"Good luck, honey. Whatever you're running from—I hope you make it." Carol said, wearing her jacket, and twenty dollars she'd kindly given me stuffed in my pocket. I was grateful. I opened the door and stepped out into the cold. The air bit at my exposed legs, my torn feet, but I didn't flinch. I closed the door, watched Carol's taillights disappear down the highway, and turned toward the diner.I was alone now.Completely, utterly alone.It should have terrified me.Instead, it felt like the first real breath I'd taken in years.The diner bathroom was a study in institutional grimness: cracked tile, a mirror spotted with age, a sink that dripped rust-colored water. But it had a lock on the door and soap that smelled like fake flowers, and that was enough.I stripped off what was left of the wedding dress, watching it pool on the floor like a shed skin. The fabric was torn, mud-caked, and streaked with blood from the cuts on my arms and legs. It looked like something that had been t
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