I dart one last glance over my shoulder, making sure everyone is still sleeping before I slip out the door and ease it shut.
The only light comes from the yellowed night-light plugged into the wall outside the bathroom at the other end of the hallway. I tiptoe toward it, leaving the girls’ dorm room behind. Passing by the only other door, I pause for a moment, listening to make sure there are no sounds from inside. Then I rush ahead and duck into the bathroom.
I don’t turn on the light, familiar enough with the layout after spending the past five years of my life in this hellhole. Despite the pitch dark, I know there are three bathroom stalls to my left, a counter with three sinks on my right, and along the back wall six narrow lockers with a shower on either side. That’s where I’m heading.
There’s no one here—yet. I pick the shower stall on the left and duck behind the narrow privacy wall, just in case someone I’m not expecting walks in.
I feel, rather than hear, someone come in a few minutes later. Nothing more than a slight movement of air as the door to the hallway opens. I hold my breath and wait for the sound of a stall door opening, but it doesn’t come. The only warning I get is a slight rustle of clothing a fraction of a second before a familiar voice sounds only inches away.
“Raj?”
I release the air I’d been holding before answering.
“Right here.”
Despite the darkness, our hands meet, grabbing on tightly.
“Are you ready?”
The million-dollar question.
I’m so torn about this. Who is going to look out for the others when I’m gone?
The plan is to make our way to Lexington and seek help there, since we know we won’t get any here in Lanark. But what if no one believes us? Or worse; what if we get caught before we make it? What will happen to the others then?
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I whisper back, shoring up my courage.
“Good.” My hand gets a squeeze. “We should get going before someone comes in here. I taped the latch on the kitchen door so we should be able to get out easily.”
I nod, realizing right away it won’t be visible.
We’re supposed to slip out the back and hide in the dumpster right outside the kitchen door, which is scheduled to be picked up every Thursday morning before seven, about four hours from now.
“Now or never,” I confirm, feeling a little tug on my hand.
I follow closely, holding on tight as we make our way out of the bathroom and sneak toward the stairs. We both know to avoid the third step down because it creaks, but still wait for a moment at the bottom of the stairs to make sure nothing is moving in the house.
The tile floor of the kitchen is cold under my bare feet. We agreed to leave everything behind, including our shoes. We didn’t want to risk dropping or banging something and someone hearing. So bare feet and hands-free it is.
As we inch toward the back door my heart is pounding so hard, it makes my chest hurt. So close now.
When we stop, I hear a soft, “Shit.”
“What?” I whisper back.
“The door is lock—”
Suddenly the bright overhead lights come on and a voice has my blood freeze in my veins.
“Did you really think we’d let you just walk out of here?”
I didn’t resist.
I hadn’t resisted since he dragged me out of the house and threatened to make life hell for the girls if I didn’t comply. Sacrificing myself was the only way I could think of to look after them.
The fire I had in my heart died a long time ago, and all I’d done since was exist. From one breath to the next, from meal to meal, the only highlight was the drugs that allowed me to disappear.
It may have been weeks or months or years, but when the car stopped in front of Transition House, it sparked a flame that boiled my blood.
I’d been too late for the girls—they were gone, and all I could do was hope they’d be okay—but I could still save myself, and make sure what happened to us can’t happen to others.
I startle awake when the curtain around my bed is pushed back, and a nurse walks up to my bed.
“Good morning, soldier. I’m afraid we’ll have to change those dressings again today.”
I have to shake my head to clear the remnants of those years’ old memories. They’ve been haunting my dreams since I woke up in the military hospital in Germany with no recollection of how I got there.
Perhaps this was my wake-up call.
My second chance to make good on a promise I made almost a decade ago.