She listened through the open kitchen window to the various sounds of his productivity—automotive noises and hammering ones, distant hinges creaking and the odd grunt. She didn’t know what it meant that he’d left her alone. Trust was too much to hope for, as even she wasn’t sure if she’d try to run again. It sucked to commodify Russ, to see him as an opportunity. Still, that’s what he was, in essence—a chance at redemption, should he choose to let her stay. A ticket to prison if he changed his mind and decided that was best. The only power she had now lay in her two feet and how far and fast they could carry her, but three weeks of running had left her exhausted. She wanted to stay with Russ and earn what he’d offered, some money and a safe place to sleep for as long as he’d allow. She said a little prayer to a God she’d never believed in that he’d keep his promise from last night and give her this second chance she didn’t particularly deserve.
