What the hell are you going to do?
It was the question that buzzed around in my brain, but no answers came.
I ran away.
It was an act of desperation, of sheer need to be away from anything de Loughrey related…away from him. My mind was a whirlwind, and all I knew was that I couldn’t stay. I had to go.
So I did. I withdrew an amount that was pretty much pocket change to him and destroyed the sim card in my phone. I needed space away from him, and I wasn’t going to get it if he knew exactly where I was. To make it harder, I boarded the train and rode into the Bronx.
But after many hours of sitting in some budget motel in a sketchy part of town, the adrenaline long ago having worn off, I began to question my rash plan of action. I couldn’t hide forever, especially not in New York. He wou
