“Tonight will be our last sunset. You will never see me again.” Brandy whispered as she closed the door to the bedroom of the RV . She’s certain he did not hear her as he wrestled with Missy in front of the loud 50inch TV hanging from the trailer’s rafters. For a second, she wished everything could have been different, but it’s been ten years since they had first met - nothing has ever changed in a positive way. The situation only got worse. Now here she is, laying in a stranger’s bed, staring at the ceiling of a stranger’s RV trying to tally up the number of grooves in the stranger’s RV’s ceiling. Missy starts to bark in the living room, interrupting her mid-count.

“I’ve got to stop doing this - it’s time to leave him,” Brandy says to herself. How can she continue like this? On the run with a man who up until a few months ago only interacted with her for casual sex and pillow talk. Now they have been on the run together for nearly seven long months.

“If only I had got out of his car sooner,” she thought. A tear starts to form in the low of her eye. Brandy rolls her eyeballs up to prevent it from falling down. She swore that she would never shed another tear over this situation. It was her fault. She agreed to help him, like she had done plenty of times before. Did he ever care to return the favor? No. Did he ever reach out as a friend to offer a shoulder to cry on, or a helping hand? No. He doesn’t even know her birthday. So why did she agree to come with him in the first place?

What did she think would change about their situation? What does Brian even know about her - the real Brandy? Well, by now Brian has probably picked up on her stubbornness. She’s a straight-to-the-point kind of girl, so she never played any mental games with him (so she thought). He went as far as to describe her as “abrasive” earlier that morning as they ate cold pop tarts over their dining trays. It made her shift a little on her seat cushion - that word being used to describe her - but she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about that word. She did not want to feel offended. She did not want to show that any opinion he had of her effected her, but her gut told her it wasn’t a good thing.

Once breakfast was over, she grabbed her phone to find the exact definition:

“a•bra•sive: 2. (of a person or manner) showing little concern for the feelings of others; harsh.”

Harsh. The other synonyms did not help. It cut her deep. It crushed a bit of her spirit. How could a man who she obsessively tried to be considerate of characterize her in that way. Brian knew every inch of her body, but unlike her, he did not know her heart. It just made her think about all the times they have met together. She kept the secret. She listened to all his lies and the truths without judgement. All the while, he interpreted her truth as emptiness. Cold. Unemotional. He saw her as an inhumane. A personal blow-up doll. It was in that moment she realized that the physical intimacy meant nothing. It was all for nothing. She was nothing to him, while she risked everything to help him. While she held back her emotions because she did not think it was fair to unload all her feelings onto him. He didn’t ask for it so why would she tell him how much she cared? She’s always cared, she just never exposed her feelings in that way because it made her uncomfortable to give someone that much power over her. Still she was there…should she have to even say? Maybe it doesn’t even matter because he built an image of her that suited his narrative. He never was made to feel bad because she never made him feel bad about himself. He obviously did not concern himself with what made her feel bad. That’s when she finally realized it was time to let him go off on his own.

“Shhhh!” Brandy can hear Brian feed Missy some snacks. Brandy continues to stare at the ceiling until she dozes off - she never got to finish the count.

The next morning, Brandy wakes up before the Sun. She gathers her travel-sized toiletries and a few garments and stuffs them into her duffel bag. There was nearly no sound as she opened up the door to peek out into the RV living room. There he was - still asleep on the couch. Missy was snoring obnoxiously in her pen. Brandy was going to miss that damn dog.

In her rush to pack her things, she almost forgot the most important cargo. Brandy goes back to the bed and reaches under the mattress. She pulls out a Glock and stuffs it in her duffel. Brandy nearly walks out again when -

“Oh! That’s right”

Brandy turns back inside the bedroom. Inside the RV bedroom is a skinny door. Brandy slowly opens the door and cuts on the lights. A 26 year old, blindfolded woman is resting on the toilet. Her hair is disheveled. Both of her hands are tied behind her back. Her mouth has a gag in it.

“Hey! Hey - wake up, “ Brandy whispers to her. She gives the sleeping beauty a quick shake.

“It’s time to move. Now be very quiet or else-“

The woman in bondage nods feverishly. Brandy gently guided her out of the tiny bathroom and out of the bedroom. Both women slip out of the front door undetected.

Brandy guides the woman towards her dark gray Honda Accord. She pops the trunk.

The blind-folded woman starts to say something but the gag makes her damn near impossible to understand.

“What?! What is it?”

Brandy pulls the gag out of her mouth.

The captured woman starts to move her mouth around. As Brandy prods her, she takes deep breath and screams.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

Brandy punches the girl in her mouth knocking her out cold. After surveying the area to make sure no one was approaching, she hoists the 115lb girl into the trunk and shuts it. It took a lot out of her.

As she catches a her breathe, Brandy starts to test herself on the information she knows about her hostage. Samantha Pearson. DOB: June 15th, 1996. San Jose, CA. Height: 5’2”. Weight: 115Lbs. Bullshit.

Just as Brandy is ready to move, she hears a commotion coming from the RV. Missy is barking. That damn dog. Brandy hops in the driver’s seat and starts the car. She pulls off into the night. In her rear view mirror she sees the lights in the RV cut on before she turns out of the sparse RV park onto the main road.

Good Morning.

Goodnight.

Goodbye, Brian.