Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 3

I should've checked his bag for a snack, or stopped at that last grocery store. Heck, I should've swiped a candy bar from those kids I passed by the "Leaving Town" sign. Anything would've been better than feeling this gnawing, relentless hunger.

I'm sure it's past midnight, and I've been walking on the side of the road for two hours. By now, I've probably covered about six miles, but I have no clue where I'm actually headed.

Another hour of dragging my feet passes, and I'm just about ready to collapse when I spot some faint lights up ahead. My heart leaps—finally, a gas station! I muster whatever energy I have left and break into a run. I only have a couple of bucks on me, the last of what was left in the car before I ditched it. I pushed the car into the forest with the handbrake down, hoping it'd stay hidden at least until sunrise, giving me a head start.

Reaching the gas station, I feel a silly grin spread across my face. I grab a water bottle and a chocolate bar, my stomach practically growling with excitement. If I hadn't thrown up my lunch earlier, maybe I'd be fine right now. But no, I had to be the one puking up perfectly good energizing calories.

At the register, the cashier gives me a strange look. I catch my reflection in the glass by the counter: a red dress that's wrinkled and dirty, boots three times the size of my feet, and a split lip that's still swollen. I look like I walked straight out of a disaster movie. Great—no "Wanted" signs needed; I'm practically announcing myself.

I hand over my two crumpled bills, trying to look as normal as someone in my situation can. The cashier just scans the items, then pauses, clearly trying to figure out what to make of me.

"Long night?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I shrug, trying to act casual. "Yeah, something like that."

He hands me the change, and I'm about to leave when I feel that horrible pang—nature calling, and I realize I haven't used the bathroom since I left. Not to mention, I chickened out when I was near the forest, worried that some wild animal would sniff me out. I have no phone to check if that's even a thing, but right now, it doesn't matter.

I look at the cashier with the most pitiful, pleading expression I can muster. "Um, is there a bathroom I could use?"

He frowns. "Out of order. Sorry."

"Please?" I say, my voice cracking just a little. I'm pulling out my best teary-eyed, "you-don't-know-the-day-I've-had" look. "I promise, I'll clean up after myself if I need to. Just...please."

He sighs, clearly uncomfortable, but eventually hands me a key. "Fine, you can use the employee bathroom. Just be quick, okay?"

I thank him, grabbing the key urgently before he changes his mind, and all but sprint to the bathroom. After doing my business, I spot a small changing room attached to the side. An idea pops into my head, desperate but necessary. I spot a pair of old jeans on a hook—they look like his, but right now, I don't have the luxury of being picky. I shimmy into them, rolling up the ends and tucking them under my dress so they're hidden.

When I return to the counter, he's on the phone, giving me the perfect chance to swipe a small pair of scissors lying next to the register and shove them in my oversized boot. He hangs up just as I drop the bathroom key back on the counter.

"Thanks for the help," I say quickly, trying to avoid his gaze as I head out the door.

Once I'm far enough down the road, I stop, pull out the scissors, and go to work. I slice the dress into a long, rough-edged shirt and use an extra strip of fabric as a makeshift belt around the jeans, pulling everything together the best I can. The end result? I look ridiculous—like I have no fashion sense whatsoever—but at least it's less conspicuous than a runaway in a tattered red dress.