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As I walk towards the entrance, I can't help but feel like I'm being watched.
Is it paranoia?
Or is someone truly following me?
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away.
This is no time for second-guessing.
This is what is best for my child, even if I don't desire it.
My heels click against the asphalt, echoing through the night.
One step, then another, each bringing me closer to a point of no return.
But there's no going back now. Not when I've come this far.
"Keep it together, Diana," I tell myself, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.
"You're stronger than this."
And for the first time in a long while, I believe it.
I enter the payphone booth.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath to steady myself.
I clear my throat, wanting my voice to be loud and clear.
Pulling the crumpled business card from my pocket, I dial the number scrawled in messy handwriting across the back.
"Agent Miller," a gruff voice answers on the other end of the line.
"John? It's Diana Giuseppe," I say, my voice barely a whisper as fear threatens to choke me.
"Ah, Miss Giuseppe," he replies, his tone changing slightly.
"What can I do for you?"
I glance around nervously, ensuring that no one is watching or listening.
"I need your help," I confess, my words tumbling out in a rush.
"I think I want out of this life. I want safety. I don't know if you heard about the shootout at my wedding, but I can't live like this anymore. I'm willing to do whatever it takes, including changing my name, for a chance at stability, away from all this."
I wonder if the offer is still on the table, and pray it is.
There's a pause on the other end of the line, so brief that I almost miss it.
"Alright, Diana," Agent Miller finally says, his voice low and measured.
"Where are you right now?"
"At a gas station, just outside of Montana," I tell him, my eyes scanning the darkened parking lot for any signs of danger.
I describe everything around me, including the one or two stores surrounding me.
"Stay there," he orders.
