Marked

I was ready. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator. My fingers squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. It was over. I would never go back to him. Never. “That's it,” I ordered myself. I glanced in the rearview mirror again, half expecting to see the taillights of John's cherry red convertible following me. There was still a part of me that half wished he was. Embarrassment and shame had been with me forever. It was just me and my old 4Runner on some unknown road. I had bought it as part of a deal to replace the sleek black Mercedes Jhon had given me. He had bought me so many things that eventually I felt like my entire existence was bought. The diamond earrings in the cup holder? Anniversary gift. A Chanel handbag? Birthday gift. Even the French manicure and my overpriced blonde hair were on his credit card. Which reminded me that I needed gas soon. Panic pecked at my chest. My fingers tapped the steering wheel. I was too low on supplies and too close to the Canadian border. I needed to stock up before crossing. I found a Texaco at the next exit, but the only option I had beyond that was a huge Walmart two miles away. However, that was good. Jhon knew I preferred Target. If he was chasing me, he probably wouldn't look for me here. Still, I parked near the exit, close enough to get back to my truck quickly if necessary. Surprisingly, it was pretty crowded inside for eight o'clock at night in Washington state. Normal people buying normal looking things. It wasn't hard to go unnoticed in the crowd, but even without the split lip and black eye, I would have stood out like a reddened, spray tanned thumb. I pulled my hood up and kept my head down as I tossed new clothes into my cart: practical leggings and some long”sleeved T”shirts. Sweatshirt. Waterproof jacket. I grabbed the cheapest underwear I could find, comfy cottons and some plain flesh”colored bras. It was liberating to let go of the lace. Jhon always liked lace. My mind kept wandering back to him too much today. Toward the sweet memories that went down like a smooth whiskey instead of the ones that choked my throat. He said he liked it rough, but too many nights had left me with bruises on my neck to feel the same. As I passed a mirror in an empty corner of the ladies' section, I forced myself to look at the black and blue map he'd left on my face. The wound on my cheek, red and swollen, would probably take longer to heal. I turned away and quickly went in search of hair dye. Dozens of options stretched out before me, but I had to think about which one wouldn't turn out as orange as my butt. So I opted for my natural color, a dark brown, almost black, that I had inherited from my mother. The self”service checkout counter was so crowded that I thought about leaving my cart and running out. I couldn't risk anyone seeing my face. I was already afraid of the footprint I was leaving. Terrified that the bills I had taken from Jhon's wallet at three in the morning wouldn't take me all the way to Canada. I couldn't let him find me, but I also couldn't stand that I was still wearing clothes he had bought me. Every inch of my body felt like a transaction happening three states away. So I waited in line and ignored the worried cashier trying to get my attention. Fifteen anxiety”filled minutes and $143.87 later, I was back on the road, debating with myself whether I should find a rest stop for the night or just keep driving until I couldn't anymore. I had left Malibu sixteen hours ago and technically hadn't slept in two days, but I refused to even entertain the idea of sleeping until I reached Canada. I had stolen Jhon's passport before I left and tossed it, along with my pink iPhone, into the Pacific Ocean on my way to the city. By the time I reached the border, I knew I couldn't get much further. I could feel how red my eyes were getting with every blink. The border services agent glanced at my passport and asked me to remove my hood. His expression went from suspicious to alarmed in half a second. “Ma'am, are you all right,” he said, handing me back my passport. “I'm fine, thank you. “You're not in any kind of trouble, are you? “No, sir. Not at all. I smiled and felt the wound on my lip open up a little. “Is there a rest stop near here? “Yes, ma'am. One a few miles from here and another one about thirty minutes down the road. “Thank you. He nodded. “Take care out there, ma'am. I walked away from the cabin, wondering if I should have taken John's passport with me. The Pacific was deep, but not that deep. The water in the bathroom at the rest stop thirty minutes out of Canada was warm, at least. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw. It took me two days of driving up the coast of Canada. Two days of junk food bought at gas stations with Canadian money that a kind man in a town called Quesnel traded me for a couple of hundred US dollar bills. I had no idea if he had ripped me off, but I didn't care about the exchange rate, because I was here. In Canada. And I was hungry as f***. I'd had too much time to think about the journey here. My mind had dived into the things that had happened to get me here, and it was all my fault. God, I'd screwed up. I should never have talked to him. I should never have dug myself in so deep. I should never have sacrificed my life for him. I should never have taken so long to get out. I felt tears on my face again. My body wasn't going to forget that last beating for a long time. And I didn't want it to. The pain reminded me of that last dreadful night. He chased me into the guest bathroom of our condo, and our maid, Eloise, found me on the floor hours later. I needed to remember what she had said, the way she had rushed me out of the house, so I could keep my foot on the gas.

“I don't want to find your body,” he had told me. “I know,” I whispered now to myself, letting his words echo in my head. I mashed the gas pedal to the floor of the car. Eloise was how I escaped. Eloise knew this day would come. Wise beyond her years, she cleaned me out that day and dragged me to her cousin's used car dealership, where we traded my shiny silver Mercedes for the 4Runner. She helped me pack my things quickly and then handed me a key before I ran out the door. The key was for a cabin her brother had in the middle of the mountains. He said he only went there during the summer, he liked to fish for salmon. Fortunately for me, it was the off”season. Fall had begun, which meant I could be alone in the woods, where I could have a proper breakdown and let my bruises heal before figuring out what I was going to do with myself. John wouldn't be suspicious. He never got to know Eloise. She neve