Tom, we're heading out now," the man says to the phone. He motions for the other guy to follow him out of the station.

Just as they turn down the platform, heading for the exit, the train stops in its intended space. The driver of the SUV holds the exit door open for his partner-in-crime. Just as he hangs up his phone, we make a run for the train door. The man turns around and spots us as we look back, already on the train.

"Ali, get in!" I scream at her, blocking the doorway with my small frame. All I can think of is protecting Ali from getting hurt, again. There's no way in Hell I'm going to let him touch her. I'm not very big, but I will do whatever it takes.

The train starts pulling off and the men run as fast as they can, dropping the phone and the cups they were carrying around the station. The second man—the unfamiliar one—trips over a bench and lands face first on the pavement. The guy that drove the SUV into us stops for a second and looks back, analyzing the damage that his friend may have caused in his clumsy wake. He must have figured that he was fine, and starts running after the doorway where I'm standing.

Speeding up, the door of the train slips away from the end of the platform and the man dives to try and latch on. I close my eyes waiting for him to take me by the leg or my pants, but he never touches me. I squint open my eyes to find him on his hands and knees pounding the pavement in frustration. I breathe in relief. We made it onto the train.

I climb up into the train's car and find Ali sitting in a booth huddled up to the window. As soon as she sees me she stands up and wraps her arms around my neck. "I thought you weren't going to make it."

"I'm fine. He saw us, but we made it," I say, smoothing her hair down the middle of her back. "We made it."

We both sit on opposite sides in the red booth. Ali lays her head on the table between us and looks out the window. I push my forehead onto the glass and watch as the trees swiftly pass by. This is a little more peaceful than lying on the bathroom floor trying not to be caught. She lets out a sigh and breathes relief. She delicately whispers to herself, "We made it."

Before too long, I can hear the slow, steady in and out of Ali's breath. She's fallen asleep. I smile and think to myself, "I can't believe we made it."

### CHAPTER 12

Who the Hell is Mrs. Espinoza?

"Val, wake up," I hear Ali saying to me and slowly open my eyes. "It's time for breakfast!"

"It's morning already?" I ask her, though the question was stifled by an impromptu yawn. I'm surprised that we were able to sleep through the night on the train. The last thing I remember was Ali vomiting in the small bathroom next to our cabin. She's never been good on boats. Why would a train be any different? I feel guilty because I didn't get up to hold her hair or anything.

In the dining car, there's a nice spread of pancakes, waffles and other breakfast items like bacon and grits. The coffee is fresh and steaming. It smells a bit like hazelnut. The air is thick and full of syrup and cinnamon. Ali is already sitting down with her over-sized buffet plate.

"This looks great. I think I can actually eat. How're you feeling this morning?" I ask her as I take my seat across from her spot in the booth.

"I feel much better than I did yesterday. Sleep is a wonderful drug," she says, forking a load of waffle into her mouth. She smiles at me with her mouth full. Some of the waffle can be seen between her teeth.

"Oh, Ali! That's gross!" I say to her, covering my face with a napkin from the wooden table. "So, what's next?" I ask, delaying before I get my own meal.

"I figure we chill as much as possible before we get to Orlando. Or, we can get off the train earlier if we find a better place. I've always wanted to live in Florida, though." She sounds much stronger than she did yesterday. Maybe she's back to her old self. I certainly hope she's back. I don't think I'll be able to keep up the tough act for much longer. Only time will tell.

"Florida it is," I say as I get up to get myself a plate of breakfast. I eye the fruits and oatmeal. My heart is dead set on something sweet, though. I get two waffles on my plate, douse them with melted butter and drench the plate with sweet and sugary maple syrup. I grab a couple of banana nut muffins, just in case.

We eat in silence. There's generally not much to say when we have food in front of us. Ali must be starving, though. I know I am. We haven't eaten since we were at the diner the morning after we ran out on my wedding. We left the hospital before anyone could bring us breakfast. I think our nerves have gotten the best of us on this trip, honestly. The stress of our continual escape has killed our appetites. Well, until now. We might just be safe enough to feel somewhat comfortable.

With empty plates and stuffed stomachs, we sit back and watch each other from across the booth. Ali starts making silly faces at me. She holds her thumb to her perfect nose, crosses her stunning, sapphire eyes and sticks her small, pink tongue at me. I mock her by sticking my tongue out at her. "Where do you think we are?"

"I have no idea. Let's ask." She grabs an attendant walking down the aisle of the train and asks him, "Excuse me. Where are we at?"

"We're right outside of Chattanooga, Ma'am," he says and walks away. It seemed painful for him to answer the question

"We're right outside of Chattanooga, Ma'am," Ali says to me, mocking the attendant's haughty attitude. We both crumble in our booth, laughing hysterically. I'm out of breath when Ali sits up, stiff and straight as a board. "Val, I think we're being followed." Why am I not paying better attention to my surroundings?

I look down the hallway where our rooms are and the man that chased us in the SUV is standing right outside of our cabin's door. "Oh, shit."

I can feel my pulse pounding through my veins. My heart could easily burst through my chest at any second. Ali casually stands and takes my hand in hers. She leads me towards the front of the moving dinner car. "Val, you have to breathe," she says to me as if we are just taking a nice walk after breakfast. "Everything is going to be fine. You have to trust me," she continues coolly. She ducks into one of the restrooms located near the back of the next cabin.

"Ali, what are we going to do?" I ask her. She slaps my shoulder and puts her finger to her mouth, telling me to be quiet. I quickly figure out that talking is probably not the best idea at the moment. "Keep your big mouth shut for once, Val," I think to myself.

I feel sick. I want to go home. I want to be safe and secure. I want to wrap myself in my blankets and pretend that none of this has ever happened. I've pinched myself at least three times on this trip, hoping I can wake myself up from this damned stupor. It never works. I must not be sleeping. This must be real.

The seconds turn into minutes. The minutes turn into what I can only guess to be hours. The man walks by the door several times but never opens the door. Ali is looking underneath the crack between the door and the flooring, her faced smashed against the carpet. The shadows from his boots play against the ground as he walks back and forth. He stops right in front of the door, toes pointing in our direction.

The door begins to open slowly. A large dark figure appears, staring down at us on the floor. "Don't make a sound," he growls at us. His voice is surly and uncivil. This time, I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating entirely. My fingers go numb.

Ali repositions her tiny frame between the man and where I'm sitting. He wears heavy, black boots. The rips in his jeans reveal the pale skin beneath them. The only other distinguishing factor is that black hoodie I've seen him wearing every other time we've had such chance encounters. A scar marks his face from the bottom of his right eye and disappears underneath his chin.

"You little dolls are slippery. You're not scared are you?" He asks, licking his lips and letting out a bellow of a laugh. "If you're smart enough, you'll just sit right here with me, darlings."

"Who are you?" Ali asks assertively. It's nice to have the old Ali back. She's as calm and confident as ever.

"I've miss you, Ali," I think to myself.

"That doesn't matter too much at the moment. Your friend there owes my friend back home something very important."

"I'm not sure you have the right person," Ali says back to the ragged man, making her way to her feet. She puts her hands on her hips and leans to the left. Her right foot taps, ready to make a move if necessary.

"Valerie Thompson, right? Or, shouldn't it be Valerie Espinoza? Tom's waiting for you," the man says in a brusque and sarcastic tone. "You're not fooling anyone."

