by Jamie Canosa
Praise for Fight or Flight
“Jamie Canosa’s Fight or Flight was an amazing read! It drew me in from the very first page and I instantly felt for the characters and what they were going through. It’s definitely a must read for fans of new adult contemporary.”
-Jessica Sorensen, author of The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden and The Secret of Ella and Micha.
“Fight or Flight is a love story set in the darkest places, a novel that drags you in the middle of it and doesn’t let you go until you reach the end. Jamie Canosa describes the emotions in such manner, that you find yourself feeling the same amount of pain and fear as the characters.”
-Amina Black, Reading, Living, and Reviewing
“Touching and heartwarming, I found myself unable to put the book down, and when I did I couldn't stop thinking about Em and Jay. You won't want to miss this romantic adventure!”
-Cindy Bennett, Author of Rapunzel Untangled
“This story is an intense, fast flowing, well-written, heart stopping, emotional read.”
-Sam, Passionate About Books
"Another absolutely amazing book from the wonderful, Jamie Canosa! As soon as I started reading Fight or Flight I honestly couldn't put it down! Jay and Em as a couple and Fight or Flight are definitely on my favourites list!"
-Kendall, Book Crazy
“This is a story about two broken people who just wanted to have a better life. Jay and Em tugged my heart. They were both willing to risk everything for the other. Their story could really happen these days.”
-Denice, Books Mystify
Fight
Or
Flight
JamieCanosa
Fight or Flight
Jamie Canosa
©Jamie Canosa 2013
Cover Design: Sarah Hansen
Cover ©Jamie Canosa 2013
68 80 71 82 79 85 80 32 69 88 67 76 85 83 73 86 69
ISBN-13: 978-1482695694
ISBN-10: 1482695693
All Rights Reserved
USA
Dear Reader,
Em and Jay’s story is a work of fiction. Unfortunately, the horrors they each faced are all too real. While the decisions they made may have brought these two characters together, often the choice to run from your problems can be difficult and outright dangerous.
If you are facing problems similar to anything Em or Jay faced, please tell someone. A friend, a family member, a teacher, a counselor. Someone. It is never okay and it is never your fault.
If you feel uncomfortable speaking with someone in person you can call the National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD, or RAINN (Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network) any time at 1-800-656-HOPE, or go online to http://www.rainn.org/get-help/national-sexual-assault-online-hotline.
Please be safe, be strong, and know there are people who care.
With love and hope,
Jamie
Other books by Jamie Canosa
Dissidence
Heart and Soul series:
Temptation
Devotion
Our Own Worst Enemies
How We Came to Be
Prologue
Emerson
Emerson’s feet pounded the sidewalk, through puddles, across streets, around corners, and down alleys. She didn’t stop. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t know where she was going or if anyone was actually chasing her. She just needed to get away. Away from the threat of being sent back. Back to him. As far away as she could get.
When her legs shook from exhaustion and she couldn’t get enough oxygen to breathe, she finally slowed, ducking into a particularly dark alley and collapsing against a graffitied wall.
Above her, the dark sky cracked. In the abrupt flash of light she could see the ripples flowing through the numerous puddles spanning the length of the alley. The next flash highlighted the puddle at her feet. She gazed towards the ground, watching the small droplets of rain drip from the ends of her hair and fall into the pool of water in a daze. The night air had cooled to a temperature seasonally low even for fall months, and slight shivers ran down her spine.
Rocking back on her heels, Emerson looked up into the dark night sky, allowing the rain drops to stream down her face and mingle with her tears. What was she doing here? Was she just lying to herself that she could do this? That this was the answer? Was there an answer for her at all? Did she even deserve one?
A siren’s high-pitched wail pierced the steady pounding of the rain, and as the flashing lights grew nearer the noise overpowered the thunderous sounds of the night. The alley filled with flashes of blue light, and she knew she had to keep moving. There would be no rest for her here.
Chapter One
Emerson
She’d spent hours with the rocker creaking softly beneath her, as she swayed back and forth, watching the moonlight cut a slow, deliberate path across the hardwood floor of her bedroom.
When the sun’s first rays of golden light pierced her window, they lit up the walls like fire, announcing, in all of its triumphant glory, the moment she’d been waiting for. It was now or never, and never was no longer an option she could live with.
Her body was tense with the combination of nerves and sitting in one position for too long, as she extricated herself from the chair. The hard wood seat and straight backing weren’t comfortable by a long shot, but then again that had been the whole point. She couldn’t risk accidentally falling asleep. She never would have woken on time, and an alarm was out of the question.
Silently padding across the room, she snatched her backpack from the bed and hooked it over her shoulders on the way to the door. It was heavy, but that was a good thing. It meant she was well packed. She’d been working at it for days, collecting food, clothes, and as much money as she could get her hands on—fifty two dollars and eighty three cents. It wasn’t much, but she was determined to make it work.
