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42. Muffins .42

Day 27 - Monday

It was four in the morning, and you couldn't sleep.

All you could do was think.

What now?

Would you just drive aimlessly when you left, or maybe...

You had a car that Andy wouldn't be able to track,

You had an exuberant amount of (stolen) money to sustain you,

You could really get out of here... far away... maybe to another country? An island?

Were you an idiot to hope that something permanent would come out of this escape?

Yes, you most certainly were.

You always did this, after all.

You always got high on the freedom that escape brought you, felt like you could do anything, go anywhere... only to come crashing to the ground in the most devastating kind of low when Andy found you once again.

All the same, you couldn't help but continue to hope.

Hope was a drug, pumping into your veins and temporarily bringing you back to life.
You could feel the adrenaline humming under your skin, and even running on little to no sleep, you still felt like you could do anything. You could be free.

All you needed to do was reach far enough, grasp hard enough,

And no matter what the cost...

Refuse to let go.

___

You arrived in the lobby at around eight in the morning.

"Good morning, Dearie! I'll admit that I'm awful surprised to see ya' still here; thought ya'd be on the road by now."

"I wanted to say my goodbyes... since you've been so accommodating." You managed a small smile as you faced the motel owner, who you had learned the night before was named Janette. "I'll be leaving now." You scooped up your backpack and made to leave.

Hopefully, you could make good time on your drive if yo--

"Now, now, I will not be lettin' ya' leave on an empty stomach!" You froze and glanced behind you. Janette put her hands on her hips, fixing you with a stern look. "Just you wait right here, Dearie, I'll be gettin' ya' some freshly baked muffins to have with ya' on your trip."

You watched as the elderly woman scuttled off into the kitchen, a strange feeling welling up in your chest. Gratitude? Appreciation? Affection? You couldn't tell.

Maybe it was guilt since you knew that by owning Andy's car, this woman would soon be in danger.

But you needn't dwell on it, since Janette was already speeding back into the room with a paper sack in her hands.

She handed them over with an oddly motherly smile. "Now, there should be about five or six of 'em in there, so don't ya' worry about 'em bein' gone too quickly. Ya' just make sure that ya' eat ya' fill, alright?"

You nodded, touched.

"Good, good." Janette began to usher you out the door. "Ya' get on ya' way now, Dearie. Ya' be sure ta' find somewhere ta' stay before dark!"

"I will do my best." You pulled Janette's (your?) keys out of the backpack and made your way to the old pick-up truck in the parking lot. You could hear her footsteps behind you.

The door creaked as you got into the car, almost as if it would fall off its hinges at any moment. Janette held the door to keep it from shutting, leaning in and speaking to you in a cracked whisper. "And whatever... or whoever it is ya' running from Dearie, I wish ya' the best of luck."

You flinched, pulling back to stare at her.

Janette's smiled at you sadly, her calloused hand reaching out to tenderly pat you on the cheek. It was... nice. "Ya sure've been through a lot, Dearie. I can see it right on ya' face... but ya' also have gotta be strong ta' have made it this far. Keep fightin' 'till the very end, ya' hear?" Her voice was still quiet but now had a much gentler, softer quality to it, as if she was comforting a cornered animal.

And honestly? You felt like a cornered animal. A cautious, beaten, abused animal that was barely standing on its trembling legs.

You met Janette's eyes and wordlessly nodded your head.

You felt it then.

The subtle warmth,

radiating from within the paper bag.

They really were freshly baked, huh?

Keep fighting until the very end.

Maybe... escape was truly within reach.

You could, no, would do it this time.

You would keep fighting.

...until the very end.