"Where's your friend?" Ali asks him, looking around like she's lost something or someone.

I can't believe how steady Ali is playing this character. If I had more food in my system, I'd probably shit my pants if I were the one talking. I'm sweating ferociously. I can smell my own body odor in the air surrounding us. I'm beyond terrified. The goose bumps riddle my arms, raising my tiny hairs up on end. The hair on the back of my neck is rising. I'm not sure how much longer this guy is going to let this go on. My knees shake with horror. I just know that this is the end.

Just as the man looks around to see who Ali may be talking about, she kicks the man in the groin and grabs me by the shirt. We make a run for it, diving down the aisle. The man, still on his knees in agony, reaches towards us like he can catch us with his mind. Ali pulls me to the back of the train and we lock ourselves in the luggage car. She sits down and motions for me to sit next to her.

"What luck," she says, brushing away the wisps of blonde hair from in front of her eyes. She pulls a black hair tie off her wrist and throws her hair back in a sloppy pony tail.

"No joke," I say, almost completely out of breath. "What do you suggest we do now?"

"I think we have a few options," she says after a pause to think about the question. She continues to stare at her folded legs beneath her, playing with the sole of her scuffed up shoes. "We could stay in this car until we get to Orlando. That may not be the best option if that creep doesn't get off the train. We could also get off at the next stop."

"He could follow us then, too, though," I say, messing with my own hair. My sloppy pony tails never look as good as Ali's always seem to.

"Right. So, we could... Hold on, let me think." She concentrates on the sole of her shoe and a few strands of hair fall back in front of her face.

I look at her with eyes wide, "We could jump while the train is moving and make a run for it." This is the most daring and dangerous thing I have ever considered. I'm no stuntwoman, but I'd do anything to get away from this guy.

"You've seen too many movies. I don't really want to die right now. Thanks for trying though." I should have just kept my mouth shut. But, I feel the need to go on. What's the worst that could happen? We've already almost died when our car flew off the interstate. Could it really be that much worse?

I don't know. I think it may be our best bet. That guy would never be able to tell where we left him from. All he would know is that we got off somewhere between Lexington and Orlando."

"Hmm..." Ali says, putting her fingers to her chin. "I think you may have just sold me on that idea."

After some rest time, Ali and I start trying to figure out how to slip out of the train unnoticed. I can't image there's any truly harmless way to jump from a train, but we practice jumping into people's luggage anyway. Tuck and roll, baby! I really have seen too many movies.

"Ready for this?" Ali asks. My heart pounds in my chest, again. Her hands are on the latch that clearly opens the side door of the train.

"As ready as I think I'll ever be," I say, looking into her vibrant, blue eyes.

"I'll jump first." She positions herself near the exit. I can't let her do this.

"No, let me, just in case it isn't safe. That guy wants me. He's not looking for you. At least if I jump and get hurt, you can stay here and be safe," I say. This is the most confident I've been about something since Ali lost her zest after the car accident.

"Of course it's not safe to jump from a train, Val. Hello! There's no way I'm going to let you go without me."

"I just don't want you to get any more hurt than you already are," I say, uncompromising.

"Then we'll jump together," She tells me insistently. She's so stubborn. I love that about her.

Ali slides the door on the side of the train open. There is long swaying grass on the side of the track where we will be launching ourselves from. I feel a little stitch of hope rise in my mind.

This just might work.

I start counting out loud, "One, two, three!"

On three, we both fling ourselves away from the door and land with two solid thumps on the ground. The grass didn't absorb as much of the landing as I was hoping it would have. The dense ground knocked the wind out of my lungs. I'm sure Ali had the same problem given her broken ribs.

Gasping for breath, I raise myself onto my hands and knees and look around for Ali. I see her crawling towards me gradually. "Oh, damn!" she says, screaming out in discomfort. We lay next to each other in the grass, looking up into the clear sky, trying to catch our breath. I don't think I was prepared for this at all.

### CHAPTER 13

One Foot in Front of the Other

Ali and I get to our feet after what seems like forever. I finally caught my breath. The sun has warmed up the air that surrounds us. The tall grass sways at our legs in the gentle breeze.

There's not much to look at around us. The only things within our vision is a wooded area, this same tall grass and railroad tracks that look as if they lead straight into the horizon in both directions.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" I ask Ali, holding my hand to my eyes against the sun.

"That's a stupid question, Val," I think to myself. "There's no way either of us have any idea where we are."

"Not a clue." She looks back at me and starts walking towards the emerald tree line off in the distance without saying a word otherwise. What's going on with her?

"Where are we going?" I ask her, trying to keep up with her long stride. Her legs are bit lengthier than mine. "Shouldn't we follow the tracks back to a town or something?"

"Val, if we follow the tracks the same way the train went, we may run into Captain Creep. If we head back the way we came from, we're just getting closer to going back home," she says, slightly out of breath. She seems irritated at me, again. "I don't want to get any further away from where we're headed."

"That makes sense, but... Have you ever even been camping in your life? We're walking to the woods, Ali. Who knows how long it will be until we reach a house or something?! Who knows what's out there?" She does make a good point though.

I get the logic about not going anywhere near where the crazy guy from the SUV is headed. I also get the fact that we don't want to head back in the direction of home, but that place is so far away from where we've made it to. I don't think anyone would be looking for us at the last city we passed. I'm just not up for arguing with Ali, though. I know that I should stand up and say something, but I decide against it. I still feel like I should be more vocal. Either way, we continue to the copse of trees spread out in front of us.

The forest is not too far off. I just don't know how deep it is. That's the part that kind of frightens me. Okay, it scares me a lot.

Ali begins to push through the bushes and brush surrounding the endless mass of trees. I've honestly never been a big fan of wild animals or air thick with the smell of wetland. It's all very eerie to me. And, it smells like dirt. What if we get attacked by an animal? Is it hunting season? At least the cypress trees are a good indication that we have made it much further south than I had imagined. I do remember that much, at least, from my ecology classes.

She travels onward at a much faster pace than I can seem manage with my short, stocky legs. The ground is thick with mud and fallen leaves. "Ali, can you slow down? I'm having a hard time getting through all of this stuff," I yell up at her direction, dragging my feet through the soggy muck. She's a good twenty feet ahead of me.

"Val, we can't slow down. We have to get somewhere before it gets too dark," She says, insistently moving on. I know she's tired and frustrated. She hasn't been handling the recent chain of events very well. Then again, neither have I.

As we push on, I dive into myself. My mind is writhing with thoughts and questions and no solutions like normal. Her disconnectedness has become hurtful more than anything else that has happened since we left the church. I can survive with the bruises and the lesions from bowling through the cement barrier back on the highway. I can live with the fact that Tom is after me for running out on our wedding. But, there are some things that hurt too much to consider. Would it be better if I took off on my own? Would Ali even really care? Would she be better off without me?

"Ali, I think we need to talk." She stops abruptly and turns around to look into my eyes as I approach her, winded. She doesn't look happy at all. I take that back. She doesn't look happy with _me_ at all. I do my best to meet her eyes that are so dark and full of fury. Maybe she's just tired?

"About what?" She asks. Her voice is rushed and harsh compared to the way I am used to her speaking to me. It sounds like she's annoyed with me or the fact that I've asked her to stop and speak with me.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" I feel stupid asking. I can feel my face glow bright red and drain of all color at the same time. It's an instant and synchronized reaction. I look down out my mud-covered feet and twist my fingers around each other at my belt loops.

