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slip away. In its place, I feel such dread and despair that I can hardly breathe.
    I have learned some very hard lessons in the days since I left Kevin’s apartment. I learned that no amount of determination or willingness to work hard is enough to find a twenty-year old girl with no work experience, a job in a matter of days.
    I also learned that no one wants to rent an apartment or even a room to a young girl with no credit or rent history and no money, even if the girl lowers her expectations and doubles her efforts.
    After I convinced Mia and Kevin to drop me off at a cheap motel in a shady area of the city, which was the only place in a ten miles radius I could afford to stay in, I immediately got to work.
    I worked extensively on my resume the first day and then started applying for any jobs I could possibly qualify for. But after five days, I am yet to hear from any of them. I understand most all of these places take a few weeks to even look at a resume, let alone get back to the applicant, but I don’t have the luxury to wait that long. So instead of waiting around for companies to contact me, I started walking around the motel, inquiring about work at every single restaurant, fast-food place and retail store I came across. Most of them said they are not hiring at the moment and a couple of places that did hire required experience. I even inquired at the local gas station, but every single place I have tried turned me down.
    Things are looking even worse in my hunt for an apartment. From the first hours I got to the hotel, I began searching online for a room or an apartment. In the beginning, I was somewhat selective in what I expressed interest in, but after a day or two of receiving only negative answers or no responses at all, I started to inquire about anything and everything affordable. Still, nothing came through. Everyone asks for credit and rent history, on top of a deposit, and I have none of those things.
    Realizing that my money is quickly running out and I’m yet to find a place with a roof over my head, I even contacted a few women’s’ shelters for domestic violence victims. They told me that I needed evidence of my abuse and asked me if I had filed a police report, and if not, if I was willing to identify my abuser and file for a restraining order. Since my answer to all of those questions was negative, they couldn’t help me.
    This morning in a desperate attempt to reach more places, I ventured outside of the few blocks I have been walking around in the past few days. After walking for a few more blocks than usual, I noticed the area getting sketchier. I started to feel spooked by the atmosphere, and decided to make my way back to the motel.
    That’s when I noticed a creepy looking middle-aged guy walking a few feet behind me. At first, I told myself that he is simply going his own way. But after he followed me for a couple of more blocks, I was not so sure anymore. I started to pick up my speed and turned a corner to see if he would follow, and was terrified when he did. Except for my phone and a twenty dollar bill, I didn’t have anything valuable on me, but I knew I could still be subjected to assault, kidnapping, or rape.
    The hair on the back of my neck stood up, as panic started to set in the pit of my stomach. I started to walk faster and faster, breaking into a run after another couple of blocks. When he started to run after me, I picked up my speed, starting to run for my life, but he quickly caught up to me.
    Just when I felt he is about to grab me from behind, a police car came around the corner from across the street. Seeing the cops, the guy quickly took off in the other direction. As I turned around to see if he left, I didn’t see a big pothole in front of me on the pavement and fell flat on my face.
    The impact was so severe that I felt disoriented at first, but I forced myself to get up. That’s when I felt the sticky droplets running down my face and my neck. I ran my hands