Every sound—the click of the doorknob, the swish of her socks on the hallway carpeting—echoed in her ears. A blaring announcement of her disobedience for all the world to hear. But if he heard . . . God help her.
Air locked firmly in her lungs—not even daring to breathe—she took the stairs cautiously, one at a time. Eyes and ears trained on his door for any sign he was about to barge out and stop her. She’d been so careful. So careful for so long. She couldn’t blow it now. Not when she was so close.
The key to success was skipping the third to last step, which had creaked for as long as she could remember. Once she eased herself over it, it was clear sailing. Her boots were already waiting for her just outside the coat closet, where she’d left them the night before. They weren’t exactly stylish, but they were warm and durable, and they were going to have to last a while. She slipped them on and took one last look around. One would think that leaving behind the only home you’ve ever known would be difficult. It wasn’t.
Outside, the morning sun was just peeking over the horizon when she shut the door behind her. She’d chosen the early hour for several reasons, but mostly to avoid prying eyes. It was a small town, the kind of place where no one had any qualms sticking their noses into other people’s business and gossip practically floated on the breeze. In a matter of hours, she was going to be the new hot topic for the rumor mill and if anyone saw anything at all the entire town would know by noon. He would know. She couldn’t let that happen. Her entire survival depended on escaping without notice, something more easily accomplished at dawn on a Saturday.
Fifteen minutes later, her planning paid off. The train station doors swung open on automatic sensors, revealing a vacant space. The only sounds at all came from the automated PA system announcing times and destinations, and a few sleepy voices from the ticket counter around the corner.
Even here it was likely that someone would recognize her. Thankfully, there were electronic ticket machines and technology didn’t tattle.
Feeding the white, hulking monstrosity seventeen dollars and fifty three cents, she typed in her destination and listened to it whirl and sputter for nearly a full minute before it finally spit out her ticket to freedom. The time on the ticket read 6:37. One glance at the station clock told her it was nearly time, 6:28. She hustled through the station house, keeping her long hair draped carefully across her face, toward platform B.
The train chugged into the station at precisely 6:37 and before the doors had even finished opening all the way—before she could change her mind—she squeezed on board. This was it. No turning back. Her life was about to change forever. For better or worse, though, it was a necessary change.
The train car had two other occupants, both of whom appeared to be sleeping. An older man wearing a suit had his briefcase leaning against the window, which he was using as a makeshift pillow. Not the most comfortable looking arrangement, but it seemed to be working for him. The other passenger looked about her age, maybe a little older. His jean-clad legs were draped across the seat beside him and his back was pressed to the window. She couldn’t make out much of his face with his hood pulled up, but his eyes were definitely closed and the telltale, thin white cords dangling from his ears told her he probably wouldn’t be hearing anything either.
Stumbling ungracefully as the train abruptly jerked into motion, she took her cue and found a seat in the far back corner. After settling her bag beside her, she peered through the window as the train pulled out of the station. The tracks ran alongside town for a ways and then turned and cut through it. Two men were outside the post office raising the flag. Next door was old Mr. Frank’s house. Children still told scary stories about it and dared one another to trick-or-treat there on Halloween. Funny how no one ever realized that the true horror house in town had been hers.
As the train crossed Main Street, her eyes scanned over the many store fronts that weren’t yet open for business. The florist, the bakery, the bank, the grocery store, and the pizzeria. All places she’d known and frequented her entire life. She took them all in—committing them to memory—as though she would never see any of them again. And if everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t.
Just beyond Main Street, the tracks entered a patch of woods that led away from her town, her home, and everything she knew. But that was the only way. The only way to escape was to leave it all behind. She took a deep breath and held it for a few moments to calm her racing heart. She could do this. She had to do this
***
“Final stop . . . must disembark . . . layover . . . platform D . . .” She jerked awake to the sound of the defunct announcement. The words were barely audible over all of the crackling and hissing the ancient speakers were doing, but she got the gist of it. This was her stop. For now.
Grabbing her pack, she followed the others out onto the platform. A few more passengers had boarded while she slept, but none of them gave her a second glance. She was completely invisible here. Exactly the way she wanted it.
This station was larger and way more modern than the one back home. Just above the ticket counter hung a large digital board, flashing with locations and times. They cycled through so quickly she had to stand there for several rotations before she caught sight of her destination. The train that would take her the rest of the way would be arriving on platform F in just about three hours.
Her stomach growled as she roamed the concourse reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She knew it was something she’d have to get used to, but for now, today had been hard enough already. A small deli stand had a selection of day old items for fifty cents. She picked out a half turkey sandwich and handed over some of her carefully procured change.
