** SEE DESCRIPTION FOR TRIGGER WARNING **

“Okay, now it’s your turn.” I sighed – did this girl ever not talk? I just wanted to be alone in my head for few minutes. Yesterday it might’ve been fun, but good Lord. “Stop signs.”

Okay. “Stop signs… why are they such a pretty color? Red should be reserved for fun things. And they… help keep you safe. How dare they? Stop signs are only there because the government doesn’t trust us to drive safely on our own.” Mitta giggled.

“I mean, it’s an improvement! You just need to put a little more emotion behind it and elaborate some more. You’ll get there.” She turned to look out the window as we drove through downtown Boston. “There’s a taco place up ahead – want to stop?”

“Sure,” I agreed as I changed lanes.

“Get ourselves ready for some real Mexican food!” I couldn’t help but laugh – the idea that an American fast-food restaurant had any equivalency to authentic food from Mexico was absurd.

I parked and Mitta climbed out of the car while I snuck a look at my phone – the messages were slowing down. If I was going to go back, I needed to do it soon. Maybe I should call Isaac and tell him where we were – he could just come get me, and Mitta would never have to know that I called him. I wouldn’t hurt anyone else’s feelings. I just had to wait until I was out of Mitta’s sight for awhile, so she couldn’t overhear. Then I could go home, and be safe, and everything would be okay.

Mama seemed to have given up, so maybe it really would be okay. We could go back to how we were before she walked in, and I could live in the dorms next semester, and it would be okay. Yeah, that was a good plan. That’s what I would do.

I climbed out of the car and followed Mitta into the restaurant. When could I get away? We walked up to the counter to order and I saw the sign for the bathroom off to the side. That was it – I could go into the bathroom and call Isaac. Okay.

Now I just had to find the courage to do it.

Before I knew it we were sitting down with our food in front of us, a TV droning on quietly behind me as we ate. I could feel the weight of my phone in my purse, like a rock sitting on my lap. I had to do it. If I didn’t do it then, I wasn’t sure I ever would. “I’m going to the bathroom – I’ll be back in a minute,” I told Mitta, setting down my half-eaten quesadilla and standing up from the table. I clutched my purse like my life depended on it as I made my way to the bathroom.

In a way, my life did depend on this, didn’t it? If I did it, I could go back home and… do what? Just hope that everything went back to normal? I needed to know that it would change. I couldn’t stay here, though, not with probably-a-criminal sitting in my passenger seat and trying to make me wear revealing clothes.

I called Isaac.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

The answering machine came in.

I couldn’t leave a message. In all honesty, I probably couldn’t have said anything even if he had answered, but regardless, I hung up as soon as it started talking. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would call and tell him where I was. Not today.

I shoved my phone back in my purse and walked out of the bathroom toward our table. I saw the TV behind my chair and…Mitta? There was a picture of Mitta on the screen! She was a criminal!

No, wait. I read the heading at the bottom – “East Geneview Girl Missing after Sister’s Suicide.”

That’s not a criminal. Unless it wasn’t really a suicide… no, I couldn’t think like that. Mitta was just grieving from the loss of her sister, not someone dangerous. That may not have exactly explained the money, or the need to run, but… well, it was a start.

I started walking toward the table again, slowly, and began to be able to hear the TV. “…if you have any information on Grace Barnum’s whereabouts, contact the number below.” Grace?

I looked at Mitta as I rounded our table, finding that she had finished her food and was cramming her trash into a ball. She looked distracted, concerned – she’d seen the TV, too.

“Um, let’s go. I’m… I’m getting a weird vibe from this city. We should stop somewhere else.” I thought about protesting, gazing longingly at the uneaten half quesadilla in front of my chair. I wasn’t sure how to react – should I play dumb, like I hadn’t seen the TV?

I just nodded and started trying to wrap my quesadilla back up in such a way that I could finish it in the car. I picked up my soda and turned around – to run straight into a large man with too many tattoos, and now a large stream of dark soda pouring down his side.

“Oh good Lord, I am so sorry,” I tried to apologize. He looked at me with an anger that told me he’d been having a very bad day, and that soda was the last straw.

“Listen here, chickie. Ain’t no one – no one! – mess with me. Ya hear? So now ya know what’s gonna happen? Now, you’re-”

“Hey, stop yelling at my friend,” Mitta interjected, stepping in between me and the man. Friend? “It was an accident and she apologized, okay?” The man snorted.

“What, you’re her body guard?” If he’d wanted to, I had no doubt that he could easily have snapped Mitta in half.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but this wasn’t her fault. We’re leaving,” she said, pulling me towards the door.

Had she just stuck up for me? Only Isaac had ever done that. But was it about me? Or had she just been anxious to get out?

I wasn’t sure. But either way, I liked Mitta just a little bit more as we walked out the door. Maybe I could be her friend… maybe.

It was already dark, but I couldn’t sleep. I’d been staring at my phone for the past half hour, my fingers poised above the keyboard. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to type. Come get me? Don’t worry? Help?

The clock flipped over to 11:00. I looked at the last message he’d sent – it was a long one, only partially visible on the screen. I’d already memorized it, though, so it didn’t really matter. It made me smile. It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t know what to do. I had to go home, didn’t I? I couldn’t just run around with this girl I barely knew.

But didn’t it seem like she needed me? The thing on the news – her sister. Who’s to say that if I ditched her she wouldn’t follow in her sister’s footsteps? Or find someone else to drive with – someone dangerous? If I left now I would just be hurting someone else.

No. I had to think of myself for once. What did I want? That’s the question no one ever asked, and for once, I needed to figure it out.

I looked down at my fingers, still hovering above the keyboard as the battery symbol in the corner dropped dangerously low. What did I want? I thought back over the past few days, remembering how impossible it had seemed when Mitta showed up with money right when I needed her. The clothes she bought without asking me. The picture of her on the news. How she stuck up for me with the man.

I typed out a single message, sent it, then tossed my phone in the front where I couldn’t reach it to see his response.

“I’m okay, but don’t look for me – I need to do this. I’m sorry.”

I went to sleep happy, and scared, but I could breathe. I could finally breathe.