Page 16 of Liar Byrd
I’m eighteen now.
An adult.
Old enough to speak to people instead of cowering behind a wall like a frightened child. But I have no words I want to speak into existence. I just want to find a place to hide. Somewhere he won’t find me.
That’s all.
The woman slowly pushes herself to her feet.
My nerves stretch tauter than elastic as I prepare to bolt.
She pushes the bag away from the door, not looking at me. Then she turns her back, reaches for the door, and twists the round wooden handle, pushing it open.
I don’t blink, and I don’t breathe.
I just watch.
“Help is there if you need it. And come back. We give out food every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
She walks inside, closing the door firmly behind her.
The sharp clang of a bolt sliding home relaxes me enough that I can take a breath.
My eyes dip to the odd-shaped brown paper bag.
“What’s a sweetthanglike you doing here?”
I whip around, my eyes clashing with the hungry gaze of a dark-haired man strutting toward me.
Those greedy eyes slide up and down me. He smacks his lips, and I edge farther away. He raises a hand, his dirty palm facing me. “No need to run. I ain’t gonna?—”
I bolt.
He yells after me, but thankfully, he doesn’t follow.
I tuck myself behind a car, listening hard.
When I’ve counted to two hundred, I get up, my knees cracking, and I walk back to the church, looking around me, in case he didn’t leave.
It’s just me.
Relieved, I step around the side of the church, and I slam to a stop.
“No…” I whisper, my eyes prickling with tears.
The bag is gone.
Maybe the man only wanted to chase me away to get the bag for himself.
Maybe he saw it after I’d left and decided it would do instead of me.
Belly grumbling, I eye the closed church side door.
The woman—the nun, or whoever she was—might still be in there. She might have some other food I could have. She could tell me where this women’s shelter is, after all, she left the instructions in the bag.
But that big man is still in there.
If I knock on the door and he answers…