She’d read somewhere that it was possible to live on only a dollar a day. She had no idea how that was possible—especially since lunch alone had just cost her half that—but she was going to have to figure it out. If she could swing it, then she’d be set for about a month with what she had left.
Tearing the bread apart into tiny pieces to make it last longer, she took her time, savoring each bite.
Inevitably, she finished the slightly slimy sandwich and settled on a bench to wait. Over the next three hours, she dozed on and off, never allowing herself to relax enough to get any real rest. When the announcement that her train was finally pulling into the station came over the PA, she breathed a sigh of relief. The combination of stress and a sleepless night were starting to weigh on her.
Sliding into another window seat, she paid no attention to the others around her. She was far enough from home now that it was highly unlikely she’d recognize any of them.
“Ticket?” A man in a blue vest and cap stood in the aisle, looking bored and impatient.
“Oh, right.” She fished in her bag and pulled out the thick piece of paper.
“Do you have ID?”
Next, she pulled out her brown leather wallet and slipped out the non-driver state ID she’d been issued a year earlier. As she turned to hand it to the man, her elbow caught the strap of the bag and up-ended it. Clothing, cash, and the odd toiletry scattered across the floor and under the seat. Instead of offering to help, the ticket guy glanced at her ID with an exasperated sigh and then shoved it back at her along with the punched ticket.
Scrambling to keep everything together, she snagged the ID and ticket from the man and shoved them both into the back pocket of her jeans. She had to crawl on hands and knees along the floor between the seats in order to diligently collect every last cent that had rolled away. Not exactly the ideal start to the next leg of the journey that she’d been hoping for.
When she was certain she had everything stuffed back inside the bag, she collapsed into her seat again. It was going to be a long day. It had already been a long day. The train rolled out of the station and smoothly picked up speed until trees and houses where little more than distortions on the landscape. She watched them all fly by for a while in a mind numbing blur, before the hypnotizing repetitiveness and soft rocking of the train car lulled her to sleep.
She didn’t rouse again until someone poked her shoulder. Blinking away residual sleep, she looked up at the man who had checked her ticket earlier.
“Your stop.”
“Huh?”
“This is your stop. You getting off or you want to buy another ticket?”
“Oh . . . um . . . no. I’m getting off. Sorry.” She scooped up her bag and pushed past Mr. Personality, out on to the crowded platform.
This time she exited onto an indoor platform and had to give her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. There were people . . . everywhere. Everyone pushing and shoving to get to where they were going. They all moved with purpose. No one strolled or lingered. It was a city’s worth of people constantly in motion, not taking even a moment to notice the person right beside them. It looked like paradise. Perfect anonymity. Freedom.
She’d made it, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could actually breathe. How long it would last or where she would go from there, only time could tell. Her plan sort of ended when she stepped off of the train. Now she was making it up as she went along.
The station was enormous. The concourse lined with shop after shop so that it looked more like a mall than a train station. Bodies flowed all around her in a continuous stream, making her feel like a rock in the middle of a river. She took a couple steps, but quickly realized she didn’t have a clue where she was going. She didn’t even know how to get out of the building. In the center of the concourse stood a large round table, covered in a variety of folded paper maps. That looked like as good a place as any to start.
Beside it stood an industrial sized metal trash can, the kind that always reeked because they’re so huge you just know the trash on the bottom must have been sitting there for days. Heaving her pack on to the table with
a loud thud, she rooted through balled up shirts, pants, even underwear before her fingers closed over the soft leather of her wallet.
Everything she had was in there. Not her money—that was tucked carefully into a side pocket of her bag—but old pictures, insurance cards, social security cards, everything that made her who she was. Who she used to be. With a sudden overwhelming sense of independence and autonomy, she dropped the wallet and all of its contents, watching as it disappeared into the dark recesses of the garbage can.
Goodbye, Emerson James.
Chapter Two
Jay
It was another day just like every other day. A huge pain in the ass. But things could be worse; Jay knew that for a fact because things had been worse. No one chose this life without having known something worse first. Not for long, anyway. Occasionally, some bad-ass wannabe would show up thinking this was all some kind of adventure. A game. They were wrong. It never took them long to figure it out, though, and go running back home to mommy and daddy with their tails between their legs.
He scrounged around the station looking for something to eat. There were usually pretty decent pickings here, especially at this time. Rush hour. All of those people in too much of a hurry to really finish anything they were eating or drinking. Discarded coffee was almost a given and this morning he could really use it. It had been a particularly rough night.
Jay usually didn’t notice other people. Unless they appeared to be a direct threat, they tended to slip through his life like background noise. But something about her made him stop and stare. She was pretty enough—in an ordinary sort of way—but he’d seen his fair share of models and even a few celebrities strolling the sidewalks of the big city. There was something about her, though.
