The bus's headlights provided only fleeting views of the dark, expansive terrain in front of it as it rattled along the highway.
Joan saw the city lights go down in the distance while she sat close to the rear, leaning against the window, her heart racing.
A mixture of comfort and concern simmered in her chest as she encircled herself with her arms.
For now, at least, she was free. Every mile that separated her from Mark and every second she spent on this bus was a success.
It didn't matter anymore that she hadn't determined what to do next. At last, she was stepping forward, out of his reach. That's what she believed, anyhow.
Meanwhile, Mark was in a downward spiral.
The final scene of the security film, which showed Joan sneaking out of the home with just a tiny bag and her face fixed in an inscrutable, determined look, made his heart race.
