Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

KIERRA

" G et back here, bitch," the man with the gun yells at me as I dodge him, and run from alleyway to alleyway, desperately trying to get away from him. My lungs burn, tears sting my eyes as I do the only thing I know how to.

Run.

There is nothing else to do. A twenty-one-year-old woman up against a man with a gun, I will never win. I'm not armed. So unless I'm going to kill him with my backpack filled with clothing and my pathetic little pocket knife, I have to get away.

I hid in Atlanta for three months. Then I went to Los Angeles, Bismarck, Boston, and Detroit. The list is endless. Now I'm leaving Roanoke, Virginia. I've been running since I was eighteen and there's no end in sight because everywhere I go, they find me. If I can ever stay in one place long enough to get a job and save money, I'll move to Canada. Or England. Anywhere that's not here.

I try to act casual as I walk into the Greyhound bus terminal. After fixing my Seahawks hat, lowering the brim, I walk up to the window to buy my one-way ticket out of here.

"Can I help you?" the ticket lady asks and I take a deep breath, "Yes. I need a one-way ticket to Las Vegas. The earliest departure, please."

Her fingers fly across the keyboard. Without glancing away from the screen, she nods, "I've got one leaving in nine minutes, so you'll have to hurry. It'll be eighty-four dollars and ninety-six cents plus the three ninety-nine service fee."

I pull out the cash and slide it through the small opening. "Thank you. What's the travel time?"

Taking the money, she smiles softly, "Sixty-five hours and forty minutes."

She slides the ticket to me, "Bus number twelve, but you better hurry."

I nod my thanks and run through the long building until I get to where the buses are parked and run out just as the bus closes the doors. I yell, "Please!" Running as fast as I can, I bang on the window, "Please. Let me on!"

He opens the door with an annoyed expression. "Thank you," I say, out of breath and my heart pounding so hard my chest hurts.

"Luggage?"

Shaking my head, I admit, "Nope. Just this."

I motion to my backpack as I hand over my ticket to the man that looks at me like I'm the single reason for every wrong part of his life.

I take a seat and breathe for what feels like the first time since they once again spotted me. I know I won't be in Nevada for long because they will find me again. The servers make a lot of money in the casinos. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a job to get the cash I need to get the hell out of this country.