RIDE OR CRY
She drove for three hours before she stopped.
The gas tank was nearly empty, and her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grip the wheel. She pulled into a motel parking lot, the neon sign flickering in the dark, and sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing. She could feel her phone buzzing in her purse—Knox calling, Knox texting, Knox desperate and panicked and probably drunk by now. She didn't look at it. She couldn't look at it.
She got out of the car, checked into a room with cash she'd been saving for an emergency, and walked inside. The room was small and cold, the bed hard, the walls thin. She lay down on the mattress, still wearing her jacket, and stared at the ceiling. She didn't cry. She couldn't cry. She was too empty for tears.
She thought about w
