The Mancini Saga (Book #1) I.O.U.

by April M. Reign

  It was time to say goodbye to her family, time to trade in the only life she knew for an attempt at the unknown. Mia trembled at the thought of being alone in a free world that she was not sure existed, but she shuddered from fear, far greater, when she thought of being married to their sadistic, controlling leader. She decided to follow the lesser of two evils, and try to escape if she could. The unknown world outside the Compound was a better life than the known world; inside these walls, the constant unquestioning obedience suffocated her life and doomed her to becoming the tenth wife of an old, crazy man who would own her body and control her every action.

  She stood over Kyle’s bed and watched him sleep. He lay there like a sleeping angel, his breathing pleasant and easy. She hated waking him from his sound sleep, but she would not leave until she told him of her plan.

  “Kyle, honey, wake up.”

  “Is it morning, sissy?” he groggily asked, as he sat up in bed, running the back of his hand over his eyes.

  “No, sweetheart, it’s still night. I need you to listen to me.” She pulled him close and took a deep breath. “I’m going away for a little while, but I’m going to come back for you, okay?”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know, but I promise you, I will be back. Just be a good boy and don’t get in any trouble.” She forced a smile.

  “Okay, Mia.” Kyle hugged his sister and fell back into bed, letting his head hit the pillow. He immediately slipped back into a deep sleep, breathing easily again.

  Mia stared at his perfect face, trying to memorize every detail about him. She had no photos of him or her family to take with her because James prohibited cameras on the compound grounds. Unfortunately, she would have to rely on her memory.

  After a few moments, she started to leave Kyle’s room, lingering in the doorway, her back toward him. She wanted to turn around and run back to his bedside, and hug him one last time, but she refused to turn around. She would have taken Kyle with her, but she had no idea if life outside the walls was more dangerous than within them. She couldn’t risk his life, too. She stepped outside the front door and started on her journey alone.

  The grounds felt deserted at such an early hour. With no streetlights to help her navigate, she had to rely on the moon and stars to give her light. Unfortunately, they were hiding behind a thin layer of clouds. While she ran through the dirt roads, across the green fields, and zigzagged between tall trees, she wondered if evil really did lurk beyond the walls, if the world was exactly as James had preached—or if she would confirm her suspicions that he was a liar.

  The closer she got to the cinder-brick wall, the more anxious she became. Her heart pounded fast, her breathing became shallow; she was close enough to smell freedom. One man-made wall was the barrier between her and a life with choices.

  A weathered, wooden guard shack sat alone near the inside compound gate. An appointed guard leaned back in a chair, his feet propped up on a shelf. In his hands, he held a compound-approved novel, which he read by candlelight.

  Mia slowed her pace, careful not to make a noise. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, making it easier for her to see through the night. Each step brought her closer to freedom—closer to a world she had never seen. She narrowed her eyes, watching the guard closely as she tiptoed through the dirt and grass.

  Fixated on the guard’s every move, Mia failed to watch where she stepped. She felt her foot land on something hard, but it was not until the branch cracked under her foot, echoing through the night, that Mia froze. The guard looked up from his book, his head snapping up, startled.

  She panicked, quickly searching for a place to hide. Standing in an open field, Mia dove to the ground, hoping that her black clothing would keep her concealed. Her face pressed firmly against the dirt, she tried to flatten her body. Sucking in air, she held her breath.

  The guard picked up the candle and walked outside his wooden office. He cautiously walked in her direction, noticing a dark shadow in the dirt. He hesitated for only a second before he continued to walk toward her.

  Mia squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, pressing her face hard against the dirt floor. His footsteps echoed in her ears while his heavy breathing quickened her pounding heart. She slowly reached into her pocket, moving with utter caution. She felt the tip of the steak knife, taken from the kitchen, and slid it into the front pocket of her jeans.

  Without warning, a loud noise echoed from the forest trees behind the shack. Mia slid the knife out of her pocket and held it tight against her body. The guard stopped and turned, his hand clenched at his side. Confused at where the noise originated, his heavy steps started in the other direction. Mia slowly lifted her head from the filthy dirt, and laid her ear on the ground, opening her eyes, watching him move farther away from her.

  She did not move, slowly slipping the knife back in her pocket, she let out her held breath. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought, for sure, the guard could feel the ground moving beneath his feet. When he disappeared into the large, distinguished forest, Mia pushed her body up onto her knees.

  She quickly crawled toward the massive, solid-metal gate set between two concrete pillars, and gently pushed the door open as far as the industrial chain would go. She slid her leg through the crack and sucked in her already slim figure to push the rest of her body through the slit. With all her might, she pulled and maneuvered her head until it managed to squeeze through the opening.

