On the second day of my period, Kevin had another football game. Dad was kind enough to let me stay home. When someone started shaking me awake, I groggily squirmed away.
"Leave me alone," I snapped.
"Becky. Becky, wake up. We don't have much time. We've got to go," I woke up at the sound of Mark's voice. I hadn't seen him in a few days. Not since the...for all I knew he had moved out. I blinked my eyes open. Mark was standing over me. He had two suitcases and a solemn expression.
"Where are we going?" I asked, drowsily.
"Away from here. Come on, Becky, get dressed," I slid out of bed, still in a stupor.
"Why are we leaving?" I asked, fumbling through my drawer for a bra. Mark colored and looked away.
"Do you have to ask? Do you like what they're doing to you?" he asked.
"I have no money. No degree. No job. And I'm 18! Where will I go?" I felt mounting panic. I was miserable here, but at least I had a roof over my head. What would become of me if I ran away? I knew what happened to girls who ran away. They ended up with guys a lot rougher than Connor.
"That's why you have me. I applied for a transfer from my job and you're coming with me."
"Why do you want me?"
"Because you're my little sister and I love you,"
"Is that the only reason?" I held my breath.
"Just get dressed, Becky," It took an enormous amount of courage to leave the house that morning. We drove for about five hours without checking our phones before Mark said he was tired and we would have to spend the night at a hotel: his new apartment that he was renting was about another seven hours away. We were truly leaving everything behind.