Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 35602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I board and pick a seat. The train is packed but I keep to myself, anyway. Even though I have nothing anyone could steal, I’m too worried to fall asleep on the train. My heart is pounding. The man sitting across from me is staring.
This isn’t something I’m used to. I’m never out in public alone. But I know I have to get used to it. It's too dangerous to seek my family or anyone from my past life. It could mean signing their death sentence along with mine. I need to stay under the radar. Go somewhere no one knows me.
The ride takes hours. The man across stares at me lewdly while I get off with my meager possessions. Now I’m standing in a new city, a place I don’t know. I have nowhere to go and no money. I’m scared.
There’s a small, run-down building right across from the train tracks. I set my sights on it, thinking it’s a motel where I could beg for a room in exchange for some work. I’ll do anything, I’m a fast learner.
As I walk toward the house, I force myself to keep my mind busy. Anything to not think of my past life. Not because I’m scared, but because I’m homesick. I allow myself a thought of the dogs and my godfather. I hurt him so much. I never should have done what I did. My parents should not have made me pay for their debts.
I reach the trodden down building and pale when I see the crooked sign on it.
The Juarez Women’s Shelter.
I don’t know if it was fate that led me here, but I know I have to go inside. I buzz the doorbell and someone answers - a woman.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hi,” I whisper, not knowing what to see.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Anyone following you?”
Surreptitiously, I look over my shoulder. I don’t see anyone, but I know that doesn’t mean I’m safe. But I’ll be safer in there than on the streets.
“I don’t think so,” I manage. “But it’s not impossible. There are… people after me. Can I come in?”
The pause that follows is too long, but finally the buzzer lets me through. The door opens with a creak and I walk into a dusty office. I realize the front door is glass, but it’s so shattered and dirty I thought it was wood.
The woman who answered is sitting at a reception desk, glaring at me.
“We have weapons,” she tells me in an accented voice. “Who did they send you for, Ivy?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m alone. I’m… hiding from someone.”
“Husband?”
My head snaps up with attention and my heart breaks again. I think of the boy and guilt wrenches my stomach. I wish I could have helped him, taken him with me.
“My… the man I was supposed to marry,” I finally stutter. “My godfather.”
“Okay.” The woman pulls her hands from under a counter and places a gun on the desk. “Can you shoot?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Good,” she grins. “We need someone who can think fast and shoot to kill. Welcome to Juarez.”
A few hours later, I’m sitting in the room the woman, Dorothea, showed me to. It’s basic but nice, and there’s a bouquet of blooming poppies on the nightstand. I always thought they were beautiful.
Now that I’m settled in, my mind is wandering. But I can’t allow it to go to all those dangerous places. The moment I think about Xavier, I’ll break down. I’ll have to admit what I did to myself.
But even now, the overwhelming feeling of freedom is exciting.
I’ve never lived like this before. Yes, I was privileged my whole life, but it also meant protection at all times, and isolation more often than not. I spent most of my childhood with my parents and sister, plus the many guards who watched over us to ensure our safety.
There’s a knock on my door, and I walk over to greet Dorothea.
“We’ll be having dinner now,” she says with a smile. “Come join us. You can eat free tonight, but tomorrow we’ll find you a job.”
I smile tentatively and follow her down the hallway into a cafeteria. There are about twenty women in the room and some children, maybe five. Some of the girls are older, but the majority are my age.
“Where would you like to sit?” Dorothea asks.
My eyes scan the room. A lot of the women are sitting together, but there’s one who sits by herself. She looks disheveled but beautiful and she has very long, perfectly polished nails.
“Can I sit with her? What’s her name?” I nod toward the pretty, ghost-like figure.
“You can try,” Dorothea grins, clearly amused. She walks me up to the table and sits me down in front of the girl. Up close, I realize she must be a little older than me. Her ethereal beauty takes my breath away, but she’s also painfully thin. “Ivy, this is Lola.”