I gently shake my head. "No. I'd prefer you didn't. I'm getting away from a bad situation, and the longer it takes for him to realize I'm gone, the better."
"Are you sure?" I can see the sympathy in her eyes, but I don’t want it. I have to get out of here before my face makes the news as a missing person. It’s only a matter of time before my father becomes desperate or someone else alerts people to my sudden disappearance.
"I am. This is all I need." I take the envelope of money and leave. An idea comes to me, and I walk back over to the teller before she can call over the next customer in line and say, “Sorry, Marisa. There is something you can do for me.”
“Yes?” She smiles kindly. It almost makes me cry how nice some people can be when those closest to you couldn’t care less as long as you’re not an inconvenience to them.
“Can you please save this footage? Maybe print out an image of my face?” It’s probably a lot to ask, but if they report my disappearance, my father will look and then try to hide the footage of my black eye. I know it.
“I will,” she says.
“I might need it later. Thank you so much.”
“I have some family and friends in Montana if you’re looking for somewhere to hide out.” She writes down an address, and then slides the paper over to me discreetly. “I won’t tell them who’s coming, but she’s my sister and a sweetheart. Take care.”
Thank you, I mouth. I slide my sunglasses on. I wait until I’m outside to look at the information. Even though it's only twenty degrees out, the sun beams down and is almost blinding and the writing isn’t clear, so I decide to check the note in the car. Walking back toward my vehicle, I see the beauty of Christmas all around. It's a shame that I can't stay. Chicago does have an amazing holiday display.
I enter my vehicle, lock my doors, and put away my money in a secure spot before opening the piece of paper again.
Louisa Morrison 200 S. Maple Rd. Snow Ridge, Montana.
“Montana,” I sigh. Snow. Cold. Those are the first things that register in my brain. Right now I’m in the midst of the same shit, but it’s a whole different breed of winter, and I’m just not a fan of coats and the reason for them: freezing my ass off.
Maybe I’ll make my way that way eventually. I don’t want her hospitality, but if she can help me find a job, I’d appreciate it. I'm extra careful in the parking garage just in case my dad has tracked me. I turned off the GPS in the car last night once I left the school, and now, I leave my phone in the parking garage, so they can look here well after I’m gone.
Jumping on the fifty-five, I take it to the eighty and drive out west. From the footage of the garage, it’s clear that I’m alone and left of my own free will, which isn’t illegal, and my father can do nothing about it without being asked a dozen probing questions.
It’s just after the morning rush hour, and since I’m heading out of the city I make great time, even with the icy roads. I stay on the eighty until I'm halfway through Iowa when I need to rest and fill up on gas again.
I do my best to stay out of the view of the cameras, ducking my head and keeping my hood and scarf wrapped tight, grateful I was smart enough to change them and use some generic ones I bought at the Seven-Eleven. I pick up some extra snacks for meals since I don’t want to be in restaurants and get spotted by anyone if any news reports are being televised.
The worst part about ducking around is using the small gas station restrooms that have seen better days, but I'm going to find a room when I get out far enough.
I've zigzagged through the state before heading toward Nebraska. I drop farther south and enjoy a couple nights on the road in the warmth. It feels good to be cozy when I sleep at a rest stop. Thankfully, it’s fully lit, but I can’t stay hidden here for long. Besides the fact that it’s insanely dangerous to be traveling alone in the middle of nowhere.
It's not the end of my trip because I'm headed north again. Three days of travel and I'm exhausted. I haven't heard anything on the news about my disappearance or sightings, which is incredibly good, but I’m afraid it’s not going to last. I bought a disposable phone for an emergency, but I have no intention of turning it on unless it's absolutely necessary.