March 10th

I can scarcely breathe.

After his outburst, I never wanted to see him again, much less heed his absurd warning. I never imagined he would save my life. Yet, when they came for me, he was the first one I called for help. Without a word, without hesitation, he was the one who rescued me.

In the end, it wasn't my lover, as he'd predicted. It was my landlord. I overheard him colluding with his partner, the fast-talking one with gold chains on wrists and ankles. I was always wary of them. They wanted my head to ward off enemies, assert their power, and petrify others at whim. I turned to my sister to plan my escape. We both knew I'd need his help. I stayed up all night to gather my things and garner strength. He kept a look out and beamed me the signal when the landlord stepped out for morning coffee. Swiftly, in silence, he carried my load of crude, heavy bundles, and led me to the safe house. Our eyes did not meet. He told me to lay low and asked me not to call for awhile. Now he's gone.

I want to get as far away from here as I can. As soon as I catch my breath, I'll disappear.