Watching the clock with one eye, she stuffs whatever she can grab into a bag. Clothes, toothbrush, wallet, spare change, everything is thrown in together with none of the order and none of the precision that has ruled her life for the last six months. Has it been six months? Her mind drifts back to that first meeting along the boardwalk, the first date night of drinks and dancing, and that first weekend away where this same green bag had held happier times.
Kisses. Gifts. Bliss.
The romance of it all, how quickly they fell in love. For the first time in her life she had felt like a princess, like all the Disney movies and childhood story books really could come true. As fast as they had met, they moved in together and were married soon after. The surprise picnics and perfect days seemed to go on forever. On and on, until she wore her hair the wrong way. Her fault of course, she knew he didn't like ponytails. Happiness and dancing, dinners out and sitting close at the movies; except that there was dust on the TV stand. She had dusted everything else, but forgot the TV stand getting distracted by the neighbors impromptu visit.
Trembling. Wary. Scared.
The change was so slow, she hardly noticed it at first. You always hear about these girls and wonder how this happens. Apparently, the answer is slow; the answer is gradual. Clothes must be washed and folded, everything cleaned, everything dusted. She must be showered with hair and make up done and all times. Each mistake is a bruise, every opinion a slap. With just a look he can let her know she will surely get it when they get home. Leaving never worked out the way she planned, she could still feel the stiffness in her legs and back from when he locked her in the closet for two days. This time will be different though, this time she can make it...
Determined. Shaking. Hopeful.
She knows she only has thirteen more minutes before he is due to get home, but as the engine turns over she is sure that this time she will make it. Flying down the road she lets the windows down she notices it is colder than normal, but the chill feels good on her flushed skin. Flying around the curves trying to gain as much of a head start as possible, the fog started rolling in. Flipping on her fog lights she presses the gas down harder, not being able to shake the feeling of being followed. Exits fly by as the daylight fades, the distance helping her to breathe a little easier. She stays in the right lane only going five over the limit, she cannot risk being pulled over without the license she was never allowed to have. Cars come and go, passing and exiting and entering. All these normal people with their normal lives, never knowing the terror in her heart.
Finished. Done. Over
It is almost two in the morning now, somewhere in the mountains of Virginia she drives. There has been scattered headlights here and there, but not many cars have been out for the last hour or so. There is one set though that has been blinking in and out of sight behind her. Never to close and never too far, these lights make her skin crawl. She planned to pull over for the night as soon as those lights disappeared, but they never seemed to go away. Deciding to try to take the next exit around a curve to possibly lose those headlights, she speeds up a bit more. The pedal pushes further and further down, but the car makes no move to respond. Instead of increasing in speed, the car is slowing down. Chugging a little, the car quietly dies as she steers to the side of the road. Her breathing all but stops in her closing throat as her broken down car on that foggy Virginia mountain road is flooded with the lights from her husbands car.
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