relaxed. I began to sleep through the night. I laughed without wondering if someone was recording me.
Six weeks after my arrival, a stranger staggered into the restaurant and collapsed near the counter.
His shirt was stained with blood from a wound in his side. For a terrifying moment, I thought Kyle had found me and was preparing another cruel performance.
Then the man looked at me with unmistakable pain.
“Help,” she whispered.
I took clean towels, pressed them against the wound, and told Martha to call emergency services.
“Stay
