ON THE RUN

"Kelsey... Kelsey's here!"

My stepmother’s shrill voice echoed through the room.

Her eyes filled with horror as she gawked at my blood-stained sweater and the worn-out pants I had fished out of a garbage can.

"Wonderful," my stepbrother Michael grumbled from the living room, his voice groggy from sleep. "She needs to remind Marcus about that business loan I asked for."

I rolled my eyes. This was his pattern, demanding, taking and never giving. At thirty-five, he still lived with our parents, leeching off me with his wife and three kids.

"Where’s Dad?" I asked, sinking into the old couch.

My stepmother pointed towards the garage before waddling off to the kitchen.

I found my father under his rusted truck, covered in grease and dirt. He huffed angrily as he tapped a wrench on a rusted metal pipe.

"Dad." I knocked on the metal door and he rolled out, wiping his hands on a rag.

"What a surprise. We weren’t expecting you," he said, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. His gaze darkened as soon as he took in my disheveled state.

"Where’s Marcus? And aren't you supposed to be pregnant?"

I swallowed hard, my heart sinking at the mention of my lost pregnancy.

"Marcus and I are getting a divorce," I lied smoothly.

The wrench in his hand clattered to the ground, the deafening sound like a gunshot in the cramped garage.

His face twisted in rage.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" He yelled angrily.

"Dad, I—"

"How dare you ruin everything I built?" His roar shook the garage and my stepmother and siblings appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed and curious to know what was happening.

"Stupid girl," he spat, knocking his toolbox off the table. The crash made me flinch.

"Marcus kept this family out of debt," he seethed, his hands curling into fists. "And now you think you can just walk away?"

"Please, Dad—"

"You’re going to end up like your mother." His lip curled. "Stupid and dead."

The words hit me like a slap and I bit my lip to stop myself from bursting into tears.

"Get out of my house."

My heart clenched. "I have nowhere to go!"

"Go back to your husband," he said, shoving me toward the door.

"Dad—"

"Leave!"

The door slammed in my face. I pounded on it until my knuckles throbbed but no one answered.

I was alone. I had no where to go.

I had to find a way to disappear before Marcus’s family found me.

I drove aimlessly, my thoughts a storm of panic and exhaustion. The only option I had left was hiding somewhere no one would think to look.

By nightfall, I found a rundown motel in the outskirts of town. The parking lot reeked of piss and homeless people huddled in corners.

Bullet holes were scattered around the bright blue walls and rust plagued every metal structure in the building.

"Welcome, miss," the chubby receptionist greeted me with a wide smile.

"I need a room for a week," I said, pointing to the cheapest option, fifteen dollars a night.

"Method of payment?"

I slid my debit card across the counter.

She ran it through the machine. A loud beep echoed through the reception.

She tried again, her smile faded and she slid the card back to me.

"Your card declined."

My stomach dropped. "That’s not possible."

I had money. I had spent months saving to start a business, I had enough money to fund my stay here for several months.

I begged the receptionist to please try it again. She hesitantly agreed and the card got declined again.

With shaky hands, I dialed my accountant.

"Ma’am," the receptionist snapped.

"Just one second," I begged, my desperation growing each passing second.

The call finally connected.

"This is Mrs Kelsey Phillip. My card keeps declining, but I have money in my account—"

"One moment, ma’am," my accountant said quickly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into the counter as I silently prayed this was all a mistake.

After several minutes, the call reconnected.

"Ms. Phillip?" Her voice was hesitant. "Your account is empty."

"What?" My voice came out strangled.

"All funds were transferred to your husband’s account a week ago."

What the hell?

How did he manage to find out about my personal savings?

Even in death, Marcus still found a way to screw me over. How could he do this to me?

"I didn’t authorize any transfers!" I gripped the phone like a lifeline. "You have to reverse it immediately!"

"I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s nothing we can do," she said dismissively before ending the call.

I wanted to scream, to cry but there was nothing I could possibly do to change my situation.

I was officially destitute.

I stood there, frozen with no idea of what to do or where to start from.

~

For the next few nights, I slept in my car.

A local bakery down the street hired me without background checks or asking for a guarantor. The pay was manageable, just enough for gas and hygiene products. I showered at work. I ate leftover pastries. And I kept my head down to avoid running into anybody that knew me.

Despite my efforts, fear followed me everywhere. I was a murderer on the run and I was certain Marcus's family was searching for me and one day, they might just find me.

"Miss, the espresso machine is overflowing," my customer said, snapping me back to reality.

"Oh, my God!....I’m so sorry," I stammered, quickly turning off the machine and cleaning up the spill.

"If you’re exhausted, take a day off," he said with an easy smile.

"I can’t afford that," I muttered.

He chuckled. "What about your boyfriend? Husband?"

I froze, my hands tightening around the counter.

"I’m divorced," I lied.

"His loss." He adjusted his sunglasses, revealing his light grey eyes.

I offered him a small smile and returned to packing his order.

I handed him his order, hoping he’d leave without asking any other questions.

"Thank you, Kelsey Grace," he said, dropping a hundred dollar bill into the tip jar.

I went rigid, fear consuming every inch of my being.

We didn’t wear name tags.

How did he know my full name?

"Sir!" I called, rushing toward the door.

But he was already gone.

A chill crawled down my spine.

"Kelsey, there’s a call for you," my manager yelled from behind the register.

I called off my pursuit and headed to the register.

"Hello?"I whispered as I placed the phone to my ear, but there was no response.

"They must have hung up," my manager said. "But they said it was your dad. A family emergency."

My stomach twisted.

I smelled trouble and I couldn't wait to find out what shit my father had gotten himself into this time.

An hour later, I pulled into my father’s driveway.

Shiny, black cars lined the street. The last time I had seen this many cars was the day I was sold off to Marcus.

Panic surged through my veins.

I forced my legs to move, each step more agonizing than the other as I approached the front door.

My finger hovered over the doorbell. Contemplating if it was better to turn back or find out what the emergency was.

Before I could press it, the door flew open, and a large man in a black suit yanked me inside.

"She's here," he called out, shoving me toward the living room.

I stumbled forward, almost tripping over.

My blood ran cold immediately I entered the living room.

My father and brothers lay flat on the ground, their faces pressed against the floor.

In the corner, my stepmother sat with the baby, her eyes swollen from crying.

And in the center of the room, surrounded by armed men, sat an old man with a jagged scar running down his face.

I was forced on my knees in front of him and a twisted smile appeared on his face.

"Kelsey Grace," he called, lighting a cigar.

"Where is your husband?"

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. My day of reckoning had finally arrived.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching me like he already knew I was about to lie.

"I don't know," I whispered.

The old man hissed, shaking his head. "Wrong answer, angel."

I flinched as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

"Your husband owes me. Over thirty thousand . And since he vanished..." His lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"That debt belongs to you now."

My breath caught in my throat. I could barely had enough money to survive. How was I supposed to pay off any debt?

"You have three days to pay or rat him out."

I shook my head violently, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I don’t have any money. I don't know where he-"

A gunshot was fired and the building shook violently.

My stepmother screamed and the baby began crying uncontrollably.

I gasped, hands flying to my ears as the ringing deafened me.

The old man laughed wickedly as he tucked his gun into the pocket of his coat.

"That was a warning, angel."

"Three days. Or your family dies."