  She quickly reached down and tugged at her backpack, but it would not budge. She unzipped it and pulled out some of the bulk. She threw out a couple bottles of water, a pair of shoes, and jeans. Then she yanked the backpack, which held a few of her belongings, through the slit.

  Her heart raced out of control. She pressed her back against the brick wall and slid down until her butt hit the ground. She had made it. She sat on the other side of the wall, looking at a part of the world she had never seen. Nothing evil waited for her, nothing, but the chance to live her own life. She put her head in her hands and cried—no laughed—then, both at the same time.

  Chapter Two

  Mia sat with her back against the cold, brick wall, trying to pull enough energy from deep within to stand and start her journey alone. She was struggling with mixed emotions. Immense pleasure at being outside the compound prison was overshadowed by the emptiness she felt in leaving her family behind—not to mention the fear she struggled with when she realized that, no matter where she went, she would be alone.

  With her fingers pressed against her eyes, Mia wiped down her face to dry her tears. It was time to be tough and take the first step toward her new life. She pushed herself up and started walking. Clueless of where she was going, all she knew was that she wanted to run as far away from the religious fanatics as possible.

  One foot in front of the next, she strolled down the open, asphalt highway. From time to time, she sat to rest her feet, but she did not stay in one place for long. Once her parents knew she was missing, someone might go searching for her—and being “rescued” by the Compound was the last thing she wanted.

  When a truck pulled over and the driver asked if she needed a ride, Mia gladly accepted. She had no concept of the possible dangers she had just put herself in. She had no street-sense, considering that she was sheltered for sixteen years. Fortunately, for her, the driver was an honest man.

  “Where to?” asked the burly man with the kind eyes.

  “Away from here,” Mia replied, trying to quell the growing fear within her. She just wanted away from the destruction of the Compound.

  “I’ve seen a lot of runaways in my day. I’ll help you, but you must have some sort of plan. Do you?”

  “Um . . .” Mia’s brain scrambled. He was right, she had been so impulsive, she did not think beyond the point of escaping to the other side of the wall. Even as she was walking along the highway, emotions and memories filled her, rather than logical plans.

  As she was trying to come up with something i
ntelligent, her fingers caressed her lucky charm—little Lady Liberty—in her pocket. A flash of inspiration filled her.

  “New York! Are you heading to New York City?”

  “I sure am. You’re in luck, little lady.”

  Mia smiled to herself at the driver’s reference. She believed that her miniature statue was her lucky charm.

  “Y’know, kid, what you just did was awfully dangerous.”

  Mia was suddenly worried. “Really?”

  “Hell, yeah! You don’t know me at all. I could be one crazy loon or a pervert. Never do this again!”

  Mia was confused, scared, and grateful, all at the same time. She did not know what to think or what to say. This was all so new. Maybe this running away thing was not a good idea. Then she thought about the alternative and decided she would never think that way again.

  “Ya know, my wife was a runaway once, just like you.”

  Mia was shocked. It must have showed on her face.

  “Yup, she sure was. I met her soon after she left home. I know the great woman she has become, raisin’ our kids an’ all. So, people do deserve a second chance, especially if the place you left wasn’t a good one.”

  Mia nodded her head in agreement. The driver was a kind man. Years later, she would wag her head in disbelief at just how lucky she had been at this moment.

  Fortunately, for Mia, the driver who called himself Eddie began to divulge a litany of pointers on how to survive the streets. Eddie was not in the business of taking in kids, but he knew a lot from his wife’s stories. He might as well share the wealth of knowledge on urban survival skills. Mia tried her best to remember everything, but she was tired and overwhelmed.

  By the time that the sun had risen past the horizon, her stomach was demanding breakfast. The trucker stopped at the far end of the parking lot to a building where he was going to offload his cargo.

  “Okay, kid, end of the line,” the driver said. His words fell on deaf ears. Mia did not hear the truck driver’s statement. She also forgot about her growling stomach. She was speechless at the hustle and bustle before her very eyes.

  She slowly stepped down from the truck and onto the paved ground of Manhattan. She had never seen anything like it. She had dreamed of it, but never realized what it was really like. Her wide-eyed stare and open mouth made the trucker look in the same direction she was looking in, thinking there was an astounding sight to see.

  She was completely oblivious to the truck driver waiting, now impatiently, for her to take her backpack and close his door. Slightly irritated, he pushed her backpack out of his truck. Mia’s head snapped down when she heard the thud on the ground. Without taking her eyes off the city in front of her, she closed the trucker’s door and leaned down to pick up her backpack, swinging it onto her back.

  For the first time in hours, she let her mind go blank and smiled. She marveled at the strange, flowing world in front of her. Men, women, and children scurried on the busy streets—a harmonious flow she had never seen before.

