C9 Isabella's POV

Isabella's POV

Birds chirping outside and the sun beaming down on my face through an open window woke me up. It must have slipped my mind to shut it last night.

I squint my eyes open and scan the room, stopping only when I notice the open window.

The sun was shining, and I could just make out the sound of the neighbors chatting, mowing their lawns, and working in their gardens.

They thought it was a lovely summer morning, and I would have agreed had last night's events not brought up so many disturbing memories.

I attempt to scream, but all that comes out is a terribly dry shriek.

Yet another confirmation that last night was real.

I push my weary legs off the bed and get to my feet, only to groan and cling to the wall for support as the pain in my legs grows.

The only way I could get out of the dress Dorothy had forced me into was by ripping it off. The garment was two sizes too small, but Dorothy didn't seem to care.

I made an effort not to glance down while doing this, but it wasn't very successful because the moment I caught a peek of red, I couldn't help but look at the red detailing that hadn't been there before.

I had a bad, dirty, and violated feeling. And that came after I took the dress off and thoroughly cleaned my skin.

And I just saw it when I got out of the shower and looked at the girl in the mirror.

Her puffy, swollen eyes were dull and exhausted. Her pale, lifeless cheeks were hollow. And her filthy, painful body is really revolting to look at.

She looked horrifying, but that was simply the tip of what she was really feeling.

I made the decision that I didn't want to interact with that girl.

That's all it took, really.

It only took a moment for me to exit my restroom and enter my closet.

And that was all it took for me to gather my most crucial items and place them into both my duffel bag and backpack. My art tools, my inhaler, my phone, my first aid box, and a few miscellaneous outfits.

Three hundred dollars were in my possession. Since I had been saving for five years, I was confident that the sizable amount of money in my pocket would help me get by if my cunning alone couldn't.

Jonathan had every reason to flee.

My turn had come up.

I snuck out of my bedroom after it had grown dark, and when I finally arrived in the forest, I turned away from the clearing. I had discovered a map online, and it had taken me there to find the bus station.

I had to walk for almost four hours to get there, but once I did, I bought a bus ticket and boarded with the rest of the crowd.

"That will cost you 85 dollars, Miss."

I look up and in the direction of the driver of the vehicle. The number 85? How about eight and five? My heart is heaving as I ask, and I'm down to my last few dollars.

Back in the Outpost, prices were never quite this high.

I had spent all the money I had saved over the course of five years in just twenty-four hours on two things. A bus fare and the current cost of a cab ride around New York, a sizable city.

I cast a quick glance at the $100 I am holding. I had barely eaten because I was worried I wouldn't have enough money to get here, and now that I was here, I wanted to scream since I would only have fifteen dollars left over.

The man sighs and pivots in his chair, offering me a hesitant smile. "Hear me, girl. I can tell you are not a local, allow me to assist you.

I sigh in relief as a smile spreads across my face. I had a difficult 24 hours; therefore, I needed some kindness.

I hadn't been able to get any sleep during the twelve-hour trip since I was too preoccupied observing everything around me. However, I had not encountered many people who were particularly nice during my extensive travels.

His generosity touched me. I watch his hand as he reaches back and hurriedly grabs the hundred dollar bill out of it, saying, "Thank you so much, It's Out here, your tip." He then smiled at me and raised the bill. So this will work.

"What? No!" I exclaim as another car honks its horn in our direction.

"Get out of here, you piece of trash!" The horns continue to honk after the man shouts from his window. It became so awful that I had to scurry out of the tiny yellow car that they call a cab and onto the street while carrying my things.

I watch in fear as the man drives off and nearly collides with two cars before I can do anything.

Even though I had just arrived, I had officially run out of money.

I follow the taxi down the incredibly crowded street with a sad heart, and when it drifts to my surroundings, I can't believe what I'm seeing.

Being too focused on attempting to call Jonathan, who had still not picked up my calls, I hadn't had time throughout the voyage to look around.

But now that I was staring up at the numerous buildings all around me, I paused to fully appreciate the scene.

I was undoubtedly far from home.

Huge buildings stretched across the sky and towered above everyone. Standing tall and commanding while throngs of people rushed past me, apparently unaware that there were magnificent examples of architecture all around them.

My focus shifts back to the area in front of me after receiving a sharp prod to the shoulder, and my eyes enlarge when I notice the storefront's sign.

South Street Shawarma, then a further row of alphabetic foreign symbols.

The precise store is shown in the picture I received from Jonathan months ago. Since I didn't know where he lived, I looked through our virtual chat history to find a picture of his favorite restaurant after he indicated that it was just a few blocks from his home.