6 years ago:

I run. Through the surprisingly empty hallway, through the door, through the forest. Towards my freedom. My well-deserved freedom that was taken from me.

Despite the fact that from behind me I can hear yelling of my name, and the screams for me to stop, the warnings that it's pointless to run, I keep running. I get up every time I fall. I ignore all the pain I feel radiating throughout my body. I refuse to stop until I get there.

An hour later and I'm here.

My hideout.

I shut the front door, bolt all five locks, check all the windows are shut and bolted, then I collapse right where I stand.

After what felt like an eternity, it hit me...

Is it still here?

Did they find it?

I rush to look, only to stand up too quickly and have all the pain hit me at once. Clutching to the wall and the minimal amount of furniture, I'm able to get to the safe without hurting too much. I sigh in relief when I see that it's still here. They didn't find it.

In my head, I plan my getaway. I have to get as far away from here as possible. Somewhere discreet enough that I won't get found. Somewhere that I can disappear. After getting my plan sorted, I head off to get some well needed sleep, and hope I can get rid of as much of this pain as possible.

18 hours.

I slept for 18 hours!

I guess being beaten senseless, being sleep deprived, and only eating two crappy meals in a week will do that to you when you follow the same routine for months upon months. 4 to be exact. 4 months of being beaten. Three months of being raped. Two months of being sliced open with small, yet painful cuts.

I shudder off the horrible memories and get out my emergency kit. My outfit, my wig, and my shoes. All black; a long, straight, black wig, a black vest, a black leather jacket, black ripped -but not too ripped- jeans, and black combat boots. Very un-Cass. But that was the point of a disguise. Somewhat satisfied, I take a well-needed shower. I hadn't exactly had the luxury to have one in the past 4 months.

Once I'm out, I change into my disguise. As I get to the door, I look around the studio room. I had so many horrid memories here. So many times, that I would cry because of him. Because of his abuse, because of his 'lifestyle'. I sigh, not wanting to waste anymore tears on someone who cares so little about anyone but himself. I'm not taking anything with me, I'm leaving everything except for it, nothing here has any meaning anymore. Everything can be replaced.

I leave for the airport with my fake passport and pray that I don't get caught. I really can't have them knowing I'm here. Them knowing means he knows. And if he knows, I may as well be dead. I hide my relief when I'm cleared and leave for my plane.

Cassandra Voronovo is leaving Russia. She is no longer the fun, loving, care-free Cass. She was now Cassie Clarke. I'm leaving Russia as Cassie, and I'm never coming back, regardless of what anyone calls me. As I board the plane, I mutter under my breathe to myself,

"Italy, here I come..."