Roan and I have been taking turns silently picking songs for the past 20 minutes. I had only played a few from my phone before I shut it off again, wanting to conserve the battery. He offered to let me charge my tablet and phone through his car phone charger, and I gladly took him up on his offer. Then, the radio was switched on.

I've been steadily flipping through the stations, only stopping on songs I know and when Roan tells me to.

Currently, a song I don't know is playing. Roan had me stop it on this one, so I'm guessing he knows what it is. I don't care to ask what it's called, though, as it's not very good.

"We'll be crossing through to Alaska in a couple of minutes," he tells me.

I nod, feeling a bit of nervousness form in my stomach.

Years after receiving that letter, I'm finally reaching Alaska.

I mean, sure, I'll still have hours to go before I reach my next destination, but Alaska!

Finally!

From then on, I keep my eyes on the road and area around me, looking out the windshield.

Then, I see it. Far up ahead, I see a sign that I can barely read.

'Welcome to Alaska. Historic Alaska Highway. Gateway to the 49th State."

And then...I see the 'UNITED STATES BORDER INSPECTION STATION.'

My hands start to sweat, despite being on the cold side. What if I'm flagged or something? What if I've gotten this far only to fail and be shipped back to a Washington jail?

"Will they need to see our identification papers or anything?" I ask, not knowing if it will be like how it was when I entered Canada.

"Just grab your passport," Roan answers. "And stop sweating, it makes you seem...suspicious."

"Sorry, let me just simply switch off my sweat glands for a second."

He ignores me as we get closer to the inspection station.

I quickly reach behind me and get my passport from my duffle bag.

When we pull up to the station, a male border guard appears and politely asks for us to get out of the truck and move into the office.

We do as he asks, and inside, our fingerprints are scanned, and we have our pictures taken.

The officials are very friendly, asking about how our trip to Canada was.

I'm confused, as I thought there would be a more detailed investigation. But, I don't complain or mention my passport. I simply answer their questions and try to smile as Roan's truck is searched.

Soon enough, we're told that we're free to continue; So, we move back outside and into the vehicle.

Then, we're on the road again, venturing deeper into Alaska.

Even though it's the 15th of November and the area around me is covered in snow, it doesn't necessarily feel cold and dead. Instead, it feels...clean. New. Exciting.

There are multiple hills on the horizon, and tamarack trees abound.

I love Alaska.

And, I'm incredibly relieved and happy that I wasn't flagged. But what does that mean, though? Are the local police the only ones after me, then?

That's fantastic if it's true!

Roan and I sit in silence for hours, both busy with our own thoughts.

I don't want to stop looking out of the window at the land around me. Just thinking about how far away from Washington I currently am sends excited butterflies into my stomach.

Plus, I don't really like talking, to be honest. I'm just not comfortable with it. I haven't really had many friends, so I don't really know how to make conversation that well. I just...don't know what to say.

With Grace, it wasn't too bad. She just asked me easy questions most of the time, and I could simply answer them. I could ask the same questions back or just make a remark about something related to the subject. But...I don't get how people are just naturally funny or creative when it comes to their spoken words.

I wasn't always quiet, though. When I was younger and lived with my parents, I used to be able to talk for hours. About anything, too!

They always encouraged me to speak up, and I thought that to be so nice.

But then, they died. And, I started living the life my adoptive parents laid out for me. We went to gatherings and get-togethers with their friends, and I felt forced to be someone I wasn't. Granted, I didn't know who I was back then, nor do I right now, but I certainly knew who I wasn't.

The people who surrounded me no longer encouraged me to speak up. Instead, they prompted me to stay quiet.

Now, I've never been a "proper quiet young one" deep down in my heart, but I also didn't feel like getting judged for my words and opinions by people who would never even try to understand them.

So, I kept quiet. And I've stayed quiet ever since.

However, I believe in equality and justice, and as far as I know, neither of those things would have ever progressed if the ones concerned stayed silent.

Therefore, I know that if the time comes, I won't be afraid to speak my mind honestly and loudly if I want to. And, if I'm interested in something, I'll probably find it easy to talk about it.

But, I don't know how to really converse. Chit chat is pointless to me.

I wish I were different. I wish I knew how to act like an actual human being. But, when you've, for the most part, grown up sheltered, surrounded only by books and slight misogynists, it's kind of hard to be.

My adoptive parents never really pressured me to do anything around the house, but if they didn't have hired help, I'm sure that's what would have happened.

Sometimes I wonder why they even adopted me, to be honest. We started out spending some time together, but then...we just stopped. They got...indifferent. It's like they only wanted me for appearances, to make themselves seem like caring, sympathetic individuals who would voluntarily care for an orphan.

And, maybe I would have believed along with the majority if I had never heard any of their arguments. I started really paying attention to them when I turned 13.

My adoptive father, Jack, was abusive to his wife, Fiona. However, no one ever knew about it. I threatened to let people know multiple times, including the police, but he just laughed in my face, telling me that no one would ever believe me.

