right, Skylar thought sadly. You reap what you sow. No point in looking back now. It was simply about survival. Skylar picked herself up and slithered along the dirty walls of the old buildings, fearfully watching for anyone who might cause her harm. She held her breath as she disappeared into the shadows, waiting for three unshaven and poorly dressed men to pass. She slipped around a corner and froze, taking in her surroundings.
“Fuck. I can’t even read the signs. Where the hell am I?” she muttered aloud, not recognizing the words on the store fronts or the street signs. They appeared to be written in a Slavic language.
“Damn it,” she swore, suddenly understanding her predicament. “They warned me! They fucking warned me! My God, why didn’t I listen for once? ‘You can’t let your mind slip for a second,’ they said. Tralec even lectured me about ending up inside of a boulder, at the bottom of the ocean, or in the middle of Siberia. I’m such an idiot! I was thinking of the Iberia credit card and how it rhymed with Siberia… and where do I end up? Somewhere in the middle of fucking Siberia! Shit, shit, shit,” Skylar growled, rubbing the back of her neck. “What am I going to do? No money, no ID… Fuck! ”
The only positive thing was that the particular city she ended up in appeared to be fairly clean and quiet, and the street lighting was good enough to allow Skylar to seek shelter from the icy cold. She walked into a coffee shop, catching the eye of the proprietor.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but where am I?”
He looked frightened as he backed up behind the counter. He was afraid of her? Why? Was it her bruised face? Did he think she would bring trouble into his quiet store?
“I’m alone. I am lost and don’t know where I am. I need help,” Skylar said, frightened tears welling in her eyes. “Please help me.”
The man muttered something and lifted a telephone to his ear, hurriedly spouting something. He pointed to a chair and nodded, handing her a steaming cup of black coffee. Skylar slowly sat down with a smile, reaching to rub her aching leg as she lifted the bitter liquid to her lips. After only a few sips, she turned her head as two uniformed men entered the cafe. Police officers!
“I’m lost. Does anyone speak English here?”
“No English,” one of the men said gruffly, gesturing her to stand. Skylar shivered, sensing she was in trouble. For what, though? Loitering?
“American,” she pointed to herself. She pointed to her swollen ankle to show she was injured on more areas that her bruised face. “Ow.”
One of the men looked genuinely concerned. He made fists and pointed outside. Skylar shook her head. “No, no one hurt me here. It was somewhere else. I need to go home. Help me.”
“Home?”
“America. America is home.”
Both men shook their heads and pointed to the door. That was her signal to leave. With a sigh, Skylar stood on trembling legs and walked outside. She leaned against the store front and crumbled to the cold ground as tears flooded from her eyes.
One of the men tapped on her shoulder, his eyes relaying sorrow. He beckoned to her after stating a firm retort to his partner. Skylar looked up at him with hope. He wanted to try to help her!
“Thank you,” she sniffled, accepting a Kleenex from him. He supported her weight as she limped painfully to the squad car, and then he assisted her into the back seat. The two men argued as they joined her in the vehicle, their words lost on her. She stared blankly out the scratched window as she was driven to an old building several miles away. The officer gestured for her to get out of the car and pointed to the ancient door.
“Home?” he said gently.
Skylar watched him wave apologetically as he returned to the vehicle and drove off. Home. It looked like a halfway house in a bad section of town. He must have thought she had been staying there. With the hope that the building was a youth hostel, she
“Fuck. I can’t even read the signs. Where the hell am I?” she muttered aloud, not recognizing the words on the store fronts or the street signs. They appeared to be written in a Slavic language.
“Damn it,” she swore, suddenly understanding her predicament. “They warned me! They fucking warned me! My God, why didn’t I listen for once? ‘You can’t let your mind slip for a second,’ they said. Tralec even lectured me about ending up inside of a boulder, at the bottom of the ocean, or in the middle of Siberia. I’m such an idiot! I was thinking of the Iberia credit card and how it rhymed with Siberia… and where do I end up? Somewhere in the middle of fucking Siberia! Shit, shit, shit,” Skylar growled, rubbing the back of her neck. “What am I going to do? No money, no ID… Fuck! ”
The only positive thing was that the particular city she ended up in appeared to be fairly clean and quiet, and the street lighting was good enough to allow Skylar to seek shelter from the icy cold. She walked into a coffee shop, catching the eye of the proprietor.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but where am I?”
He looked frightened as he backed up behind the counter. He was afraid of her? Why? Was it her bruised face? Did he think she would bring trouble into his quiet store?
“I’m alone. I am lost and don’t know where I am. I need help,” Skylar said, frightened tears welling in her eyes. “Please help me.”
The man muttered something and lifted a telephone to his ear, hurriedly spouting something. He pointed to a chair and nodded, handing her a steaming cup of black coffee. Skylar slowly sat down with a smile, reaching to rub her aching leg as she lifted the bitter liquid to her lips. After only a few sips, she turned her head as two uniformed men entered the cafe. Police officers!
“I’m lost. Does anyone speak English here?”
“No English,” one of the men said gruffly, gesturing her to stand. Skylar shivered, sensing she was in trouble. For what, though? Loitering?
“American,” she pointed to herself. She pointed to her swollen ankle to show she was injured on more areas that her bruised face. “Ow.”
One of the men looked genuinely concerned. He made fists and pointed outside. Skylar shook her head. “No, no one hurt me here. It was somewhere else. I need to go home. Help me.”
“Home?”
“America. America is home.”
Both men shook their heads and pointed to the door. That was her signal to leave. With a sigh, Skylar stood on trembling legs and walked outside. She leaned against the store front and crumbled to the cold ground as tears flooded from her eyes.
One of the men tapped on her shoulder, his eyes relaying sorrow. He beckoned to her after stating a firm retort to his partner. Skylar looked up at him with hope. He wanted to try to help her!
“Thank you,” she sniffled, accepting a Kleenex from him. He supported her weight as she limped painfully to the squad car, and then he assisted her into the back seat. The two men argued as they joined her in the vehicle, their words lost on her. She stared blankly out the scratched window as she was driven to an old building several miles away. The officer gestured for her to get out of the car and pointed to the ancient door.
“Home?” he said gently.
Skylar watched him wave apologetically as he returned to the vehicle and drove off. Home. It looked like a halfway house in a bad section of town. He must have thought she had been staying there. With the hope that the building was a youth hostel, she
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