"Why would you ask me a question like that, Val?"

"It seems like you're not interested in me sometimes. In the cab, I told you that I love you and you didn't say anything back. I don't know," I trail off mid-thought.

"Can't we talk about this later? I don't think this is the best time for something like this. I just want to get somewhere and lay down."

"No, Ali. We can't talk about this later. I'm dying on the inside now," I say. I'm very peeved at the notion that it's not important to her. I can feel my face sagging from exhaustion and defeat. This is not how I wanted to make my stand.

"But if we don't get out of here, there's a very good possibility that we could both die." Ali leans toward me as she finished her statement. She's very forceful with her words. Her forehead is wrinkled in anger. Her once bright and clear eyes are painfully black. Her eyebrows furrow at the sight of my face. She leans in, getting closer and closer to the face that she seems so mad at. It almost looks like she wants to hit me.

"I'm tired of running. I could care less about those people. So, what?! Let them kill me. I'm done. I just want to be with you. I want to be happy, again. I'm not enjoying being with you anymore, Ali." I won't let her do this. I have to get this off my chest. I feel like it's now or never.

"You're not enjoying this anymore? Do you really think that I am? I almost fucking died in my own car back on the interstate. We almost died," she says as she turns and stomps off a few feet in front of me. She looks back. "You know what? I don't want to do this right now. Let's just keep walking, Val. We'll sort things out when we find a hotel or somewhere to sleep. I can't do this right now."

She turns gloomily and walks away slower than she had been moving before. At least she's making an effort to allow me to keep up. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I also don't want to hurt anymore, either. I need to know what's going on between us. Does she even truly love me? Am I just a really good friend? Is she tired of me? Is she regretting her decision to have pulled me out of the church? I feel hollow. It's like my soul is some black hole that is slowly taking over my body and my mind.

We've never talked about our situation before. We certainly haven't spoken much about our most recent events and how they are affecting us. Do we have a relationship beyond being best friends? She kissed me in the ambulance. That has to mean something, right? I guess I have just kind of assumed that she was interested in being more than friends this entire time. Could things have actually changed so much in such a short amount of time?

"What are we going to do with ourselves, Ali?" I ask out loud, knowing she won't be able to hear me. It feels good to ask anyway, like I've gotten a large stone off my shoulders. But, I can't help but sense that I've done something terrible.

### CHAPTER 14

It's Time for a Change

The woods were not as dreadfully deep as I was afraid of. In fact, I would say that it only took us a few hours to get to the other side. We didn't run into any vicious, wild animals. You could count a squirrel we saw, but that's about it. So far, this has been the least amount of danger we've managed to find for ourselves.

Outside of the woods, we come to find a small town. There are not many major buildings, but at least there is a Wal-Mart sign we catch a glimpse of off in the distance. It looks like the place is full of homes, churches, the lone Supercenter and a school.

"Think there'd be a cheap hotel here? I'm almost out of reserves after the damned train," Ali says to me, looking around. We're both trying to catch our bearings. Where did we end up? At least she's being civilized with me, again.

"If there's a Wal-Mart, I'm sure there's at least a motel," I say back to her, wiping the sweat from my forehead. It's pretty warm and muggy around here. The mosquitoes are out in full force, too.

"I think it'd be a good idea if we ditched our outfits. I don't know about myself, but you stink," She says to me, throwing a punch my way. She grins and a little snort escapes from her nose. I'm glad to see that she's being playful and civilized, again. I was afraid she'd still be mad at me after the talk we had going into the woods.

"You're a bitch!" I say jokingly, pretending to sniff my shirt. "Yeah, I think that'd be the best bet. I'd kill to take a shower." I smell like I've been in a circus tent with an elephant for a year, or something. Let's just say this-- I reek of pure, unadulterated nasty.

"Be careful what you wish for." Ali winks at me. "Come on. Let's go get ourselves a room." She's killing me. Is she playing with my emotions on purpose? Is she torturing me for the fun of it? I can't seem to figure her out half of the time. Maybe she's found some hope since we stumbled out of the woods.

I follow Ali down an ancient, worn path. It looks like this may have been a bike trail or something at some point in the very near past. The dirt is extremely compacted. It feels like I'm walking on concrete pavement. The grass looks like it's starting to try and grow again where it had been trampled to death. I kind of like the way it looks. Fresh beginnings. It's an interesting concept. The symbolism resonates so deep in my own heart I can't help but take notice.

Once we get to walking towards the direction of the shops and Wal-Mart, we see a few motels down the road. "It'd probably be best to stop off here before we walk to the motel. It seems stupid to make a second trip," Ali says to me.

"Sounds good to me. Once we get to the room, all I want to do is take a freaking shower and lay down." We walk side-by-side into the store through the "EXIT" doors holding hands. It's the first moment I've actually been able to feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. That's a nice feeling to have. I just wish I could share it with Ali without fear of rejection or attitude.

The Wal-Mart is extremely small. I guess I should have expected it since we're in such a small town. The Supercenter is not what I would imagine really qualifies as a true Supercenter.

I'm not even sure what kind of a city this is. I wouldn't even consider this town a piece of the suburbs. This is the closest thing to a rural community I've ever seen. The cows at the fence down the road kind of tipped me off.

In the Wal-Mart, I try my best to look beyond the meager provisions the town has to provide us. We pick out a couple of plain backpacks, three ordinary outfits each, dinner for the night and extra underwear.

The backpacks are your typical school backpacks. There's nothing special about them at all. The outfits we bought were the standard jeans, simple cotton t-shirts and cheap shoes.

We want to blend in. Let me correct myself—we need to blend in. We can't afford to stand out any more than we already do. I don't think that two girls kissing in the middle of the street and holding hands while walking down the sidewalk would be perfectly acceptable around here. Of course, that's just a personal assumption.

Ali also bought a pack of Camel Menthol Silvers and a pair of scissors. "What exactly are you planning on doing with the cigarettes and scissors, Ali?" I ask her. Neither of us has ever smoked in our entire lives. Why would I want to start now? It doesn't make much sense to me. I don't really like the smell of them, either. I hope she doesn't plan on making me smoke any. Then again, this week has held many firsts for me.

"Usually people _smoke_ cigarettes, Val. Please don't tell me you are that sheltered. I know better than that," She said and teased a wink at me. I hate when she bats her eyelashes. I adore her eyes and she knows it. Those damned things turn me into liquid.

After we paid for our stuff, we walk down the road and up to this tiny motel that advertises tenants to pay by the hour. "That's special," I say, turning to look at Ali. "Are you sure you want to stay here? That kind of seems dirty. What if they don't wash the bed covers?" Just the thought makes me shudder in disgust. I've seen those reality shows. It's not pretty.

"Do you see any better options?" Ali asks me, waving her arms around her body towards all directions of the vacant town. The lights on the hotel next door aren't even lit up. We're screwed.

"True," I say as I look around the dark street. There's nothing else around here. I mean nothing. Every inn, motel or hotel is either shut down or advertising the same thing. Might as well make it work here.

I hold the door to the small office open for Ali. She kisses me on the cheek as she makes her way through the entrance, skimming her body seductively against mine. "What a flirt," I think to myself as I roll my eyes. No matter what she says or does, I'll never be able to let Ali go. I grin a little and walk in behind her.