Maybe only your friends will believe you, I thought. But surely the police will do something!

But they never did, not even after I tried to talk to them about it.

If I had been interested in law enforcement before, I certainly was after that. What drove people to drop their morals and give in like that? Why were so many on the police force faulty? From the racism to the ones abusive of power, I wanted to enter that crooked world and stay true to my beliefs in it. And I had faith in myself that I could do that.

But I couldn't as long as I stayed in that house. Granted, there might have been a way for me to leave. But, there's no guarantee that I wouldn't land in a different situation that was way worse from the one I was in. Plus, I felt obligated to stay for Fiona. Even though she never really talked to me, I still felt guilty for what she went through.

The cycle of abuse goes: abuse leads to regret, regret leads to blame, blame leads to make-up, make-up leads to plot, plot leads to set-up, and set-up leads to abuse, repeat.

The pattern of emotional, verbal, and mental abuse that Fiona went through really got to me. It got to where I started picking fights with Jack just to take his mind off her. I started playing his game, blaming him, and trying my best to make him seem like the bad guy.

Because he hated feeling like the bad guy.

Thankfully, he never took out his anger about me out on Fiona. When he was angry after losing a fight with me, he'd just...go silent. Like the calm before the storm. But, there was never a storm.

There was just the repeating circle of him insulting and criticizing her, trying to control her. Me stepping in and saying something to him. Us arguing. Him saying they never should have adopted me. Him going silent; him coming back later and apologizing. However, it never changed, and that's why I never believed his apologies. Because if you were genuinely sorry, you'd try to change.

And, I knew that his regret stemmed from a selfish fear of the consequences of his actions rather than guilt for the pain he caused.

He'd just go right back to finding fault and shifting the blame. Then, he'd act as if nothing happened. As if he had done nothing wrong. And, I'd be left looking stupid for holding a grudge against him.

Then, the cycle would repeat all over again.

And Fiona? Why did she stay in the marriage?

Under false hope that one day, he would change.

But yet, she never did anything about the situation.

And, I'm not trying to victim-blame or make it all seem like it's all her fault. That's the opposite of what I want to do; I just wished that she would have stopped surrendering sooner. Because the longer she failed to assert herself, the more self-esteem she lost, the more grievances she collected, and the more she had to fake being okay.

I mean, what did she expect Jack to do? Did she expect him to just one day come to his senses and immediately reverse and apologize for all his past actions and words?

Ha! As if.

I believe that people can change. But, only if they want to. And, he never wanted to. You can't change someone who doesn't want to change, so why would you allow yourself to be hurt like that? Maybe because he made her think she deserved it? That no one else would "love" her? That she wasn't smart enough to survive on her own? He made her think that she had to rely on his money and his mind to thrive.

It sickened me.

And, it was frustrating; the way our conversations could go from civil to pure conflict instantly.

I sigh, shaking my head to stop thinking about them.

I didn't want to think about them or about what happened almost three days ago.

It all just seems so surreal. I know that I'm in denial, but who wouldn't be? I mean, I know that he hated us, but how could he do that?

Suddenly, Roan clears his throat, causing me to glance in his direction.

"Hm?" I prompt.

"There's a rest stop ahead, do you need me to stop?"

"No. How long have we been driving?"

"Three hours. Can you manage until we're in Chickaloon, then? There won't be another easily accessible stop for the rest of the way."

"Oh, well in that case, yeah. Just to make sure."

He nods his head as he pulls into the exit for the rest stop. "You're not very talkative."

"Neither are you," I reply.

"Yeah, but I expected you to talk more."

"Why?"

"Because you're a girl."

"Do you label off everything like that?"

"What? No."

"It seems like it."

"Well, it's not." He replies.

He parks the truck and gets out, and I quickly hop out, too. As we're walking to the smaller brick building, he locks his vehicle with his keys.

When we get inside the empty structure, I realize that the air isn't that much warmer than the air outside. That, in turn, causes me to hurry to do what I have to do so I can get back inside Roan's cozy, heated truck.

As I walk out of the women's restroom, shaking my hands dry, I see him walking back towards his Chevy already.

"Crap!" I say to myself, racing outside after him.

I mean, I know he doesn't owe me anything and doesn't have to wait inside for me, but the panic of him ditching me started to set in.

When I get back inside his vehicle and buckle my seatbelt, the first thing he says is, "I would have left you. You're incredibly slow."

And, what I want to say is, Yeah, well, so are you.

But, unfortunately, he's giving me a ride to where I need to go. And, I don't really want to risk getting left on the side of the road in Alaska.

So, what I actually say is, "Sorry."

He rolls his eyes and buckles up.

And then, we're on the road again.

Only four more hours left!

It's Friday, so the tavern in Chickaloon should be busy. Meaning, there's a good chance I'll be able to 'find the people who remind me most of my parents'.

Hopefully, that won't prove to be too difficult. I know that the memory of them is starting to fade from my mind, but I should be able to find who John was talking about.

Right?

A.N.// double update hellooo