(Marcus)
Living as a fugitive was not what I had planned for myself. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Victoria. Her face, her laugh, the way she walked into my life and set everything on fire.
The motel walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t stop pacing. My head kept spinning with the same thoughts.
I punched the wall once, just to feel something other than the rage twisting inside me. The sound echoed, but no one came. No one cared. This place was filled with people who had their own problems. That was why I chose it. But I hated it here. I hated hiding.
Every shadow looked like a threat. Every car door slamming outside made me think someone had found me. I stopped sleeping properly. When I did drift off, I woke up in a sweat, hearing footsteps that weren’t really
