By Saturday afternoon, my house looked like a skeleton of its former self. I left the walls bare and the cupboards empty. I even took the lightbulbs I had purchased myself.
I ignored twenty-three calls from my mother while I loaded the van. Trish sent a text asking if the closet was ready for her shoes. I felt a surge of exhilaration as I blocked her.
The last box was loaded at 3:00 AM under a heavy Seattle mist. I handed the keys back to Mr. Rodriguez. He promised the locks would be changed before the sun came up.
As I drove toward my new life, I felt a strange mix of terror and freedom. I had changed my number and erased my digital trail. I was finally out of their reach.
Then I saw a familiar black SUV three blocks from my new building. My heart stopped as the vehicle slowed down. They weren’t just looking for me; they were hunting me.
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