My bare feet slap against the hard pavement as I race toward the house. Little rocks dig into my soles as I sprint like a woman in a horror movie trying to outrun the monster. In a way, I am that girl. The monster I’m trying to outrun is the terrifying existence I will have if I don’t beat Sylvia and Raymond home.

“Hey, watch it!” a random woman shouts at me as I brush past her, but I don’t have time to apologize. I don’t have time to do anything but run as fast as my thick legs and my beating heart will allow me to go. I know that the airport is only a half-hour drive from the house, so it will basically take a miracle for me to get there before them.

I pull the night air deep into my lungs and hold my shoes in one hand, my bag in the other, and pump my arms hard as I thump my feet against the sidewalk. Tender spots I’m sure will turn to blisters by morning are already forming. However, if a few blisters are my biggest problem tomorrow, I will be the luckiest girl in the world.

My thoughts grow unfocused as the memory of the night I escaped my country flashes behind my eyes. I ran with this same despair nipping at my heels, except that night it was literally a matter of life and death.

I can’t let my mind do this to me. I can’t think about that now. I didn’t risk everything to make it to the United States only to lose it like this. I kick up my speed, somehow finding a burst of energy I didn’t know I had, and dash across the last block to the house like an Olympian. I almost fall over onto the grass as I skid around the corner and up the driveway.

There’s no car here, but the Uber could’ve already dropped them off and left by now. I stand back up on my burning feet and climb the stairs to the side door, two at a time, and peer inside. There are no lights on in the house. I turn the knob on the door I left unlocked and tiptoe in over the threshold.

My soles are searing as I quickly make my way around the familiar furniture and stop dead in my tracks as headlights flood through the front window and eerily light up the room. They’re home. My muscles are frozen tight, like my fear has turned my legs to stone.

“Move, Ella,” I hiss and take the final painful steps to my room. I chuck Sylvia’s Jimmy Choo shoes under my bed along with the bag and dive in under my covers, tugging them up over the dress I borrowed from her closet for the night, and try to get my breathing under control. Sweat is dripping off my forehead as I hear Sylvia and Raymond walk into the house.

“Ella! Ella, you answer me right now! I called you a million times to come and get us.” Two sets of footsteps clomp down the hall, coming closer with every step to my room.

I quickly wipe my head on my sheet, pulling it tight up around my neck. I close my eyes and pray she doesn’t come in here. That she doesn’t find me wearing her clothes, sweating like a race horse. Please don’t come in here, please.

“Ella, what on earth are you doing?” My door opens and I gulp, playing dead, or at least pretending to sleep as light slides in across my room.

“Is she sleeping?” Raymond’s dim voice bounces off my eardrums.

“Ella!” Sylvia yells at me, but I don’t move. I just keep my eyes shut and my body perfectly still. Inside I’m pleading with God to send her on her way, but I’m pretty sure I’m completely screwed.

“Look, she’s all red and sweaty. I think she’s sick or something,” Raymond talks from my doorway as they both watch me.

“Well, I’ll be talking to her about this tomorrow. Sick or not, she should answer her phone. Anyway, let’s get out of here. I don’t want her swine flu or whatever.” I can almost hear her eyes roll as she turns in a huff and the door clicks closed behind them.

Tears streak down my face as I look up at my ceiling. “Thank you,” I quietly sob. “Thank you!”

I lie in my bed, perfectly still until I hear Sylvia plop down in the living room and turn on the television. “Ray-ray, come here. My show is on and I need a foot rub,” she beckons him like a dog. Of course, he complies. He knows the score. His comfortable lifestyle comes with a price and, if I were a betting girl, I’d say he’s going to pay it tonight.

I ease back out of my bed and free myself from the sticky sweater and silky dress now coated with my sweat. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. For now, I just stuff it in the back corner under my bed and slip into my normal pajamas. Looking down at my wrist, I lightly trail my finger over the wristband Jackson bought for me to get into the fair.

My thoughts flicker through the images of this evening, like an old, nostalgic woman thumbing through a family album. I touch my lips as I remember his kiss, the way he tasted. My heart gallops again, but this time it has nothing to do with running.

“And I’ll never see him again.” The words physically hurt to utter. They catch in my throat and tear out my heart. I wrap my fingers around the band and tear it free from my wrist, shoving it under my mattress before I climb back into bed.

My phone!

Hopping up, I drop down on my belly, stretching underneath my bed for the purse I tossed under there earlier. Fishing it out with my outstretched fingertips, I yank my phone out of the main pocket and open it up. It takes a second, but I remember the way Julianna showed me to delete the apps and I wipe them from existence.

Sighing with relief, I go back to bed and let my tense body slowly unwind as I relax against the mattress. My mind swirls with a cyclone of memories from the night, all of them so surreal, I already feel like I’m dreaming before I even close my eyes to rest.