The Runaway
719 Words
"No one knows me here."
I tightened my grip around the paper coffee cup until it crumpled beneath my fingers.
"I'm safe."
The words barely escaped my lips.
"I'm safe."
I repeated them again, quieter this time, as if saying them enough would make them true.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery. People hurried down the sidewalks with purpose, laughing, arguing, and living ordinary lives. No one looked at me twice. For the first time in twenty-two years... I was invisible.
A week ago, my name had been Amelia Hart.
Today, I was Isabella Moretti.
A name printed on a fake identification card that had cost every cent I managed to steal before running away. The old woman who sold it to me had smiled knowingly.
"Running from something?"
I had lied.
"No."
She hadn't believed me, neither would anyone else if they saw the bruises that had barely faded beneath my sleeves. I still remembered my mother's voice.
"Smile during the ceremony."
As if I were lucky, lucky to marry a man older than my own father, lucky to become payment for my family's debts, lucky to make everyone else rich. My father hadn't looked guilty when he signed the agreement, and neither had my brothers nor my sisters.
To them, I wasn't their daughter.
Their sister.
I was their property.
The tears threatened again.
"No."
I blinked them away, and crying had never saved me.
Running had.
The bus station behind me grew smaller with every step, I didn't dare look back.
If they found me...
They would drag me home.
And this time, there would be no escaping.
A gust of wind lifted strands of my dark hair across my face. I tucked them behind my ear and looked at the help wanted sign taped to the window of a small café. At that moment I decided that I was staying.
The owner barely glanced at my résumé.
"Can you start today?"
My heart skipped.
"Yes."
"Good. We need someone immediately."
That simple.
No questions.
No suspicion.
Just... yes.
For the first time in my life, someone gave me a chance without asking what I could do for them first. By sunset, my feet ached from running orders, washing dishes, and carrying trays, but I didn't care. The paycheck wasn't much, but I wouldn't complain. The owner took me to the apartment I'd be staying in. It was not far from the café, it was tiny, the wallpaper peeled from the corners, and the shower barely worked.
It was perfect.
It was mine.
That evening, I stood by the little window overlooking the street, clutching the keys to my apartment.
Keys.
Something so ordinary, yet no one had ever handed me a key before. No one had ever trusted me with a place that belonged to me. A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
Then came the knock, three slow knocks, and my smile instantly disappeared. Fear settled into my stomach. Were they here already? No one knows me here
My hands trembled as I approached the door.
Another knock.
I swallowed hard before opening it just enough to peek outside.
The café owner stood there with a warm smile.
"I forgot to give you dinner."
She held out a container of homemade pasta.
"You looked like you hadn't eaten properly in days."
My throat tightened.
No one had ever noticed things like that.
No one except...
No.
There was no one else.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She smiled and walked away.
I closed the door carefully and slid to the floor, the warm container resting in my lap. For the first time in years, someone had shown me kindness without expecting anything in return. A single tear escaped.
Maybe...
Maybe this town really could become home.
Across the street, inside a sleek black SUV, a pair of sharp gray eyes never left the light glowing from the tiny apartment window.
Luca De Santis rarely noticed strangers.
But the frightened girl who smiled like she expected happiness to disappear at any moment...
He couldn't stop looking.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know her story.
He only knew one thing.
Something about her made every instinct inside him whisper the same dangerous promise.
Protect her.
- Writer