We get our room key from the creepy guy up front. "You're in Room 130 down the hall there. Don't make too much noise, my room's right next to yours," the guy says. "I'm Bill. If you need anything, dial '0' on your room phone. Can't guarantee I'll be there to answer it, so leave a message if it's important." I don't think we'll need to bother Bill at all. He reminds me of some villain from a serial killer movie, or a child molester. I can't decide which.

In the room, we lay the contents of our bags out on the bed. We probably should have bought our own blanket. You know, just in case. I still don't feel completely comfortable with the thought of actually touching the bed, yet.

"Are you ready for a makeover?" Ali asks me as she waves the scissors around her head, making snipping noises by clicking both sides together. My face freezes. There's no way she's thinking about doing what I think she's thinking about doing is there? The surprise has to be obvious on my face because she points at me and giggles a little.

"What are you doing? You've got to be joking, Ali," I say in pure astonishment. I'm shocked. Ali would never cut her hair off. She's been refusing to cut any amount of hair off her head since we were young kids. Her hair was rarely even trimmed!

My mom used to make me get my hair chopped off up to my ear lobes before the heat of summer came. Ali would make fun of me and call me silly names like "Mushroom Head." I would be so jealous that her parents would let her grow her hair out as long as she wanted. She was so lucky.

"Does this look like a joke?" She asks me as she takes a clump of hair in her fist and shears it down to her scalp. I mean, she took the scissors as close to her skin as she could possibly go without drawing blood. What the fuck is she doing?

"She's lost her damned mind," I think to myself as I watch her go to town on her hair. This trip has finally tipped her over the edge into the abyss of insanity. She's finally gone off the deep end. I still can't grasp the concept of what's happening. Is this what everything has come to?

"No, I guess not." My face has to look ridiculous. I'm in complete amazement. I can't believe Ali just cut away at her crown of golden hair. She was always so proud of her angelic tresses! She even seems excited about it. I just stand there staring out her, mouth gaping wide open, as she enthusiastically finishes the job. All the while, she giggles at me with an amused smile sweeping across her face.

"Think anyone will recognize me?" She asks as she rubs her nearly bald head in the bathroom mirror? She's so proud of her self. "How do I look?" She dances around the bathroom happily.

"Actually, you look great. Just need to even it up a bit," I say. And it's true. She does look good. She doesn't need hair to be beautiful.

Ali slips one of the new razors from a Wal-Mart bag and smooth shaves her scalp. "Seriously, Ali? I think we could have fixed it..." I say. I'm still extremely surprised and taken back by the course this night has taken.

"No way, Val! I've always wanted to do this. I just needed a good excuse. I think running for our lives is a damn good one, too!" She says, laughing as she rubs her shiny, smooth skin. I didn't know she's always wanted to cut her hair. Why would she put it off for so long? Is there anything else I don't know about her? I didn't think we kept secrets from each other. "It's your turn," she says as she twirls in semi-circle.

"I'm not shaving my head, Ali," I say. I get that wish granted. But, she does cut my hair very short. She even snuck some bleach for my hair behind my back. It's too late to stop her now!

Once the deed was done, I looked in the mirror. I feel like a completely different person. I look like a platinum blonde version of Peter Pan or Tinkerbell. I'll be honest, too. I kind of like the new me.

She starts the shower water and begins to disrobe herself. The steam from the water begins to rise over the curtain and rod holding it in place. My heart starts racing.

Normally, Ali would ask me to excuse myself or give me some sort of clue to leave. I should not be in here right now. She looks back at me before she opens the shower curtain and nods towards the tub. Was she just asking me to join her? What's going on here? These are not the usual hints I get from Ms. Ali.

Is everything happening tonight a big joke? Is the joke on me? I'm so confused.

Ali hops into the hot shower and laughs. Her confidence seems to be completely restored. I hastily clean up Room 130 and get ready to take my own shower. That's what I'm supposed to do, right?

And then, out of nowhere, it hits me. We are two new people. We're not the same Ali and Val that we were before tonight. Don't get me wrong, we are the same people. We have just changed, though. I can't explain it.

Maybe now is the time for me to make a bigger change in my life. I've been gutsy on my own terms, but I haven't had the nerve to make Ali mine, yet. Fuck what I'm _supposed_ to be doing. I'm tired of making everyone else happy and doing what they think is the right thing. I'm going to be me for once in my life. It's another beautiful first to write on my list.

I nervously undress myself outside of the bathroom door. What am I doing? What if she rejects me? "Stop thinking," I reason with myself. Thinking always gets me in trouble. Thinking and worrying is why I am not as outgoing as Ali. It's the very reason I wish I was more like her, actually. This is going to happen.

"Remember, Val, screw what you're supposed to be doing. Now is the time," I think to myself, slowly building confidence in my mind.

I slowly open the bathroom door, steam pouring into the room behind me. Stepping into the shower, I hold my breath intently. Ali doesn't seem to notice my presence. I gently caress her shoulders and tickle my fingertips down her back. Ali turns to me and pulls my face into hers.

### CHAPTER 15

The Morning After the Perfect Night

More often than not I'm anxious and troubled by one thing or another. This morning I wake up and everything feels just fine. I feel completely altered for the better. Nothing matters in the world at this very moment. The events that have unfolded prior to today no longer have any bearing on my mind what-so-ever. Ali and I are together for the first time since we were young and finding our way through life's mysterious mazes. We can just be. Man, it's so nice to just _be_ for once in our lives.

I lean my face towards the top of Ali's stark naked head and kiss it gently, trying not to disturb her sleep. I wrap my arms just slightly tighter around her naked shoulders and squeeze. Looking at the ceiling, I think to myself, "This is not a dream. This is the real thing." I have never felt so alive in all of my life.

The light shines through the thin curtains hanging over the rustic window. Dust particles dance like snowflakes in the sunshine before my eyes. How peaceful is this? There are no sirens. There are no noisy neighbors outside our hole-in-the-wall of a room. No parents. Nothing. The only noise I can hear is the sound of Ali's breathing flowing through here rosy mouth. This is unquestionably perfect.

I tilt my cheek against the upper most part of Ali's sleek head and slide back into a half awake and half asleep state of semi-consciousness. No reason in getting up if Ali isn't awake yet. Plus, I don't want to bother her. She's probably not going to wake up any time soon, anyway.

At some point during the course of the morning I had surrendered myself completely to the Sand Man and fell back asleep. It doesn't feel like it's been more than five minutes and Ali wakes me up. It is right around noon and the sun barely peaks between the curtains hanging over the window. She touches my cheek and I grab her hand, letting her know that I am finally awake, too.

"Good morning, sunshine!" She says enthusiastically. "Let's get a move on the day."

"Ali, it's already noon," I say, rolling my eyes are her and pausing for a yawn that never finds its way beyond my tongue. "There's no getting a move on the day when it's already after noon."

"Technicalities," she says to me, waving her hands around her bare scalp. She gets up and checks herself out in the mirror over the dresser. "I look good." She blows a kiss at herself and begins pulling out some makeup from her backpack on the floor near the dresser.

"How does my hair look?" I ask her, looking for a little attention. I hate how needy I can be sometimes. Whatever. I still want her to notice me. Just a little attention could do me some good.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," she says. She turns around and walks toward me. Ali leans in to give me a kiss.

