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I was waiting in line inside a little gas station in SE Texas, waiting my turn to purchase a bus ticket. All of my belongings that could be shoved into three suitcases were at my side. There standing in line with me were families with their suitcases, all looking forward to their trip. I, on the other hand, felt a mix of emotions. As I progressed to the front of the line, stabs of pain, physical and emotional, coursed through my body . I wanted to scream and shout, I'm so alone. I'm so scared. I was scared to take the next necessary step. I was alone in knowing that I was no longer tied to the controlling monster that had inflicted the bruises on my injured body. No one knew of the trauma I had endured. No one knew I was escaping. Stay baby, don't go. We can get YOU help was what he had said to me in his last ditch effort to keep me there. It was in that moment I knew for sure, that my life would never change. My life would be an endless series of covering bruises, and taking the blame for the battles, if I had caved in one more time and stayed.

My feet felt like lead, too heavy to move. My chest was caving from stifling a cry. I knew what was best for me, but I still wanted to stay. I never gave up hope that one day he would actually be the man he professed to be.

As I climbed onto the bus, I felt the pull to jump off. I tried fighting the urge to wait for a later bus as I walked down the aisle, finding there was just one open seat. Maybe if I waited one more day, he would show up on his white horse, as a new man. I felt gravity pull me to sit down. I shoved my carry on under my seat and held my purse close to my chest. Like a child on their first day of school, I wanted my mommy. I prayed to God, Please get me past this hurdle, please let me forget.

I slid down in my seat when the bus drove past the exit to my old neighborhood, afraid that he might see me. I knew it was impossible, but the power I gave him made me feel like he could sense me even on the Greyhound bus.

I nearly made a call to have him pick me up when the bus made a transfer in Houston. The overwhelming panic that came in waves was beginning to be too much to endure. But the painful reminder of my cracked collarbone only reaffirmed my mindset as I pulled my luggage across the terminal. I was feeling sorry for myself. So I bought myself a bag of chocolate, some cigarettes and a Dr. Pepper. I tried not to look like an injured woman, traveling all by herself.

I decided then to not look

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