The Difference You Have Made (SAMPLE)

Chapter 1 - The Escape

Quickly the grin falls as a nearly pained groan sounds from her mouth. The disheartening reminder that she's without transportation flashes in her mind. Again she paces as she thinks of a way around the hole in her plan. This situation will not be the end of her. She will not die at the hands of a cowardly man like Tyson. She will escape, even if she has to walk to her first glimpse of freedom.

An idea strikes her. It's Wednesday which means her neighbor, Derrick, is at home. She sends him a text message asking for a ride. If he says no, she'll have to use Uber or Lyft which will diminish the little bit of money in her bank account, but it'll be worth it if she gets the job. If being the operative word. There's no doubt in her mind that several women have already applied for the role. The perfect candidate is probably being interviewed at this very moment. Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe it'll be a waste of time. Maybe I should wait for another opportunity to come along.

Like a sign from above, her cell phone chimes with a new message.

Derrick: Sure, I can drive you.

She rushes to the one bathroom in the apartment that is located in the dank hallway. She doesn't need to shower, but she does need to apply some makeup. There's a fresh mark on her cheek that will raise questions and cause concern if anyone sees it. The last thing she wants to do is attract unnecessary attention.

It's almost ironic that she didn't wear makeup except on special occasions before she met Tyson. At first, he told her he liked that the way it enhanced her beauty. She was willing to do anything to please him, so she watched several YouTube videos to learn how to perfectly apply foundation, concealer, and everything else. Makeup became a daily part of her routine sometime after the first time Tyson hit her. The mark on her face couldn't be hidden with a hairstyle, so she wore makeup. By the time it faded away, he had created another one.

The dark memory causes a lump to form in her throat. She shakes her head to clear it away and looks in the cracked mirror. It's cracked from one of Tyson's belligerent rants about how she's unappreciative of everything he does for her. What does he do for me besides yell and hit me? Her head hangs and her shoulders lower with defeated tension. No, not today. Steal resolve fills her.

Her dark chocolate hair is worn loose in its naturally large curls to curtain her sullen face. Her hooded jade eyes lack life. Her usually round cheeks are nearly sunken. She doesn't look like a potential childcare provider. She looks like a potential patient in someone's intensive care unit. She inhales sharply while looking at her distorted reflection. The woman looking back at her is broken and tired. That is not who she is. Not anymore. On an exhale, her lips pull into a timid grin. She doesn't know how to genuinely smile anymore. These days she never has a reason to do something like that. The grin pulling on her bow-shaped lips is unnatural. Hopefully, the interviewer will chalk it up to nerves.

She owns one pair of black slacks. They're slightly faded and there's a hole in the right leg that she sewed up the last time she wore them nearly two years ago. She needs to look professional which means she either has to wear nice pants or a dress. The fading bruise on her lower thigh will be nearly impossible to hide if she wears a dress, so the pants are the obvious choice. She pairs them with a purple blouse that has quarter-sleeves and a crew neckline. Her plain black faux leather pumps complete the look.

Her printed resume is stashed in the top right drawer of the vanity dresser. It's been there since yesterday when she first saw the ad. She retrieves it, along with her small black purse, and walks out of the apartment into the hallway. Derrick, a tall and untraditionally handsome man with skin the color of cocoa and round mocha eyes, patiently waits by the rickety staircase.