Chapter 1
By the time I reach the apartment complex, I'm running on caffeine, adrenaline, and twenty minutes of broken sleep from a petrol station parking lot three hours outside the city.
Ava has cried for almost the entire drive.
Not loud enough to be inconsolable, but enough to keep my nerves stretched painfully tight. Every sound she makes shoots panic through my chest because I keep expecting headlights behind me.
Even now, after nine hours on the road, I still check the rearview mirror every few minutes.
The town is smaller than I expected, quiet even.
The kind of place where nothing really happens.
That's exactly why I chose it.
I pull into the cracked parking lot beside the apartment building just after sunset, gripping the steering wheel for a second longer than necessary.
This is it. Home. Or at least the closest thing to one I have right now.
The building itself is old and faded, with chipped paint and narrow balconies that appear to be on the verge of collapse in strong winds. A flickering sign near the entrance reads Mariner Apartments.
Not exactly comforting.
But it's cheap.
Anonymous.
Far away.
That's enough.
Ava starts crying again in the backseat.
"I know," I whisper tiredly. "I know, baby."
My entire body aches as I climb out of the car. The cold evening air hits my skin instantly, carrying the smell of rain and saltwater.
For a second, I just stand there staring at the building.
I should feel relieved.
Instead, I feel sick.
Because leaving was the easy part.
Now I have to figure out how to survive.
The landlord gave me instructions over the phone earlier that afternoon. Apartment 4C. The key is hidden under the mat. Rent paid weekly in cash. No questions asked.
That part should probably concern me more than it does.
I unclip Ava from her car seat carefully, settling her against my shoulder while grabbing the duffel bag with my free hand.
The apartment stairs are steep and narrow. By the second flight, my arms are shaking from exhaustion.
Ava's crying grows louder.
"Shh," I murmur desperately. "Please, sweetheart. Just a little longer."
A door somewhere above me opens briefly, then closes again.
My stomach twists immediately.
Too loud.
We're being too loud.
The fourth-floor hallway is dimly lit and faintly smells of cigarette smoke and laundry detergent.
Apartment 4C sits at the very end beside another door marked 4B.
I fumble beneath the mat until my fingers find the key.
Relief hits so hard I nearly cry.
The apartment is tiny.
One bedroom, small kitchen, but it's clean and safe. At least I hope it is.
I lock the door the second I step inside.
Then lock it again.
And again.
Ava cries harder while I move around the apartment, checking every window automatically. Old habits.
Only after checking everything twice do I finally sit down on the couch with Ava in my lap.
The silence feels strange.
No yelling.
No television blaring.
No tension thick enough to choke on.
Just Ava's soft, hiccuping cries and the distant sound of waves somewhere outside.
I didn't realise how loud fear was until now.
The thought makes tears burn suddenly behind my eyes.
I blink them away quickly before they can fall.
Ava needs me to be functional.
Not crying on our first night here.
"Okay," I whisper shakily, brushing her tiny curls back from her forehead. "We're okay."
The words feel fragile, unconvincing. Still, I repeat them anyway.
After unpacking the bare essentials, I warm a bottle for Ava in the tiny microwave while trying not to think too hard about what comes next.
Money is tight.
My phone is turned off.
I have no job.
No friends here.
No plan beyond surviving another day.
But Ryan doesn't know where we are.
That thought alone keeps me breathing.
Ava finally falls asleep around ten.
I almost cry from relief.
Carefully, I lower her into the portable cot beside the couch.
She wakes up immediately.
And screams.
"No, no, no"
I scoop her back up instantly, panic flooding my chest.
"Please don't cry, baby. Please."
I bounce her gently around the apartment, exhaustion making my vision blur slightly.
Nothing works.
Ava just keeps crying.
By midnight, I'm barely holding myself together.
By one in the morning, I'm crying too.
I feel trapped inside the sound of it. Ava screaming, my heartbeat pounding, the voice in my head whispering that I ruined everything.
Then suddenly BANG.
I freeze.
A hard knock sounds through the wall beside me.
Not my front door.
The apartment next door.
My stomach drops instantly.
Ava startles in my arms and cries even harder.
Another bang hits the wall.
"Jesus Christ," a deep male voice mutters faintly through it.
Fear shoots through me so fast it feels like ice water.
I stop breathing.
Angry male voice. Yelling. The sound of pounding.
Every instinct in my body locks up.
Ava cries harder against my shoulder while I stand frozen in the middle of the living room.
Then silence.
A few seconds pass.
A full minute.
Nothing else happens.
I slowly start breathing again, but my hands still shake violently.
"It's okay," I whisper to Ava, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince.
Eventually, her crying softens into exhausted little hiccups.
Mine don't.
An hour later, there's a quiet knock at the front door.
I go completely still.
No.
No, no, no.
Ryan couldn't have found us already.
Another knock sounds, softer this time.
Ava squirms sleepily against my chest while I stare at the door in terror.
Then a man's voice speaks from the hallway.
"Hey," he says quietly. "I'm not pissed off, alright?"
The voice from next door.
I don't answer.
"I just..." He pauses awkwardly. "I figured you might need this."
Confusion cuts briefly through the fear.
A few seconds later, footsteps retreat down the hallway.
I waited almost five full minutes before moving.
Carefully, I crack the door open.
A plastic grocery bag sits outside.
Inside is:
baby formula
microwave mac and cheese
a loaf of bread
and a box of tea
There's also a folded piece of paper.
Thin walls.
Figured you probably forgot to eat.
— Mason, 4B
My throat tightens painfully.
I stare at the note while Ava sleeps against my shoulder.
Then, for the first time since leaving Ryan, I cry for a reason that isn't fear.
"Thank you", I whisper.