37 – Wings

Slowly, she pried free from under his arm, making sure not to wake him. An elegant silk robe by some Italian designer hung by her side of the bed. She pressed it against her face, smelling a mixture of expensive perfume and whiskey, then tossed it aside in disdain and walked naked out the door.

The mansion was quiet in the early dawn. She looked around, everything here was incredibly expensive or unique. In a way, she should have felt flattered, only the best and most beautiful things were worthy of his private collection.

“–The most beautiful cage.” She muttered to herself.

The lock clicked as the last pin fell into place. All those years learning how to survive on the streets were coming back at her, and just in time.

It was all inside, just like she always knew. Her weathered backpack, her old clothes… and her leash.

The battered leather jacket felt just like a friend’s embrace. She took the service stairs to the back porch and slid out between the railing.

There were guards, but by now she knew where and when they all were. The road was clear all the way to the shed.

It was a perfect piece, black and chrome with red wings painted on each side of the gas tank. Like everything else here it was expensive, unique, and taken as payment for debt.

She smiled.

The engine roared as she drove past the main door, just in time to see him come out yelling orders to stop her. Too late.

She heard his voice, almost drowned by the sound of the engine.

“–You’ll come back! You belong to me, bitch! I’ll make your life a living hell until you BEG me to take you back!”

She opened the throttle and let the red wings fly.

The night was cold under the desert stars. She pulled one more sheet from the envelope and reverently fed it to the eager camp fire.

They would come after her, of course. He had a reputation to keep.

“–Let them!” She thought, and kept nurturing the flames with her past.

A young girl looked at her from the fire for an instant, and curled into ashes.

• • •

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