Exit Strategy

One more train.

Then she’d be away.  Far enough to lose all communication.  Far enough that he could not find her.

“Can I help you Ma’am?”  a porter reached for her luggage. Passengers crowded in behind.

“Just a moment, thanks.”

Pulling her suitcase aside, she fidgeted with her purse, pretending to be searching for a ticket.  Courage was what she really needed.

She thought of her mother – how torn apart, she’d be.

She thought of her sister – confined to a nursing home, unable to recognize or converse.  Was it fair to leave her?

The porter called to her again, indicating time.

He had a kind face – open and concerned.  The face she’d left behind was not kind, his hands weapons that had lashed out so many times.  What choice did she have?  If she stayed, he would kill her.

So, she would move on.  Start a new life.  Leave behind all that she knew and loved…

The thought stopped her, a sudden rage emerging. How is this just?  Why should he live his life, and I lose all?

She picked up her bag, brushed past the helpful porter, and into the streets.

She needed a better strategy.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday – response to be written in multiples of 50 words.  This is 200.  Image provided by Deb Whittam.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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