Page 2 of Razor
"You're nothing without me," he'd whispered the last time, hand tight around my throat while Dante slept in the next room."No one will believe you.No one will help you."
But my brother would.Pretty Boy had promised.He'd arranged everything—the motel, the motorcycle club that would take us somewhere safe.Somewhere Tyler couldn't reach.
The garage appeared ahead, its darkened windows offering no hint of what awaited inside.I punched the security code with trembling fingers.The small side door unlocked with a soft click.
Inside, my modest sedan waited—the only thing truly mine, purchased with money I'd saved from the allowance my parents still controlled.I'd stashed emergency supplies in the trunk over weeks, adding things gradually so no one would notice.I placed Dante in his car seat, buckling him in with clumsy, desperate movements.He stirred, eyes opening slightly.
"Mommy?"
"We're going on a trip, sweetie," I whispered, stroking his cheek."Go back to sleep."
"Kay," he mumbled, eyes already closing.
I slid into the driver's seat, inserted the key, and hesitated.One last glance at the mansion through the garage windows.The place where I'd been raised, controlled, diminished.Marble and money and misery.
The garage door hummed to life.No turning back now.I backed out slowly, headlights off until I reached the gates.The security system would register the gate opening.By morning, they'd know.They'd call Tyler.The hunt would begin.
But we'd be long gone by then.I had to believe that.I had to believe in the promise of freedom, in Pretty Boy's plan, in the strangers who would help us.
For Dante.
I punched the gas as soon as we cleared the gates, the mansions of my parents' elite neighborhood blurring into darkness behind us.Dante slept peacefully in the back, unaware that his entire world had just changed.
Mine too.
Every set of headlights in my rearview mirror sent my heart into my throat.I'd been driving for nearly an hour, taking random turns through empty neighborhoods, doubling back occasionally to make sure no one followed us.My knuckles ached from gripping the steering wheel, but I couldn't ease up.Not yet.Tyler had connections—police officers who owed him favors, friends with too much time and money.One call from my parents, and they'd all be looking for us.
I checked the digital clock on the dashboard: 2:17 AM.My eyes burned from exhaustion and fear-fueled adrenaline.Three hours until dawn.Three hours to disappear before my parents discovered our empty beds.
The gas station I passed had a single flickering light illuminating an empty parking lot.The neighborhoods had grown progressively shabbier—million-dollar homes giving way to apartment complexes, then to abandoned storefronts with barred windows.I was crossing invisible borders, leaving behind the sanitized world my parents had trapped me in.
Headlights appeared behind me.My breath caught.I made a sudden right turn onto a side street.
The car followed.
"Fuck," I whispered, glancing back at Dante, still mercifully asleep in his car seat, clutching his dinosaur.My hands trembled as I took another turn, then another, my mind racing through possibilities.Was it Tyler?Had my parents somehow realized we were gone already?
I pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour laundromat, drove around back, and killed the lights.The other car drove past without slowing.Just a coincidence.Just my paranoia.I exhaled shakily, resting my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment.
"Get it together, Ophelia," I muttered.
In the rearview mirror, Dante stirred, his small face scrunching up before his eyes fluttered open.
"Mommy?Where are we?"
I twisted in my seat, reaching back to stroke his cheek."Hey, baby.We're on our adventure, remember?Are you okay?"
He blinked sleepily, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings with mild confusion rather than fear."I'm thirsty."
I grabbed the sippy cup I'd packed."Here you go, sweetie.Try to go back to sleep, okay?We'll be somewhere cozy soon."
"'Kay."He took a few sips, then settled back, eyes already drooping.The children's melatonin was still working its gentle magic.
I pulled back onto the road, following the directions Pretty Boy had given me.Twenty minutes later, a flickering neon sign appeared in the distance: STARLIGHT MOTEL.Except the 'S' and 'L' were dark, leaving "TARIGHT MOTEL" glowing an angry red against the night sky.
My stomach clenched.I'd expected a rundown motel, but this place looked like it rented rooms by the hour.The parking lot was nearly empty—just three cars and a pickup truck with a missing tailgate.Weeds pushed through cracks in the asphalt.A vending machine stood like a sentinel near the office, its light the brightest thing in the lot.
But it was anonymous.It was the address Pretty Boy had given me.It was all we had.
