Shadows slowly crawled over my face as the bus I was on pulled out of the station and turned onto the road. I put my head down on the seat in front of me and closed my eyes. I wasn't tired, but I was exhausted, and there was still the irrational fear that someone on the bus was going to point at me and yell out everything that I had done, and that the bus would be stopped and I would be dragged off to a small room in the big house.
That didn't happen, though, and instead the bus rolled onwards for hours. At some point I opened my eyes and watched the scenery pass by through the window. There wasn't much to see, as all there really was were trees broken apart by the occasional billboard, but that didn't much matter to me since I wasn't paying attention to it anyway. My back was starting to ache from the seat, and the question that was running through my head was "what have you gotten yourself into this time?" I knew I messed up, knew I would probably be caught, but above all, I knew that I couldn't just give up and throw my life away because of one mistake. I would find someplace new and start over, and when the time came that I was found, well, I would have to be ready for that time when it came.
Eventually, the bus came to a rest outside of a filling station, and we were given fifteen minutes to stretch our legs and get anything that we needed. Slowly, I got up and exited the bus, heading towards the store. On the way in I passed a cop. I looked away. I couldn't afford to scare myself stupid before I got anywhere. What was the use of this if I ran away just to have a breakdown and end up in an asylum?
Inside the gas station, I got a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of Jolt Cola to drink. I had taken a bag of chips from the house, so I already had something to eat. When I went up to the counter, the man running the register smiled at me as he ringed up my two items, and I smiled back at him. I paid and took my stuff, and he told me to have a nice day as I was walking away.
I finally reached my destination and got off of the bus, glad that the trip was over and needing a while to rest after spending most of the day curled up in a small seat. The muscles in my legs were tight as I walked through the station and out the other side, another reminder of my long trip, but I didn't take time to stretch them. Currently I had nowhere to go, and I needed to find someplace to stay.
As I was walking down the street, an old man walked up to me and asked me if I had any money, saying that he needed to by a ticket to go back home to New York where his sister lived. I kept my head down and replied that I didn't have anything, which was true in a way. I didn't want to think about it, but in a way I was just like him. Here I was, on the street, and I had no place to go. I had a bit of money, but beyond that, I wasn't any better off than he was.
Eventually, I saw a rather tall sign that advertised rooms starting at $179 per week, and headed towards it. The place was called the Best Rest Inn, but for me it was going to be called home. As I walked towards it, wishing I was there already, I noticed the building. It was a rather large place with wooden siding and a large canopy out in front of the door, and it was painted in an ugly shade of grayish blue. I smiled a bittersweet smile as a saying that my grandmother was fond of saying came back to me. Beggars can't be choosers. It was on that thought that I entered the building, walking towards the front desk to buy a room to stay in.