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**** Alyssa **** As I approach the bridge, I release my seatbelt and plant my foot again, aiming for the railing two-thirds of the way across the bridge. Just as the car is about to crash through the barrier, I shove the door wide open and leap, rolling further from the vehicle as I painfully hit the hard ground. Hearing the crunch as the car collides with the metal, I flip over and watch as the car does exactly as I hoped. The inertia pushed it through the old railing and off the side of the bridge. It plummets to the river below, ending in a loud splash. I pull my bruised, scrapped, and aching self up and push on; if they see me, the whole trick is over. I need them to think I lost control of the car and went down with it or deliberately chose to crash and go over. Either way, I want them to think I'm gone. I need them to think I'm gone. After my last escape attempt, I told him I'd rather die than continue living with him. That conversation replayed in my mind many times over, and
**** Alyssa **** “Are you alright, love? Do you need some help? Do you need me to call someone?” I can’t imagine what the clerk here must think. I am covered in scratches, bruises, grazes, and mud, there are even twigs and other debris in my hair. “Oh, umm. I’m fine, thank you,” I smile what I hope is an innocent smile. She bags my hair dye, scissors, ugly ball cap, and sunglasses. I even found colored contact lenses. Add duct tape and a shovel, I’d look like I was planning a revenge killing. “You’re running away?” “Fancy dress party,” I reply lamely with another half-ass smile. Even I don’t believe me. “There’s a shelter on 29th street. They’ll help you get on your feet,” the clerk replies. I’m dumbfounded for a moment as I haven’t considered a shelter. After gaping like a goldfish out of water for a moment, she adds, “They won’t make you go home. You’ll be safe.” “Thank you! You don’t know how much that means to me.” She gives me a warm smile. I thought people would jud
**** Alyssa **** It is the next morning, and in my barely awakened and drowsy state, it takes me a few moments to register where I am. This bed is comfortable enough, but my bed in Enzi’s pack was super comfortable. Well, it was physically comfortable anyway, a cloud of perfectness with soft, luxurious bedding. The problem was the man and his mission to break me. He nearly succeeded until I remembered I’m way too stubborn for that. I make my bed, dress in my new outfit, find something for breakfast, and try to figure out what to do with my life. I want to do something that helps people, maybe work in a school, become a counselor, maybe be a lawyer or a doctor is my calling. I can’t get a job without ID, and I can’t go to school without ID. That’s my first problem. Could I find a good printer somewhere and print myself a birth certificate? That sounded like a good way to end up in jail for identity theft. What kind of jobs hire people with no ID and no experience? Criminals. Striper
3 years later…. ****Alyssa**** “Hey beautiful, I was thinking we should get a hotel room tonight?” my friend Nathan says, interrupting my train of thought. Nathan is a bartender here as well as Luke’s assistant manager. I’m getting a few last-minute things done while I wait for our friends to arrive. “Really?” I say, feigning a frown. “We’re not going to be out that late.” I continue wiping down the bar, assuming a disinterested air. Nathan is quite possibly the sweetest person I ever met; actually, he always reminded me of my friend Jay from back home. It always makes my heart hurt thinking of the friends I left behind. Nathan and Jay are the kind of people you instantly know you’ll be friends with forever. Still, I can’t resist teasing Nathan a little. “Oh, hun, you told me you didn’t have a party for your 18th, or for your 21st, and last year for your 23rd birthday, we went out to dinner. Dinner!? How dull!” “It was a lovely dinner,” I sing, now stacking glasses behind the ba
**** Alyssa **** When the Uber pulls up in front of the club, I’m surprised to see the line of about a dozen people and more surprised when Emily confidently walks right past it. Leaning up on her tippy toes, she grabs the bouncer’s tie, pulling his ear to her mouth. Whatever she says, does the trick as he smiles, unclips the obnoxious red velvet rope, and waves us through the doors behind him. I’m not sure I want to know what the spicy little vampire just promised him. Clubs aren’t really my thing. They are loud and full of sweaty, handsy people. I don’t mind a bit of dancing, and I’d probably enjoy it if it weren’t for the headache-producing strobe lights, men that think it’s ok to randomly grab and grind on me, or the deafening way they play music. I follow my friends, feeling more anxious with each step. There are some seats and a few stools at the bar, but mostly it’s standing room around small tables or just randomly anywhere in the packed open room. Where will we put our
**** Beta Jayvon **** It's almost midnight, and I'm trying to convince my drunk Alpha buddy to go to bed. He doesn't let himself get this drunk often. Usually, he insists on perfect self-control. That self-discipline is the one thing his father never had and the one thing Enzi has always tried to maintain to prove to himself that he'll never be like the old Alpha. Not that the way he went about it was always perfect. Today is her 21st birthday. It's also the anniversary of when she left him. Technically, she left the day before her birthday, but it's this day each year that he's always a wreck. If she'd stayed just one more day, Enzi would have explained everything. If she'd stayed just one more day, the mate bond would have snapped in for her. Not that Enzi wanted to rely on the bond, but he hoped it would encourage her to give him a chance, encourage her to listen. He wanted her to love him for him. To understand that the choices he made were for her protection. But she left just
**** Alyssa **** “One of the best things about being an adult is that no one can tell you cake isn’t a breakfast food,” Nathan says, laying a fabulous cream-covered, fruit-topped creation crowned with sparklers and a handful of tall skinny gold candles on the table in front of me, the sweet fruity scent tickling my sleepy senses. I’ve been up a whole four minutes, thanks to my friends bouncing on my bed and loudly serenading me with Happy Birthday. “My birthday was yesterday,” I yawn for the second time this morning. I might not be physically capable of showing it yet, but I truly appreciated this sweet gesture. “Nope. Since Emily here hasn’t slept yet, it’s still your birthday. That’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it. Now, blow out those candles and make a wish,” Dara demands. “Oh, no! I gave up on wishes a long time ago. This is truly amazing, though, thanks everyone,” I smile, rubbing the last crystal bits of sleep from my eyes. “Well, aren’t we surly in the morning? You’re
**** Beta Jayvon **** Her apartment is located in a cheap neighborhood with dirty, dangerous streets. Enzi would die if he knew this was where his treasured princess was living. I pick the lock, a skill I learned a couple of years ago when I realized that she taught herself how to pick locks in order to escape us. I was surprised at how easy it was to open an allegedly locked door. The wolf hearing helped. I click the door closed behind me and take a minute to survey the apartment from the door, knowing I'd need to make sure I leave everything exactly as I found it. Pulling out my iPhone, I take a few shots of her apartment from every angle from my spot at the door for later reference. She's neat, neater than I was at 21, that's for damn sure. Not crazy neat like an OCD maniac, it's more like she's a minimalist. Then it clicks. Perhaps she's a minimalist by necessity. There's not a lot here that's deeply personal. Some photos I see as I start to wander around her living room area.