I think that's the first time I've ever heard her say something like that to me. As silly as this may sound, she's definitely the man in this relationship. Wait, did we even have a relationship? "Stop thinking so much, Val!" I think to myself and slap my palm against my forehead.

Ali goes back to her reflection and applies thick black eyeliner and dark mascara around her eyes in the mirror. She looks at me intently through the echo of herself and sets her eye pencil down. "What's wrong?" she asks me. She seems genuinely concerned.

"About last night..." I say as I kind of trail off before making an actual statement. My fingers scrape down my face in a bit of frustration. I'm afraid to get into any serious discussions after the failed attempt yesterday in the woods. I'd hate to ruin yet another fantastic thing. The most perfect thing ever.

That does seem to be about par for the course with me, though. I'm so good at ruining everything. I kill every opportunity I have in my own wake. I am the best saboteur I know.

"Val, don't worry about last night. It meant a lot to me, but I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. I'll understand if you're not interested in me the way I am interested in you," she says sullenly. She looks like that was the most painful thing she has ever had to say. Her eyes dip down to the rustic dresser just underneath her hands.

"No! I don't think you understand where I was going with that. Shit." Tears erupt from my eyes and fall down my cheeks. Here go the waterworks, again. I bury my face in my hands.

"Well then maybe you should tell me what you mean," she says as she moves to sit next to me on the bed. There's a twinge of attitude in her voice. She hugs me with all of her strength. I wish I was in the right frame of mind to enjoy it as much as I wanted to.

"Ali, I love you. I love you more than anything." I'm about to break down into a fit of sobs at this point. "I want every night for the rest of my life to be just like last night. I want to be with you every second of every day until the day I die. It's been killing me not to be able to tell you how I really felt."

I just spilled my heart and guts out all over the bed I sit on. If it were a visible flood, it'd be as thick and as red as the blood that flows through my veins. My shoulders are bobbing up and down with each of my individual sniffs. I feel sick. I have no idea how this is going to turn out. Stupid nerves.

Ali straightens up and grabs me by the shoulders. She shakes me a few times to get me to snap out of my hysteria. I suck at this and I know it. "Val, I love you. Why didn't you tell me all of these things before?"

"I tried. I really did." A cry interrupts my speech. "I was so afraid you'd reject me and I'd be left all alone. I'd rather have you only as a friend than nothing at all. I was so afraid of losing you, Ali." I can't help but be entirely truthful. If I'm going to have my own little Valerie Revolution here, I knew I would need to break down and change everything.

"Listen to me, Val. You will never lose me. Never in a million years. Do you not remember me pulling you out of the church by your dress?" The blubbering starts rolling for Ali, too. We both look at each other and gurgle half-hearted giggles between ourselves. I'm mainly laughing at myself and how stupid I've been.

"Yeah, I guess I do." A smirk wipes across my face. How could I not remember that Ali was the only reason I actually ran out on the wedding? Well, not the only reason. I've never been attracted to guys. I've definitely never been interested in the really creepy ones that stalk chicks for a thrill.

"You have nothing to worry about, Val. I will never leave you. We are together. You are here and I am here. That will never change. I'm never going anywhere without you." Ali lies back on the bed and pulls me down with her. We cuddle and hug, allowing the cries to flow as they may. "What do you think we should do? You and I still have a life to make in Florida."

"I guess it's time for us to get there then, huh?" I ask her in my best sing-song voice. I'm a horrific singer, by the way. My voice cracks, still sniffling away at the tears that had just engulfed me. Ali laughs at me.

When it comes right down to it, this is the most amazing I have ever felt in my entire life, despite the tears and incessant weeping. We are two completely new people. We are stronger now than we have ever been. I feel invincible. I know that as long as we are together, we can do anything.

Despite the odds, we can make it. We will make it.

### CHAPTER 16

Two Tickets to Paradise, Please

Ali and I smooth talk a few local high school kids in front of the motel into letting us hitch a ride to the next major city. It turns out that we've been only twenty minutes from Montgomery, Alabama all night. Who knew? There's no international airport there, but the one that's there will do.

The kids, as friendly and nice as they are, are purely interested in getting to their destination. Thankfully, they let us ride in the back, though. For the most part they discuss what their plans are for their big, awesome weekend in the city. Oh, boy, are these boys sheltered. Before this trip began I would have laughed at the thought. At the moment, I'm pretty stoked that they're on their way there.

I zone out—for the most part— for the duration of the trip to Montgomery. There's a lot on my mind. I've always been weary of the unknown. I've never really been able to put myself in situations where I wasn't in outright and complete control. This is definitely not a comfortable situation for me. This is totally Ali's forte, though. She's all about the unknown and getting into wild adventures. I'm pretty thankful for that, too.

Only one thing sets my mind at ease. That's the fact that Ali is here with me all the way to the end. She's right here by my side holding my hand. Honestly, that's really all that matters to me anymore.

I still can't help but ruminate on a few things despite the calm that Ali provides me. What is life going to be like when we get to where we're going? Are we even going to make it to Tampa? What about living situations? What if something happens? What will we do for work and money and food? I guess, like everything else so far, we'll have to figure that out when the time comes. I think I've gotten pretty good at thinking on my feet. The only problem is the apprehensions that come along with all the not-knowing. I should just shut my brain up. I wish it were that easy, at least.

The high school boys drop us off outside of Montgomery Regional Airport. Apparently, the airport was on their way to wherever they were going. I was too submersed in my own head to really pay attention and listen to what they had to say. Ali slips them a twenty and they're on their way.

"Good luck," she yells at their tail lights. I wonder what that was meant for.

As we walk into the ticketing area several members of the staff and some travelers eye us like we're from a circus. Maybe it's the hair? Maybe it's the fact that we're two ladies holding hands? Who knows what it is? In any case, I could not care less. Let them have their thoughts and whispers. I won't let them bother me anymore.

"Fuck them," Ali whispers to me. She's my backbone. I wish I could be as amazing as she is. I'm working on it, though.

"Where are you headed?" the attendant at the counter asks us. I can tell she is curious about where we are coming from. Her eyes flicker across our faces, more towards our bumps and bruises than anything else. The bandages from the car accident had completely fallen to shambles, and they were packed with sweat and dirt, so we threw them away back at the motel. Ali's eye is still kind of blackened, but the makeup pretty much covers it all up.

"Two tickets to Tampa," I say in the most confident manner I could possibly muster. "I can do this," I think to myself silently.

I'm trembling. I know what happens to people trying to take one way flights to other states. Those people get hassled. We don't have anything illegal in our bags, but still. There's always a risk that they'll fuss over something. Isn't that always the case? We're no celebrities regardless of the chaos in our current lives. I'm afraid that they're going to make a big deal out of something. I need to come up with a plan, like, yesterday.

My main fear is not getting out of Montgomery. I am trying to be strong against the gawking and murmuring, but I can't get relaxed here. Ali gave me some great advice, but we are obviously not welcome and not accepted in Alabama. I honestly shouldn't be surprised by that. What if this lady won't give us the tickets to Florida? We need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. At least we're not trying to get out of the country. That would be much worse. "Calm down, you can do this," I repeat back to myself.

"Let me look some things up here. What do you girls do for a living? Are you from around here?" she asks us unassumingly as she worked on our request. I think she's simply trying to make conversation. But, I still can't help but feel like she's meddling. Why does it have to be her business?

