Patience Heart

The Long Road to Freedom

Five years. It's hard to wrap my mind around that number sometimes. Five years since I ran—since I left behind everything I ever knew. Five years since the night I slipped away from Frankfurt, six months pregnant, terrified, and completely unsure of what the future held. Now, here I am in San Francisco, my son, Timothy Julian, laughing as he chases his shadow across the park. Timmy is everything to me—my heart in human form. His curly hair, wild and untamed like his spirit, bounces as he runs. His hazel eyes, always bright with curiosity and wonder, remind me every day why I fought so hard to get us here.

But this life, this small semblance of peace we've found, was never guaranteed. There were so many moments when it all could've come crashing down. None of this would have been possible without Anna and Samil. I owe them everything.

Anna—God, where would I be without her? She's the reason I'm even alive to tell this story. I remember that night so vividly, my hands shaking as I dialed her number, the weight of it all crashing down around me. My family was after me, determined to bring me back to a life I no longer wanted, and Adam—Adam wasn't the man I thought he was. I knew I couldn't do this alone. That's when Anna stepped in. She didn't hesitate, not for a second. Her voice, calm and steady, reassured me that I had options, that I wasn't trapped. And that's when she told me about Samil.

Samil wasn't just some guy with a knack for fixing computers. He was a man with connections—deep, dangerous connections. Anna had met him years ago in Toronto, and though he ran a computer service shop by day, his true talents lay in the shadows of the internet. In the underground world, he was known as "Jom4," a hacker with the ability to make people vanish. It sounded like something out of a movie, but this was real. I was desperate, and Samil was the lifeline I never expected.

When Anna introduced me to Samil, I was a complete wreck. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. It was hard to focus on anything, let alone the seriousness of what I was about to do. Samil, however, remained calm throughout the video call, his face illuminated by the glow of a computer screen in his shop. I could see the shelves in the background filled with old laptops and monitors, but his eyes—his eyes were sharp, calculating. There was something both reassuring and unnerving about the way he looked at me, as if he was already mapping out every step of my escape in his head. He didn't waste time on pleasantries or unnecessary questions.

"You don't need to trust me," he said with a calm, almost detached voice, "but you need to follow everything I say if you want to get out of this."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. In that moment, I realized I had no choice but to trust him with my life, and the life of the baby growing inside me.

Samil explained the plan in detail, introducing me to strangers along the way who would help me through different stages of my journey. Each of them had a specific role, carefully planned by Samil. The first was Lukas, a scruffy, middle-aged truck driver from the Czech Republic who had no idea who I really was, only that I needed a ride out of Frankfurt. Lukas didn't ask questions, and that's exactly what I needed. His truck became my first temporary sanctuary as we crossed the border into the Czech Republic.

From there, I was handed over to a woman named Nadine in Prague. She was a quiet, stern figure with short, jet-black hair and a no-nonsense attitude. She ran a safe house—a rundown apartment that smelled of mildew and old cigarettes. Nadine gave me food, a change of clothes, and instructions to stay hidden for just a few days. Every sound in that apartment felt like a threat, and I barely slept. But Nadine assured me everything was under control. "You're not the first one," she said, her voice flat. I never asked what she meant by that.

The next leg of the journey was the most dangerous. I was introduced to Tomas, a wiry young man with a nervous energy that made me uneasy. He worked at the docks in Rotterdam and had been paid by Samil to sneak me onto a cargo ship bound for Canada. Tomas looked like he hadn't slept in days, constantly glancing over his shoulder. I was just another "package" to him, and he made sure to treat me as such, giving me a small, cramped corner of the ship where I could hide among the crates. I spent the next several days in near darkness, the constant sound of waves crashing against the hull serving as both a comfort and a reminder that I was still far from safety.

During the journey, I kept my mind focused on Samil's voice, remembering how he had mapped out each step with such precision. Each stranger was just another link in the chain, all connected to his underground network. But even though I was thousands of miles away from him, his presence loomed large, guiding me, keeping me grounded.

When the ship finally docked in Canada, I was met by a man named François at a remote dock. François, with his graying beard and tired eyes, was a far cry from the rougher types I had encountered along the way. He spoke little, but he was efficient. He drove me to a small, forgotten town in Quebec, where I was finally able to rest and prepare for Timmy's birth.

As the weeks passed and my belly grew heavier, I knew the time was coming. Anna, despite the risk, flew from Toronto to be with me. Adam knew she was my best friend, and he knew she was in Canada. If he managed to connect the dots, I was certain he would track me down. But Anna was there, holding my hand through every contraction, whispering reassurances as the pain intensified.

"You can do this, Vi," she murmured, her voice steady even when I wanted to scream. "You've made it this far. You're so strong."

And when I finally heard Timmy's first cry, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Anna brushed my hair from my forehead, her eyes filled with pride and joy as I held my son in my arms.

Samil wasn't there physically, but just days after Timmy was born, he called me again. His calm, calculated voice on the other end of the line reassured me that everything was still in place. The plan for me to move to San Francisco with a new identity was ready. He had arranged everything—new documents, a clean slate. His calm eyes, visible even through the screen, flickered with something almost like pride.

"You've made it, Viola," he said softly. "Now you just need to take this last step."

And so, with Anna's unwavering support and Samil's meticulous planning, I took that step. I left Canada behind and started a new life in San Francisco, a life where Timmy and I could finally be safe. But every day, I'm reminded of the risks we took and the strangers who helped us along the way—strangers who were more like lifelines, thrown at just the right moments to save us from the darkness closing in.