Gloria packed all of the wrong things.

Ashley's father would have filled her luggage with jeans and baggy t-shirts. Instead, her bags overflowed with miniskirts and knit tops. Gloria probably kept herself in mind at the age of twelve, and had then packed for Ashley accordingly.

As it was, she had little time to repack. She threw a few pairs of real clothing into a bag, grabbed money from the hole in her bedroom wall, and balked when her father's dead body brought her crashing down again.

She slumped against the nearest wall, tears falling, chest heaving. Could she really leave the city? Leave the country? Leave her father lying there like that?

There's nothing else I can do.

Her grandparents had been murdered the day before. Then her father the next day. This violence reality of her life seemed unimaginable. Her family. All gone.

Going far, far away was the only way to ensure she might grow up to be thirteen, and then maybe fourteen.

She remembered the other two plane tickets from the desk. They could be traded or sold for more cash. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her bag. On impulse, she bent to hug her father. His cheeks were cold. She kissed them anyway.

"Love you, Dad."

Though she was ready, she couldn't leave. The walls around her faded to black, closing in on her. Her heart thumped wildly, her lungs drawing in breath but seeming to not get enough. I'm having a panic attack. She knew what a panic attack was because of one of her classmates. The girl always panicked before tests, eventually having to test by herself in a separate room because she distracted the other students from clicking on their interface screens.

Ashley pictured the girl, wondering how she calmed down. She lingered near the front door another ten minutes, trying not to pass out.

Start moving forward, damnit!

Her feet felt like tree trunks, impossible to uproot.

She imagined her father urging her along.

Go! Stop standing and waiting for something to happen. Get to a safe place.

The thought of him speaking woke her up, compelling her to open the door.

Stepping outside the apartment proved surreal. They had no neighbors, only a gold mirrored elevator at the end of the hall. All the same, it was odd no one below had heard any of the screams. Ashley remembered the people below them moving out a week before. The apartment was empty. No one had heard a thing two floors down.

Jesus, those men could have stayed as long as they wanted.

She pressed the button for the elevator, wondering how they had gotten inside. There were guards at the entrances, and a person needed ID to enter the building. Stepping off the elevator, Ashley decided to leave from the parking garage instead of the front entrance. She could slip out easier that way. Later on, people might assume she had been taken, like Gloria. Or worse, they might assume her dead, like her father. All the better, because then no one would look for her. It didn't occur to her that her absence may go entirely unnoticed.

In the parking garage, Ashley traveled quickly and quietly to the street exit. Within a few yards of the opening, she ducked behind a car. On the last step, she tripped and did an awkward tuck and roll, her backpack smacking the ground. She bashed an elbow against a car, hoping no one heard.

Post-recovery, Ashley poked her head out to peek at the guard's station. Benny, a middle-aged white dude with balding black hair, busied himself zoning out to a television in his concrete cubicle. It must have been a good show because he laughed sporadically at the black and white images. His laugh was distinctly annoying. Or maybe just distinct.

Ashley knew that laugh. She'd heard it several times while huddled in the closet, waiting for the monsters to leave.

Benny had been there, participated in her father's murder, and Gloria's abduction. But—it couldn't have been him. He traded corny jokes and weather predictions with her dad. On random days, he winked at Ashley, and she winked back, as if they shared a secret.

The secret belonged to the guard, but she hadn't known it then.

Anger, white and hot, spiked inside of her. Backpack, cash, and tickets, yes. She had also dug through her father's desk until she found his gun. The weapon hung heavy in her pocket. She had never fired a gun, but the mechanics seemed simple enough. The little safety latch remained engaged and she reached to switch it off.

Ashley hesitated. The white hot anger lifted a little. If she killed the guard, there would be no taking it back. She would change. Not to mention the mess and noise.

Her decision made, she crept to the street. The guard kept his back turned, oblivious to her departure.

Will I see you again?

Most likely not. Bile choked her as remembered her father again. Her hand hovered over the weapon, ready to exact justice. A phone rang, startling her. Benny picked up a phone on his desk, smiled, and started talking to someone. Ashley took a deep breath, decided against her lesser impulses, and moved on.

Out on the street, it was dark and quiet. A few strangers slumped on sidewalks and against buildings, but she couldn't tell if they were dead or alive. She just hoped they stayed away from her.

Ashley checked her cell phone. Not quite midnight, but almost. Good thing she rebooked the next available flight to Bath before she left the apartment. The plane would depart at eight o'clock the next night. She had a lot of time to fill.

Get to a safe place.

She needed to go find a haven, like a friend's house. She wanted to call Claire or Heather, but she couldn't. They would ask about her, about her dad, and her entire plan would go kapoot. No. For the duration of her stay in the city, Ashley would be on her own.

Though, she had to go somewhere, and a hotel was the solution. The Four Seasons was two blocks away. The concierge might question a twelve-year-old requesting a room on a school night. They might not even let her get a room. Although, a motel like Coach Inn might not care about her age, only about her money.

Coach Inn was more than a few blocks outside the city. For that reason and others, it held a questionable reputation. It was also the butt of many a school yard jibe.

For instance:

Saw you and Sabrina holdin' hands. You two goin' to the Coach Inn later?

Or

Hey Alejandro, I saw your mom at the Coach Inn last night!

She figured a place like that would take her in with no problem.

Ashley called a cab and told the dispatcher where she would be waiting. She also asked them to hurry.

"A little please and thank you wouldn't kill ya," the dispatcher said.

"Please hurry the hell up, thank you."

She hung up.

A bench some twenty feet away called to her, and when she slumped down onto it, it amazed her how drained she was. She had only been awake for a few hours, but fear and loss had stolen her energy. Ashley was halfway to dreamscape when the first raindrop hit her head.