"We're actresses," Ali says, glancing over at me slyly. She completely avoids the last question the lady asked us.

"Smart move, Ali," I think to myself as I look back at her. "She's got this," I think to myself. She's so smooth; always so calm and collected. I try to feed off of Ali's unwavering energy.

"We're going back to finish some work on a film there," I say as I nod in agreement. Ali picks up my hand. I do my best to make my eyes sparkle in the awful lighting above us. The attendant at the kiosk notices Ali's flamboyant gesture and pulls a cute, pink triangle necklace from beneath her collared shirt. Could she have been any more obvious?

Her eyes glittered at Ali. This simple signal made my blood boil. The temperature in my hands and face had to have increased at least by ten degrees. My palms started to sweat and I felt like I was going to scream. She's friendly, alright. She's a little too friendly for my particular taste. Ali sees my fists clench, digging my nails into the skin of my palms. She touches my shoulder for reassurance. "Calm down," I say to myself. I seem to be thinking that frequently these days, don't I?

"Oh, nice! I don't recognize you from anything. Should I?" the attendant asks us. Her gaze seems to lighten up at the thought of booking flights for two celebrities. Maybe she was just happy to see two other lesbians in Alabama. I honestly couldn't tell the difference.

"We're indie," we both say at the same time. We chuckle in unison, holding our hands to our mouths. Ali winks and bats her eyelashes at me.

"Pinch, poke!" She says to me, pinching my right shoulder. "Looks like your buying drinks when we get inside." I like how she can act so calm and still be so playful. Given past experiences, this is just Ali all over. I don't think she's acting at all right now.

The associate smirks at Ali's silliness. "That's probably why I don't recognize your faces. I'm more of a mainstream movie-goer," she says and pauses to take a moment to look at the screen. "Okay, ladies, I've found two tickets. There's a layover in Atlanta. One way, or would you like to book a return trip, too?"

"I'm not too sure when the film will wrap up in Tampa. We better make it a one-way trip for now." Ali leans in towards the attendant. "You know how this stuff works, I'm sure." What a freaking flirt! I secretly want to punch her in the arm for being so frisky. But, then again, if it works in our favor, I'm all for it.

"Oh, of course!" the lady behind the counter says firmly. Out of the three of us, not one of us has any real idea what we're talking about. "I just need to see some identification and a method of payment. This will be no problem. Here's my card for when you get back in town. I can show you some really nice places around here for people like us."

We're sitting in the terminal, waiting for our departure to Atlanta when Ali puts her hand on my knee. "Guess what I don't see?" she asks me, looking around us.

"A Starbucks? A bar? There are a million things I can think of, Ali," I say sipping down some of my nice, cold water.

"Those, too. But we haven't been spotted yet. Think they're still looking for us?" she asks me disinterestedly as she screws on the lid to her water jug. She has to understand that they will be looking for us. Tom would never give up that easily. Would he?

"Probably. I highly doubt they'll be able to notice us anymore, though." I laugh and rub my palm playfully over her five o'clock shadow of a hairdo.

Ali is just as beautiful as ever. If anything, she's more stunning now because I can actually see her face. There's nothing keeping me from looking at every angle of her jaw line and nose anymore. Her mop of hair was always sliding from behind one of her ears or the other. I have to admit. It's great from my vantage point. She emits an aura of pure radiance. There's more sparkle in her glow now.

"True that, sister! A toast to our new identities!" she says to me after pushing my hand away from her head. She raises her water bottle just above her shoulders.

"To our new identities and our new life," I say back. We smash our water jugs together and chuckle as the crew for the flight starts to file down the stairs and out onto the tarmac.

"Ready or not, here we come!" Ali yells out in excitement as we watch through the window across from our seats. She stands up and pulls her backpack over one should and takes my hand. "I love you, Val."

"I love you, too, Ali."

Shortly after the crew members take their places aboard the aircraft, the intercom rings out, "Now boarding Delta flight to Atlanta." The attendant at the kiosk repeats herself a few times and we descend down the stairs after the aircrew.

"Florida, here we come," I say out loud to no one in particular.

### CHAPTER 17

Atlanta has a Holding Tank?

As soon as we get off the plane in Atlanta to wait for our flight to Tampa, we're greeted by three security guards. "Ladies, come with us," a male in a TSA uniform says. This guy is an intimidating character. I'm not sure we have any other option other than to comply.

"Ali," I say, trying to seem confused.

"Just go with it," she says back to me.

One female and two male guards lead us down into a hallway deep within the guts of the airport. The female security guard that came down here with Ali and I asks us both to take a seat with the rest of the people in the overcrowded and claustrophobic room.

I would say that there are about ten of us sitting on the benches around the small chamber. The room couldn't have been any bigger than a small public restroom. Every person in the area looks similar to the way we used to look. Their hair matches what could have been a description for ours in varying lengths and shapes. One girl sitting in the corner looks as if she could have been a dead ringer for Ali except for the makeup and freckles.

"This is just a precaution. You two resemble the description of two missing women from Michigan," the lady in the uniform said as she started to shut the door behind us.

"We're going to miss our flight to Tampa!" Ali cries out at the guard trying to play the part of a worried little girl. The act didn't budge the guard at all.

"This won't take long," the guard says just before shutting the door completely. This situation has the smell of a power trip all over it like the stink that sticks around after a piece of fruit has gone bad.

Missing women? What did she mean by missing women? I wasn't missing. I freaking ran away. Ali ran away. We ran away together. We left to save what was left of our lives. We weren't abducted or missing. This is bullshit.

I wonder what Tom has put out to the media about this. Has it hit the media, yet? Did the media even know about the two of us? I had never been interviewed or photographed. Would more people be looking for us? Son of a bitch.

Scanning the room with my eyes, I see a small poster with two images of two young ladies on it. One is a picture of me in my wedding gown at the church. Most recent, of course. Ali's is the picture from her ID badge for when she is on set.

I look at her and she doesn't even come close to resembling the Ali she once was. Her hair is almost completely gone. Her makeup is completely different than the way she would ever have worn it before. The only thing that is still the same is the heart tattoo on her neck, but you can't see it in the photograph and not many people ever even knew about it other than me and the tattoo artist that worked on her. "She'll be fine," I think to myself.

The picture of me is a polar opposite version, as well. In the picture I'm all dressed up. Makeup caked my face on that day. I remember it well. The ladies even worked the lipstick in order to make my lips look bigger than they actually are. "Thank you, bitches!" I think to myself excitedly. I might be out of danger, too. If anyone was to look at us next to the images they chose, they'd never be able to tell that it was us.

And just like that, my brain flips a switch. Despite all of the reassurance I was giving myself, I'm still freaking out. What the fuck is going on right now? I still didn't know what exactly was going on. I feel like my chest is collapsing in on itself. All of the air has deflated from my lungs. I can't seem to even choke out a breath. Ali waves her hands over my face. I can hear her talking to me in the background behind the noise of all the thoughts flowing through my brain.

"Val, just breathe. You have to breathe. Everything is going to be okay." Ali starts shaking my leg with her arm. I feel like I'm going to fall dead to the floor at any second. She catches my attention after repeating "Breathe," to me several times. I look around and see that I am not the only one in a panicky fit.

Hours seem to pass, but it's only been minutes. Out of nowhere an intercom cracks and breaks the silence and stiffness in the room.

