My heart was racing. I couldn't think. I quickly went over to the old wardrobe in my room in the inn and grabbed my battered suitcase. Quickly and as quietly as possible I started packing the few things I owned.  It was dark, but I didn't dare turn on the small bedside lamp. I didn't want to risk waking anyone. Not this time.

I was breathing heavily and my heart had, if anything, sped up. With every heartbeat the voice in my head (which spoke quite frequently nowadays) kept repeating one thing, in a rhythm: "This has to be done. This has to be done."

And it did. My suitcase packed, I tiptoed over to the wardrobe and grabbed my coat. It was supposedly mink, but I knew it wasn't. The fellow who had given it to me, Tommy something? had only said so because he figured I would be so grateful I would...well...anyway. 

At this point I couldn't care less. Mink or fake the coat was warm, and it was snowing like mad outside. Coat on, I pulled an old hat over my blonde hair and grabbed my suitcase. I quietly closed the door to my room and said goodbye to The Crooked Candle Inn and its "rustic charm."  I took a deep breath and started off into the snowy night.

This has to be done.

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