  Mia gawked at the enormous, historic buildings that stood high into the sky—so high that they appeared to touch the bottom of the clouds. She stood completely still with her backpack on her back and her head tilted as far back as it could go to stare at the buildings around her. She turned in a circle to look with awe upon the vast and pronounced buildings. The world in front of her was the epitome of beauty and harmony. There was more to see and admire on one single corner than there was on the entire Compound grounds.

  When Mia finally tore her stare from the buildings and skies, she noticed an endless stream of vehicles crammed in lines up and down the chaotic streets. They were jostling for space that did not seem to exist, darting from one lane to the next. The cars on the bustling streets reminded her of the bees in the hives at the Compound: always moving, buzzing, and humming with non-stop life.

  There was so much to take in. Truck engines bellowed, horns honked, sirens blared on a distant street. Three colorful lights centered at the end of poles flicked from green to yellow and then red. She stood with her thumbs beneath the straps of her backpack and stared at the signal lights for five minutes. She noticed that a sign would tell people when it was safe to walk across a street. When it said “Walk,” she did so. When a bicyclist almost ran her down, she pulled her gaze from the streetlights and realized that she needed to stay out of the way, that it was up to her to guard her own safety, not for other people to make way for her.

  Mia walked leisurely down the street of Manhattan. There were so many people—and they were all different. Some had long hair, others wore their hair short, and everyone had on different clothing with different styles. This world was so bright and colorful, so different and expressive.

  One thing after another stole her attention and each thing seemed greater than the last. What stopped her in her tracks was a fascinating clothing store full of people. Mia watched as men and women walked into those clothing stores to look around at the displayed glitz and glamour. No sooner did they walk in, they were walking out with bags full of purchased items. She had never seen anything like it. Mia watched with painstaking awareness at her own hand-me-down clothes. She had no money, which meant that she would not know the feeling of walking in the store empty handed, and then walking out with bags of merchandise.

  The sad realization that she was stuck with her own clothes began to drag her down until seconds later, a sweet, delectable aroma wafted through the air. Mia looked around for the source of the tantalizing smell. When she followed the scent to a closed restaurant door, she did not hesitate to push it open and go inside. She stood completely still with her mouth agape. Sitting together—under one roof—were multitudes of families, eating breakfast. The chaos of the restaurant made Mia step back while she watched closely. Men and women held large, round trays over their heads with several plates of food. They gracefully brought the plates of breakfast orders to tables and set the food in front of each person.

  Mia’s stomach grumbled out in protest at the emptiness it was suffering. When a young girl approached Mia with a plastic flyer and asked how many there were in her party, she panicked and ran out the front door, right into a woman carrying a briefcase.

  “Watch it!” the woman snapped, but Mia continued down the street, not losing her momentum.

  She ran three blocks before she slowed down and stopped. She found shade near a building, and sat down on the hard ground. Hunger had overwhelmed her senses. She reached into her backpack, and broke off a piece of thick, homemade bread. She nibbled her food while she leaned back and watched people walk past her—oblivious to her existence.

  Even amid her sudden fear and loneliness, it was a breath of fresh air to know that this world was nothing like James had preached. Mia smiled at the fact that she was breathing that fresh air with rebellious fervor.

  By nightfall, she had found a place to sleep. In a deserted corner of Central Park—the largest garden in the world, it seemed—she slid into a small void between two bushes, and pulled her legs up to her chest. She held her bag close to her body while she tuned out the scary noises of the night. Her head slowly began to fall forward until her forehead rested gently on her knees. Mia’s eyes willingly closed from exhaustion. Tonight, she slept, for the first time, as a free young woman.

  ***

  Mia fought to keep her shoulders back rather than let them slump over in defeat. She missed her family, and the streets of New York had drained her energy. She was hungry and her feet were blistered and sore from walking.

  In the three long weeks that she had been away from the Compound, she had become a thief—albeit an honest thief. She had no choice. Things did not work out the way she thought they might, and she needed food and shelter.

  Her hunger pangs were stronger than her conscience. This prompted her to steal the one-meal-a-day that she ate. At first, after she finished rationing the bread she brought with her from the Compound, she struggled without eating for two days. She could feel herse
lf becoming weak. After a few days of eating from trash thrown on the sidewalks, she needed more. She needed nutrition, but more importantly, she needed her dignity back.

  Mia knew her situation was becoming desperate. The morals that she held dear were in conflict with her drive to survive. She wrestled with her conscience. She made the decision to do the only thing she could to satisfy both sides of her: for every item she took, for every meal she stole, Mia decided to leave an IOU note in place of those items. She vowed that she would one day return or compensate for any stolen items. No matter what, she would return whatever she stole to survive.

  Initially, she started stealing small things like fruit and bread; then, one day, she watched as teenagers dined and ditched, eating at a restaurant and leaving quickly without paying for the food. She tried it, writing an IOU note on a napkin before she ran from the restaurant.