"Alright, ladies, everyone stand and single file over to the wall over there. Stand shoulder to shoulder with your back against the wall with the red line. Please wait for further instructions," an intercom directs us. This must be what it feels like to be marched towards the lineup of a shooting squad or the electric chair.

My heart slams against the insides of my rib cage. Is my body strong enough to contain its vigorous throbbing? My heart beat is more of a hum, like the engine of a jet, than a steady thumping sound. I can feel my pulse racing in my thumbs and pulsating against the sides of my throat. This can't be how it ends. Can it?

We all fall in place against the wall with the blood red line. How fitting, right? I feel like it's my blood staining that wall in a perfectly painted horizontal line. We stand shoulder to shoulder as instructed, our bodies too close to the next for comfort. Ali is standing next to me. That's the only hope and support I have right now.

Many of the girls standing in this line are tearing up. Very few are holding their heads as strong and as high as Ali is. These poor women are suffering because of my actions. My personal choices have become a punishment for everyone around me. I can't believe I've let things get this far.

Ali and I have changed enough. We could get away from this. Deep down inside, I know we could escape. I wasn't wearing any makeup, unlike how the portrait portrays me. Ali was wearing much more than she normally would have despite how her picture painted her. We were completely indistinguishable. I could hardly recognize myself. I don't think Tom ever paid that much attention to what I looked like, anyway. These guards haven't been able to tell yet, either.

The tragic sense of guilt overcomes me as Tom makes his way into the room through the door that we were lead from. This was not what I expected, at all. Four security guards follow hot on his tail. His tie sways back and forth as he walks up and down the aisle of my victims against the wall. He stops at Ali and looks into her eyes. Thankfully, he'd never been around Ali for any serious length of time. There's no way he's know how to tell who she was just by the color of her eyes.

His gaze comes to a halt on me. He looks me over and touches my hair. I flinch and draw back from his touch. "Who do you think you are, mister?" I ask loudly, pissed off at the fact that he had the audacity to touch a person he seemingly didn't know. "Don't ever touch me. Don't touch any of these girls."

"I had a feeling it was you, Valerie," Tom says as she waves the security guards to move in our direction. What in the world have I just sentenced myself to?

The security guards dismiss the rest of the women. They all single file out through the red doorway that had held us captive. One touches my shoulder on her way out. Her pink lips look like they silently mimic the words, "Good luck."

"I won't let her stay in here alone," Ali stands up, boldly pushing out her chin and inflating her chest. She's always ready for a fight. I love this woman. I know she is very protective of me. She has always been my noble defender. She's always so vigilant.

"Ali: my sweet heroine," I think to myself.

Tom breaks my tender thoughts. "What were you thinking? Running out on me? Nobody runs out on Tomas Espinoza!" Tom screams and yells. At some point he got in my face and that's where I lost it.

"Fuck off!" I yelled, pushing him away from me. "I never loved you. I never wanted you. You and my parents were too busy with your own agendas to see, hear or even comprehend what I wanted with my life. I don't love you, Tom. I won't be with you. I won't marry you. No amount of fame or money could ever change that."

Tom backs further away from me. He cowers like a puppy that's just been admonished for having an accident on the carpet. His eyes grow wide and fill with tears. Tom buries his face in his palms. For the first time ever, Tom is crying. Actually, I wouldn't call it crying. He's blubbering like a little baby. How does this man go from forcing himself into my life, to forcing me to marry him, to wanting my girlfriend and me dead to this? Was it really that easy to get him to break down? I should have done this a long time ago. Nothing makes sense anymore.

"Tom, you have to understand. It's not you. It's your gender... Does that make sense? We could have been friends, kind of. Well, maybe not, but do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

I could keep going on and on if I had to. Tom is making this all very awkward for me. I'm honestly not sure what to do with this guy right now. What else could I possibly say?

Ali takes my hand and Tom sees at the gesture, obviously disturbed. Dismay crosses his face all at once. Maybe I'm the bad guy for not letting him know sooner? Maybe my parents are the ones to blame? No. I am the only one that can take the heat for this. Should I have been more vocal from the beginning instead of just showing disinterest? I feel the weight of a thousand mistakes folding in on my mind.

"We're gay, Tom," Ali says matter-of-factly. She's never cared for him. Hell, neither have I but at least I'm willing to be civil and sensitive about these things, in the face of the fact that he's tried to have us murdered. Maybe there's a chance we'll make it out alive. One can only hope, right?

Tom waves the security guards away. As soon as they exit and lock the door behind them, he withdraws a pistol from the back of his pants, hanging his arms at his sides. Looking defeated, he stands up and places the barrel of the pistol right between my eyes. "Oh, shit. I'm toast," I think to myself.

I brace myself for the gun blast. I'll probably never even hear the gunshot that kills me. The bang that will end my life and never be heard of by anyone. If he thought he could cover up my death in car accident, I'm sure he things the same thing about this.

I bolster all of the courage I have in my being. I'm ready to die for Ali. "Oh, no," I think. "Poor Ali is going to have to watch this whole event take place."

I move my eyes to Ali. She's dropped to the ground and started shaking. "Please, don't, Tom. She never meant to hurt you," she says as she backs herself into the closest corner of the room.

"Shut up you dyke bitch. This is between me and Valerie." Where the hell were the fucking security guards? I bet he paid them off just like he did everything and everyone else.

"So much for being nice, Val," I think. I should have taken his vulnerability and used it to my advantage. There's no sense in thinking about the past now, though.

"Don't talk to her that way, Tom," I say, staring into his eyes with all the hate I can muster. "If you want me dead, pull the trigger."

"Val, no!" Ali screams. She wails relentlessly.

Just as Tom begins to speak to me, another man comes rushing into the room with his weapon drawn. He steps in and places the barrel of the gun right on the back of Tom's forehead. Tom turned swiftly to meet the gaze of the man that was on his heels. During the process, he forced me into a headlock.

"What a way to charm a girl," I think.

What little is left of my hair is in my face. My bangs cover my eyes and touch the tip of my nose. I can barely see what is going on around me. I mostly just see shoes standing in place. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of a face. However, I can hear everything loud and clear.

"Put the gun down, Tom," the mystery man says. He looks very familiar to me for some reason. I just can't place where I know him from, though. "I'm only going to say it once."

"Listen to him, Tom," Ali screams from the corner of the room. Her body cowers as she curls up into a tight ball, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Tom lowers the gun to his side and pushes me to the ground. I hit my chest on one of the benches and crawl as quickly as I can to hold onto Ali.

"This is between me and Val, Greg. You were paid to keep an eye on them and finish the job. You have no further place in this. In fact, I think you should be killed for failing so miserably."

Greg is a smaller man. His frame is about as thick as mine. His black suit fits securely to his body. His pants fall short of his shoes, making him look a little geeky. He looks like a guy in one of those scene kid bands. If I wasn't a lesbian in love with Ali, he might be kind of cute.

Tom turns to me, gun still in hand. Greg keeps his weapon locked and loaded on Tom's face. Tom turns to me and begins to speak.

"Listen, Val. I don't understand. I never will." He chokes on his thick tongue. He seems to have calmed down quite a bit since Greg made his appearance. "But I'm going to give you one chance, thanks to Greg. If you ever go public with anything—and I mean absolutely anything—I will kill you and I will kill your dyke friend. You got that?"

"I swear we won't say anything, Tom. We just want to be left alone. We don't want to cause any trouble."

