“Take care of each other. I’ll be in touch.” I pull away, or try to, but find myself yanked back against his hard chest. I try to hold it together, but I die a little on the inside as I break off the tiny part of my heart that’s still capable of love, leaving it with the only two people in the world who mean anything to me.
Steeling my spine, I pull away and toss my hair over my shoulder, offering Wyatt a reassuring wink before turning and walking away.
I keep my head held high and my emotions locked down tight as I walk through the town that was never really my home, to the bus station near the market district.
With my bag tossed over my shoulder, I climb aboard the quiet Greyhound and make my way to the seat at the back. I slide the bag between my feet and place my forehead against the cold glass as the twilight sky darkens to indigo blue and let the tears fall for the first time since my mother’s funeral.
As the bus pulls away, I say a silent goodbye to the concrete streets of purgatory and prepare myself for the next step. One that brings me closer to the devil and his wicked smile. One step closer toward a new kind of hell.
I doze lightly as the world passes by outside the window. At least this time, I will be off the streets. The money I had saved for Megan wasn’t needed after she received her inheritance, which meant I now had the funds to keep myself afloat for a while. I was used to living frugally and that wouldn’t change. If I was going to survive here, I was going to need money.
I never touched a cent of the money I took from Clyde’s safe. I never went back there at all to avoid temptation. I knew even back then I would need it in the future. I went hungry more nights than I can count, knowing I had a stash of cash I could use anytime I wanted, but a sixth sense always held me back. Now that cash and the gun still buried beside it would be safe in a safe deposit box where I could access it when I needed to.
The money in my bag would be plenty for now. I’ll get a hotel room until I can find a cheap apartment and take it from there.
Gazing outside, I notice the mishmash of old and new buildings morphing into tall skyscrapers and massive, imposing towers of steel and glass reaching up into the dark sky.
I imagine this is what Dorothy felt like when she landed in Oz, small and very alone. I spot a man in threadbare clothes pushing a shopping cart stuffed with empty cans, and I realize the landscape might have changed, but the dirty pavements are still the same.
The lost and forgotten people still fall through the cracks, no matter what the zip code is.
The farther into the city we move, the more gaunt faces and rail-thin bodies I see bundled up in shop doorways and peeking out from cardboard box houses that offer them little protection from the elements.
A man across the aisle and two seats over from me looks at the same scene with disgust written on every line of his face before he tuts and turns away.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I’ve lost count how many times I have seen people react the same way over the years.
But what he finds so distasteful, I find comfort in. How can I not find comradery in these people? Their ailing bodies and damaged minds keep them in some kind of limbo, not quite ready to die but not really living either, as they hide from whatever traumas made this transient life a better option than the one they ran from.
If I had made different choices, I would be sitting there right beside them still, waiting for the restaurants to throw away leftovers so I could battle with the rats for the scraps of food others discarded without thought.
Working for Zodiac means that part of my life is in the past now. The future, however uncertain, will buy me warm food, clean sheets, and hot water. Even if that hot water is used to wash the blood from my skin and the stain from my soul.
Chapter Eight
The hours tick by as the low murmur of voices dim to whispered snores before