Chapter 3 Anywhere but here

Amelia.

The mansion was a sprawling labyrinth, a maze of polished corridors, ornate archways, and grand staircases that seemed to stretch on forever. But I knew this place like the back of my hand.

I'd spent countless weekends here, attending dinners, parties, and gatherings where I was expected to smile, shake hands, and play the perfect version of myself. I could navigate it blindfolded if I had to. Instead of heading toward the main hall where the guests were laughing and chatting over champagne, I veered toward the back stairs. The smaller, less conspicuous route would take me away from the crowd unnoticed.

My sneakers made almost no sound against the polished wooden floors, a stark contrast to the clack of heels and the rustle of expensive fabrics echoing faintly from below.

The house was alive with the energy of celebration, but I felt like a ghost, slipping through the shadows, unseen and unheard. Each step down the narrow staircase brought me closer to freedom, but also closer to the reality of what I was doing.

When I reached the side entrance, I stopped, pressing my back against the cool wall to steady myself. From here, I could hear the faint murmur of voices, one of them unmistakably Ethan's. His voice was deep and calm, the kind of voice that could command a room without effort. He was probably talking to one of the guests, flashing that perfect, practiced smile of his. The thought sent a pang of guilt twisting through my gut, sharp and unforgiving.

Ethan didn't deserve this. He had always been kind to me, patient even when I had been distant and cold. He had done everything right, everything a man in his position was supposed to do. And yet, his kindness wasn't enough to make me stay. It couldn't erase the emptiness I felt whenever I thought about spending the rest of my life with him.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I pushed open the door and stepped outside.

The cool autumn air hit me like a slap, sharp and biting against my flushed skin. It stole the breath from my lungs for a moment, leaving me gasping as I adjusted to the sudden chill. I pulled the oversized sweater tighter around me, the soft fabric offering little protection against the crisp wind.

The driveway stretched out before me, lined with sleek black cars, their polished surfaces gleaming under the faint glow of the outdoor lights. Each car had a driver waiting patiently to whisk their wealthy passengers back to their penthouses or sprawling estates when the night was over.

I couldn't take one of those. It would be too obvious, too easy to trace. I needed to disappear, not leave a trail of breadcrumbs for my parents to follow.

Instead, I turned away from the cars and made my way down the gravel path that led to the main road. The sound of my sneakers crunching against the gravel filled the silence, a steady rhythm that seemed to keep me moving forward.

The cold air stung my cheeks, turning them red as I walked, but I welcomed the discomfort. It reminded me that this was real, that I was really doing this.

By the time I reached the road, my hands were numb, and my breath came out in little puffs of white mist that hung in the air before disappearing. But I didn't stop.

I kept walking, the mansion shrinking behind me with each step, its bright lights fading into the distance like a memory I was determined to leave behind.

After what felt like hours, though it had probably only been minutes, I stumbled upon a small gas station. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh, unnatural glow on the rows of snacks, magazines, and travel essentials visible through the glass doors. I pushed the door open, the bell above it jingling softly as I stepped inside.

Behind the counter, a teenage boy with a mop of curly hair and earbuds dangling from his ears barely glanced up from his phone. His disinterest was almost comforting, a stark contrast to the judgment I feared from anyone who might recognize me.

"Hi," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I approached the counter. The word felt foreign on my tongue, like I'd forgotten how to speak in this new version of my life. "Do you know when the next bus comes through here?"

He shrugged, not bothering to look up from his screen as he chewed lazily on a piece of gum. "Should be in about twenty minutes. Heading south."

South. That sounded as good as anywhere. Directionless as I was, all I knew was that I needed to get far away from here.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing a water bottle and a pack of gum from the nearest shelf. The items felt absurdly mundane in my hands, but I clung to them like they were anchors. I paid in cash, watching the crumpled bills disappear into the register, as if severing one more tie to the life I was leaving behind.

Stepping back outside, the cold air hit me again, sharper this time, and I shivered as I pulled the sweater tighter.

The gas station's fluorescent lights flickered behind me as I made my way to a wooden bench near the road. I sank down onto it, clutching my bag tightly against my chest, my fingers trembling not just from the cold but from the weight of everything I'd just done.

In the distance, I heard the faint roar of an engine. It grew louder with each passing second until headlights appeared, cutting through the darkness. The bus pulled up in front of me, its brakes squealing as it came to a stop. The doors hissed open, and the driver, an older man with a kind, weathered face, gave me a small nod.

"Where to?" he asked as I climbed on, his voice warm and without judgment.

I hesitated, the question catching me off guard. For a moment, I considered giving him a destination, a plan, something concrete. But then the words spilled out before I could stop them.

"Anywhere but here," I said, my voice quiet but resolute.

The driver chuckled softly, shaking his head as he took the crumpled bill I handed him. "Fair enough. Take a seat."

I slid into a seat near the back, the worn fabric scratchy against my skin. As the bus pulled away and rumbled down the road, I turned to look out the window. The mansion, with all its glittering lights and expectations, disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the darkness.

For the first time in my life, I had no plan. No safety net. No idea what came next. All I had were the clothes on my back, the cash in my pocket, and the faintest spark of courage that had gotten me this far.

And yet, for the first time, I felt something else. Beneath the fear and uncertainty, there was a flicker of something I hadn't felt in years. Freedom.

-