The Escape
745 Words
ALISA'S POV
I ran. I ran for my life.
It was almost 9:00 AM. I hadn't slept a wink—I couldn't. The big, scary guard had come to drop off my breakfast earlier. I’d asked for the time, and he was actually nice enough to answer. I didn't touch the food, though.
After he left, the apartment went quiet. I peeked out the window. Two men were still on security duty outside. I had to think fast. The window wasn’t too small to squeeze through, and the building wasn’t that high—just one story with thick bushes lined up below.
I had to jump. But first, I needed a distraction.
My hands shook as I looked around. There was a glass plate and a mirror. I moved to the door and engaged the chain lock on my side; it would give me a few extra seconds. Then, I took a deep breath and smashed the plate against the floor. I didn't stop there—I shattered the mirror next.
"HELP! HELP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I watched from the corner of the window as the two guards sprinted into the building. That was my cue. I scrambled through the frame and jumped.
I landed in the shrubs with a heavy thud. Thorns tore at my skin, and I could feel warm liquid trickling down my neck and legs. Blood. I didn't care. I looked both ways and bolted.
I didn't look back. I was too terrified. I didn't know exactly where I was, but I knew I couldn't be far from help. I used a piece of cloth I’d grabbed from the room to cover my face. After running for about fifteen minutes, I started to hope they weren't behind me. I ducked into the busy streets, trying to blend in with the crowd.
Then I saw it: a signpost for Miller’s Train Station. I recognized it—I’d delivered flowers here once. Relief washed over me. It was a long way from my neighborhood, but I started the journey anyway.
I looked like a mess. I was beaten up, scratched, and probably looked mentally unstable. I had a little cash in my shoe, but I knew no one would offer me a ride looking like this.
Well I won't.
It took nearly two hours of walking and hiding before I finally reached my friend's apartment.
I rang the doorbell. Again. And again. I was on the verge of tears. Just as I was about to give up, the door swung open.
"Mabel," I gasped.
"Alisa?! What the f**k happened! Come in!" she cried, practically dragging me into her home.
Mabel was my best friend and my favorite and only shoulder to cry on. She was a nurse at the government hospital, and the second she saw me, her professional instincts kicked in.
"Oh my goodness, who did this to you?" she asked, sitting me down on her couch. It was so soft, way softer than mine, and I felt myself starting to crumble.
"I... I don't even know where to begin," I said, the sobs finally breaking through.
"Girl, we have to take you to the hospital," she said, jumping up. "Where the f**k are my car keys?"
I sat there sobbing while she scrambled around the apartment. Suddenly, she stopped.
"Alisa!!!"
She screamed my name and ran back into the living room, almost tripping on the stairs. she was holding her phone like it was the only thing keeping her on earth.
"What? What happened?" I asked, wiping my eyes.
"Have you seen the news?" she whispered, handing me the phone.
I stared at the screen. The title was bold and disgusting: TRISTAN GERALDINE ASSASSINATED: TYCOON CADEN CAUGHT IN TRYST AT CRIME SCENE.
"Who is that?" I asked, looking at Mabel.
"That's you, Lisa! Who the f**k is Caden? And Tristan is dead?"
My hands started trembling again. I looked at the photos—the one of us kissing, the one of him dragging me to his car.
"It’s... it’s not what it looks like," I whispered to myself. "I don't know him, Mabel. He... he was with my brother. Max. Max did it. He killed Tristan."
I scrolled down. Secret Slut. Caden's w***e. The words burned my eyes. How? Why?
Mabel sat next to me and rubbed my back, her face pale. "I think going to the hospital isn't the best option right now," she whispered.
- Writer
