Chapter 3

Moira

Like a thief in the night, I sneak out of the clubhouse, a backpack full of clothes, my wallet, and some pictures strapped to my back. I know I must get as far away as I can. I have to disappear.

* * *

"Miraculous?" I shake my head no and cup my mouth to hide my giddiness. "What? That's not the most preposterous one I've come up with, M," Selah, my new friend, asks me.

When she found me and realized I didn't talk, she took me under her wings. She's always talking to me and thankfully, at least right now, she doesn't expect an answer. I've heard about her three daughters, about the fact that those bastards have her youngest, and that she's looking for them.

I shake my head again, but don't utter a sound.

"Maleficent, like the witch?" My eyes must reflect my amusement because she giggles. "Okay, you're not a witch, got it. Hmm." She taps the tip of her finger to her mouth and tries again. "MudPie, Mumpkin, Moogle? Minnie, Mickey, Millennia?" When I shake my head with my shoulders jerking up and down, she sighs. "I'm beginning to think you're playing me, and your name doesn't start with an M after all."

I nod my head yes, indicating it truly does start with that letter.

"I give up. I suck at this. Let's bunker down for the night and tomorrow, we'll see if we can find a ride. It's time to get out of this town, we've been here too long. Neither of us wants to be found by the ones looking for us."

I agree with her and grab her hand, holding it tightly. She leads me to our little cubby space, we crawl into the space, and unwrap our sleeping bags. We take them with us everywhere we go, because if we don't, it's considered free merchandise and is up for grabs.

"I wish you would talk to me, M. I can't help you, can't protect you, if I don't know what you're running from," Selah whispers

I shake my head no and slip into my makeshift bed, turning my back on her.

She continues speaking, even with me turned in the opposite direction from her. "I know you've been traumatized and treated badly, if anyone can see those signs of abuse, it's me. But I'm heading toward trouble, and we need to get you safe before the danger I'm looking for finds me. These people I'm searching for aren't good, they're evil, and don't treat women with any sort of kindness or respect. I can't let you go there with me. I won't be able to protect you from them."

I don't acknowledge her, I can't. Instead, I silently cry as she lies by my side. I don't know how long I lie there awake, but eventually, I fall into a restless, troubled sleep.

The vibration on the ground and the growly sounds of a motorcycle pulling up in front of the building has both Selah and me bolting upright. I watch as Selah's legs become tangled in the sleeping bag as she tries to get out and on her feet. Crawling out of the alcove on her hands and knees, I watch her make her way to the window and peer down.

"Shit," she hisses between her teeth as she stares out the window. "Dammit."

I tug on her shirt, determined to leave before whoever is outside makes their way to where we've been staying. This place is no longer safe and secure; I grunt in frustration while jerking Selah's shirt sleeve, but her eyes stay affixed on whatever is outside. I have to go. Run. Flee. I quickly gather my things then scurry away, leaving Selah to face the unknown threat on her own.

* * *

Keeping to the shadows, I move as quickly as I can away from the shelter where Selah and I were staying. I don't know where to go so that I can stay safe, and I have little to barter, since Selah typically handled that for us. How will I make others understand what I want? Fear thrums through my body and not for the first time, I question the wisdom of leaving the safety and security of the clubhouse. Because even though I knew I was making so many of them angry, as well as unsettled by my behaviors, I was protected there.

Kracken was there, my mind whispers.

Kracken, who was beyond gentle with me when he brought me back to the Royal Bastards clubhouse. Who showed me a side of himself, softer and kinder, likely something he reserved solely for women, that gave me some hope that someday, maybe, I'd be happy again. While he treated me with care, he didn't act like I was a disgusting piece of trash. It's as if what Alvin and Bert subjected me to was of no consequence. Maybe he was right? I mean, I didn't ask for them to debase me, to rape me, to beat me.

I finally see the old woman that Selah bartered with a few days ago, still wearing the hoodie that Selah gave up for some food so we could eat.

"Ah, it's the mute, where's your friend?" she asks, her craggy, leathered face, splitting into a toothless grin. She still has a few teeth, but what's left is broken, yellowed, and quite a mess. She'd be a dentist's dream… or his nightmare, depending on who she found, that is.

I shrug as if to say, "I don't know."

The only thing I have left of value is my sleeping bag. I'm loathe to lose it, but I'm hungry and thirsty. I could find an ATM and pull out some money, but I suspect my card will tag where I'm at, and I'm not ready to be found. I truly don't know if I'll ever be ready. I wish I could believe what Wrecker said in my head that day, but I have to battle more demons from my past before I get to that point.

Only, I'm afraid. What if I heal all that garbage to find out that I'm not worth finding. That I'm what I've always been told I am—useless, a waste of space.

"Well, I've got a few cans of Vienna sausages, two bottles of water, and a bag of chips. Give them to you for your sleeping bag, missy," the crone says.

I nod and unstrap my sleeping bag from my backpack. When she hands me the items, I give her the bag, then carefully place each of the items inside my backpack. Time to keep moving; I know the crone has eyes and ears everywhere and because I don't talk, it would be easy for someone to ask if she's seen the mute girl.

* * *

Later in the day, still alone and now even more frightened of the shadows that are looming, I find a small corner on the other side of a dumpster and hunker down. The smell is disgusting, but I hope that stench will keep others away from me.

Sleep doesn't come easily. Every noise startles me and I end up deciding to stay awake. Once the light of day begins to show, and I can hear the hustle and bustle start on the streets again, I make my way out of the alley.

Straight into the clutches of Hell.

My last thought as I lose consciousness from being bounced around in the back of a nondescript van is, Kracken, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.