The bus didn't stop once.
Not for breaks.
Not for long pauses.
It kept moving east through the night, the engine humming steadily beneath the quiet conversations of a few passengers.
I stayed in the very last row, hood up, cap low, eyes fixed on the window.
The farther we drove, the more the city lights faded behind us.
Buildings turned into houses.
Houses turned into fields.
Fields stretched endlessly under the dark sky.
I kept checking the fake ID in my pocket, making sure it was still there.
Jake Morrow.
Nineteen.
Blonde hair. Brown eyes.
A stranger.
The name didn't feel real yet.
But it would have to.
After hours on the road, the bus finally slowed down.
The sign outside the window announced the last stop.
Small.
Quiet.
Almost empty.
Just like he said.
My heart started beating faster.
This was it.
I stood up, walked to the front, and stepped off the bus.
The doors closed behind me with a soft hiss, and the vehicle drove away, leaving me alone under the streetlights.
For a moment, I didn't move.
The air felt different here.
Cleaner.
Colder.
The town was small—only a few buildings nearby, most of them closed for the night.
I checked my surroundings carefully.
No one watching.
No sirens.
No sudden movement.
Good.
I walked toward the nearest store window and looked at my reflection.
Cap.
Old work clothes.
Still me.
I pulled the cap lower and adjusted my posture slightly.
If I wanted to survive here, I had to become someone new completely.
The boss had been right.
Never trust anyone.
But the thought made my chest feel heavy.
Because people had helped me.
The diner lady.
The officer.
The boss.
All of them had risked something for me.
My fingers tightened slightly around the bus ticket in my pocket.
The east.
A new place.
A new start.
I exhaled slowly and started walking down the street.
First priority: find somewhere to stay temporarily.
Second: buy contact lenses.
Third: figure out how to build a life that doesn't fall apart.
The town was quiet, but not empty.
A few lights were on in apartments above shops.
A distant dog barked.
Somewhere, a television flickered behind a curtain.
Normal life.
I kept walking until I found a small convenience store still open.
I stepped inside.
The bell above the door rang softly.
Inside, it was bright and warm.
The cashier barely looked up.
Good.
I walked straight to the aisle with hygiene items and contact lens solution.
I grabbed what I needed carefully, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
Then I paused.
In the mirror near the pharmacy section, I caught my reflection again.
Blonde hair wasn't hard to fake with dye.
Brown eyes would require lenses.
The thought made me swallow.
This was no longer running.
This was rebuilding.
I paid with part of the cash my boss had given me, keeping the rest hidden deep inside my bag.
When I stepped back outside, the night felt different.
Not like escape.
But like possibility.
I looked down the street.
Somewhere in this town, there would be a small apartment I could afford.
Somewhere, there would be a room with a real bed.
And maybe, for the first time in my life, I wouldn't have to sleep in a dumpster or hide in storage rooms.
I adjusted my hoodie one last time.
Jake Morrow took a slow breath.
Then started walking forward into the east.