The Escapee

         She turned the knob of the door and shut it behind her.  The door gave out a terrible squeak like an injured cat.  She automatically slipped off her maroon kitten heels before walking any further.  Wiping the tears out of her eyes, she squinted, trying to get used to her bearings.  The room was pitch black.  Looking for a light switch, the woman groped about the wall.  It was cold and rough, and sent chills down her spine.  She wondered what had touched this unpleasant wall and moved her hand away.  Knowing she couldn’t see in such darkness, she slowly moved her fingers against the wall and flicked on the switch.  She now realized why the lights had been turned off: the room was a wreck. 
         Dragging her feet across the worn brown carpet, she made her way to the bed and threw herself down, sighing.  The room smelled of cheap cigars and sweat, and made her gag slightly.  She wondered what this room had seen, and quickly shook the thoughts out of her head.  As her eyes traced the dirty walls, she saw no windows and sighed.  The stuffiness of the room already had her nauseous, and the images she had in her head of what happened in here didn’t help at all.
         Closing her eyes, she tried her best to clear her mind.  The well-worn bed was surprisingly comfortable, despite the questionable stains on the yellowed sheets.  The bed gave her a moment of comfort as she rolled over on her stomach.  A whirlwind of worries swelled in her stomach as she idly fingered the gold bracelet on her wrist.  How long would she have to stay here?  When would things ever go back to normal again? 
         Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she remembered how peaceful it all used to be.  Knowing that things would get worse before they got better, she sighed, holding her head in her hands.  She didn’t want to look around her.  She did not want to see the sad state she was in.  She did not want to admit that it had fallen apart.  The woman stared up at the ceiling, full of misery.  Why her?  Why now?
         She shook the thoughts from her head suddenly.  Now was not the time to pity herself.  It would only make things worse.  She sat up and rubbed the wrinkles out of her skirt.  She had to make her own luck.  That was all there was to it.  She would make things get better on her own.  Yes, she hated what was going on right now, but for the moment, there was not much she could do about it.  She sighed and stared at the worn pillows.  This place was still better than going back home ever again.