Alora’s POV
Waking up the next morning, my stomach growled loudly, reminding me that it had been far too long since I'd eaten a proper meal. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched, taking in the dimly lit motel room. It wasn't much, but for now, it was my safe haven.
I climbed out of bed, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath my feet, and made my way to the bathroom. The faucet squeaked as I turned it on, and the shower sputtered to life.
The bathroom was far from perfect—the tiles cracked, and the mirror slightly fogged—but it was functional. I let the water run for a minute before stepping under the lukewarm spray, grateful for any semblance of normalcy.
After the shower, I dried off and dug through my suitcase for something inconspicuous to wear. I chose the baggiest clothes I had, a pair of worn jeans and an oversized hoodie, hoping to blend in as much as possible. I pulled the hood over my head, concealing my hair, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
With my stoma
