It's been two days since I ran away from home.
Two days since the incident.
Two days since I've slept—because the moment I close my eyes, I see his hollow ones staring back at me.
I don't let myself think about it.
---
I wander through the streets of Miami, my steps unsteady, my body weak. Hunger twists inside me, sharp and unbearable. I need something to eat.
That's when I see it—a sandwich stall.
Bread.
My eyes fix on it. My hands tremble as I step closer. For a moment, I hesitate.
But the past few days have taught me something cruel—survival matters more than my moral compass. If I want to live, I don't get to choose what's right. I choose what keeps me alive.
I reach out—
And freeze.
My eyes land on a newspaper lying beside the stall.
My face stares back at me.
WANTED.
My breath catches in my throat.
---
"Oh God…"
I pull my hand back instantly, my heart pounding violently.
They're looking for me.
"They'll find me… they'll hang me…"
The words echo in my head.
Because I know what I did.
And I know there's no escaping it.
---
"Mamma…" my voice breaks softly. "I miss you…"
For a moment, everything feels heavier—the fear, the guilt, the loneliness.
But I don't have time to fall apart.
Not here.
Not now.
---
The streets don't feel safe anymore.
Every face looks like a threat. Every shadow feels like it's watching me.
I need to get away from this place.
The roads won't protect me.
The port might.
---
I keep my head down, pulling my hood lower. I can't move in daylight—anyone could recognize me. So I hide, slipping into alleys and corners where no one looks twice.
Hours pass painfully slow.
Until finally—
Night falls.
---
It's 2 a.m. when I move.
The streets are quieter now, but my fear hasn't faded.
I spot a cycle left unattended and don't think twice—I take it.
My legs ache as I ride toward PortMiami, the cold air cutting against my skin. Fear pushes me forward faster than strength ever could.
---
The port isn't silent.
Cargo is being loaded. Workers move around under dim lights. Ships stand like giants in the dark.
My eyes scan the area—
And then I see them.
Two police officers.
My heart drops.
---
"Shit…"
I quickly duck behind a nearby van, trying to steady my breathing.
One of them starts walking in my direction.
---
I don't have time.
---
My eyes search frantically.
Then I see it.
A ship.
Old. Rusted. But steady enough.
It doesn't matter where it's going.
I just need to get away.
---
I move quickly, keeping low, slipping between shadows. Every step feels loud, but no one stops me.
I climb aboard, my hands shaking as I pull myself up.
The ship smells of salt, metal, and something unfamiliar.
I don't question it.
---
I just hide.
---
I find a narrow space between two large barrels.
Dark.
Tight.
Unnoticeable.
Perfect.
---
I squeeze myself in, pulling my knees close to my chest. My breathing slowly steadies, but my heart still races.
Time passes.
I don't know how long.
Exhaustion finally takes over.
---
I don't remember falling asleep.
Only that suddenly—
I'm awake.
---
A sharp voice cuts through the darkness.
"YOU ARE NOT A CARGO."
---
A harsh beam of light hits my face.
I flinch instantly, throwing my hand over my eyes. The brightness burns after hours in the dark, making it impossible to see anything beyond it.
My heart starts racing.
I try to focus, but all I can make out is a silhouette—tall, unmoving, hidden behind the torchlight.
For a second, I can't breathe.
They found me.
---
"Step out," the voice says again, calmer this time. Controlled.
Not angry.
Worse.
Certain.
---
I hesitate.
My body feels stiff, my mind still catching up with reality. Every instinct screams at me to run—but there's nowhere to go.
Slowly, I shift, the cramped space between the barrels resisting me as I try to move.
The light follows me.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
I step out into the open, shielding my eyes.
"I—I wasn't stealing anything…" my voice comes out weaker than I expect.
Silence.
Then a quiet, almost amused exhale.
---
"Clearly," the man says. "Because you chose the wrong ship."
---
The light lowers slightly.
And for the first time—
I realize this might be far worse than getting caught by the police.