"Make this quicker, buddy. You're running out of time," Greg says persuasively.

"You'll disappear. If I ever see you or hear about you, I will find you," Tom says as he holsters the pistol back in place behind his back. "This, Val, is my only warning. Greg, it goes for you, too."

"Are you okay, Ali?" I whisper. She doesn't respond. Ali stares at me with pitiful and terrified eyes. Her pupils have dilated so much that her blue irises have all but completely disappeared. "Everything is going to be okay. Listen to me. We're fine." I hug her close to my body.

The security guards come in and escort us to our gate shortly after Tom leaves the room, still in tears and cursing about gay people and lesbians. What a douche-bag he has turned out to be. In the beginning, I had always had the vibe that he was much more harmless than he appeared to be. Guess I was wrong, yet again.

Regardless of my current feelings towards Tom, I am extremely thankful that I didn't lose my face just then. I feel like I owe Greg my life for sure. I couldn't imagine what that would have done to Ali. Shit, I can't imagine what Tom would have done to Ali.

Once we got to the gate, we were the last in line to board the plane. Greg finds his way to the aisle seat beside us. "We actually made it," I think to myself.

How long were we down in that room? It couldn't have been that long. We only had about a two hour layover in Atlanta. It seemed like time stood still for days down there, though.

"Are you ladies, okay?" Greg asks, once the plane begins its departure down the runway.

"Do we look like we're okay?" Ali questions him nervously. "Who are you, anyway? What did he mean by 'you were paid to finish the job,' Greg?"

"Val's mother found out shortly after you ran away that I was once Tom's partner," he says looking at me with grief in his eyes.

"Partner?" I ask. This is a little confusing to me. Were they both thugs in some underground celebrity gang? Was he his stunt double? They didn't look anything alike.

"Tom and I were once lovers. He became rich and famous and threw me out with yesterday's trash. He couldn't stand the thought of being ridiculed for his sexuality." Greg twiddles his thumbs in his lap. "He is ashamed of who he is." This is obviously a touchy subject for him. I try not to push the topic any further.

"Let's swear to let the past go and pretend none of this ever happened," Ali gasps, still trying to catch her breath and calm her nerves. "Nobody will be looking for us now. We don't have to worry about someone trying to kill us. Let's just let it go and move on."

"I'm sorry this happened, Ali."

"Let it go, Val. Nothing happened. We're two perfectly normal women starting a life in Tampa. Nothing happened," she says intensely.

"We'll never discuss it, again."

"Damn, I need a cigarette," she says.

"You don't smoke, Ali," I say.

"I do now."

"What the hell, me too," I say. There goes my running habit.

Ali, Greg and I all decide to agree on this compromise. Greg laughs at us and puts a set of blue ear buds in his ears to listen to music. We all have new lives to look forward to in Tampa. The plane takes off and we sit in silence for the entire hour of flight time.

### CHAPTER 18

The Curious Concept of Coming Home

An Epilogue of Sorts

Landing at Tampa International Airport was pretty interesting. As we descend to land, we fly over a massive expanse of water. We can see the beach from our window; the sandy coast stretches out for miles and miles. The ocean drops away into the setting sun right at the horizon.

We don't have much. We have no bags to claim. Everything we own is in our respective backpacks. That even includes Greg's belonging. I don't think he brought anything with him at all. Security had even confiscated his gun before we left the holding tank in Atlanta.

Even though the sun is setting, it's still warm. The air is thick with humidity. Walking through the doors I could taste the saltiness of sweat already on my lips. I could feel my forehead dampen as we embraced our new surroundings.

Greg hails us a shuttle. "Who needs Tampa? Did you see that beach?" Ali asks me. She's tried but she's keeping up her energy. It was probably all of the coffee she drank on the flight from Atlanta to Tampa.

"I did see it. It was difficult trying to see past your big head, though!" I snicker at her expense. Greg smirks along with my comment. She yawns and stretches out across the backseat of the van with her head in my lap.

"Could you get us to the beach, please?" Ali asks the shuttle driver.

"Certainly, which beach?"

"What beach would you recommend for starting a new life?" Greg asks, eyeing us both.

"Clearwater is a wonderful community. It's very open and accepting."

"Clearwater Beach it is," Ali says to the driver as she hands him three hundred dollar bills.

Driving towards the beach there is a wonderful view all around us. I counted at least three cars driving past us with little rainbow stickers. Out and proud. That must be a wonderful feeling. I'm looking forward to getting a chance at being my true self. I'm sure I can say the same thing on behalf of Greg and Ali, too.

Our wonderful chauffeur drops the three of us off at a place he called "Pier 60." It was right down at the end of the main drive. "Stay here until sunset. You'll have a blast," he says as he shuts the door behind us. "Good luck, ladies and sir."

Just as promised, as the sun started to fade from the day, the pier came to life with street performers, families, shop-like kiosks with beautifully handcrafted gifts and umbrellas in every color of the rainbow. The music filled the air with an energetic ambiance.

Ali and I walk hand-in-hand along the beach. Greg pulls out his phone and strolls just outside of our conversation. It sounds like he's having one of his own.

The waves crash to the shoreline gently licking our toes. We sit in the sand and lookout as the sun dwindles away into a fiery orange half circle over the marine waterscape. Every now and then we catch a dose of Greg's conversation with someone named Drew.

"I love you, Ali," I say, holding her hand in my lap.

"I love you, Val," she says back to me, slipping a ring on my left ring finger.

As we sit and hold each other, a radio off in the distance sings, "And I would just die if you ever took your love away."

What a perfect homecoming. What could be any better than this?

I've come to learn a few things on this journey. Not only have I found myself, I have also found my voice. I have also truly found Ali. Life is only so long. Tell the people you love that you love them. It's simple. Forgive the shitty people for the shitty things that they have done to you. It was probably just an act of stupidity or rage and nothing personal.

I will forever be grateful for the air that I breathe, Ali and Greg. I will smile at a stranger in hopes that it will make their day or maybe one day they will save my life, like Greg did. What I wouldn't have done to have seen a stranger casually smile at me. That would have been a wonderful feeling.

I vow to myself to eat a damned candy bar or a piece of pizza if I really want to. I also vow to watch more movies on our new couch—when we find a home—with Ali while holding her as close as I possibly can.

Most of all, I don't want to be angry. I don't want to be scared or anxious or worried. I'm going to release the hate that burdens my heart so that I can let Ali in completely and fully. It won't hurt to have Greg around as a friend. I mean, I think I at least owe him that.

I've learned that only I can choose how I feel. Only I can choose my path. We can't afford to make mistakes anymore. It's time to make life last and make life good. We have learned the hard way that we only live once. Every moment is a fragile one that could make or break how and if we move forward. I choose to keep moving forward with Ali no matter what it takes.

The concept of home is a curious one. There's no real single definition for what home is to anyone. A home could be a house. A home could be with a particular person. It could be an apartment or an RV. It's all relative to the person or people involved in the making of that home. I choose to make Ali my home, no matter where we end up.

Home is not always where you are coming from. Your home does not have to be where you grew up and spent your earliest moments in life. Home can be where you're headed. Home can be a particular goal. The future is completely open with opportunities and possibilities. Everything from here is unwritten.

I am me and nobody can change that.

Here's what matters most to me: we're together. Against all odds, Ali and I have finally made it home.

### END
