Prologue
UNKNOWN
Six weeks before
I walk up to the Amtrak train station located across from the Faren River in Largo, Maine. Looking at the building from the outside, it’s white with glass windows all around. Its shape could have you thinking it’s a stadium with a blue metal roof. I walk inside through the double doors that automatically open when you walk up to them and take in the spacious area. Looking up, there are more skylights in the roof, then there is a roof. I can see the night sky with a vast amount of stars shining down as it’s still very early in the morning.
I look in front of me, and to the left is the ticket counter with a line of people already standing there to get their tickets for their destination. To the right of me, I can see the entrance to the restrooms. As I continue walking the length of the building, my footsteps muffled by the soft gray carpet on the floor, I see multiple seating areas with potted plants scattered all around.
On the right-hand side of the wall is a coffee bar and vending machines. I make my way to the coffee bar, needing the caffeine this early in the morning. Once I have my cup, I turn and take in my surroundings completely.
I’m amazed by the amount of people here so early in the morning. Some are dressed in pajamas, pulling their carry-on bag behind them as they make their way to the ticket line or to a seat. Others are dressed in business suits, carrying briefcases and laptop bags. Then there are some couples who aren't paying attention to anyone but each other.
I already purchased my ticket online, so with my coffee in hand, I take a seat in the waiting area near the doors that will lead out of the platform and continue looking around. I watch as a young blond girl walks in with a backpack strapped to her and steps into the ticket line.
This is the train to New York with a stop in Boston and will be leaving at four-thirty am. My eyes are on the couple currently making out, not caring that they are in public or that anyone may be watching them. Maybe they do know and don’t care, though that’s very foolish on their part. See, I know their secret, and it’s one that will cost them everything.
I’m pulled from my prey, when I hear the call to board and see the double door to the platform open. Taking my time as I grab my bag, I watch everyone gather their things and head out to the platform.
I pull my ticket up on my phone, staying back but watching what is going on in front of me. No one notices me or even pays attention. I watch as people get in line by the car they are assigned. Most are in the line for business class, which makes sense, especially with how well they are dressed.
My ticket is for economy, and there is no seat number on it. I know the conductor will assign me a seat, so I am not worried. I continue looking over the people until my eyes land on the couple as they stand in the business line, two cars ahead of where I am currently standing in line.
My thoughts stray to wondering if they can feel they are being watched. Do they really care? From where I am standing, I would have to say no, they don't know nor care that they are being watched. They only have eyes and hands for each other at the moment.
I make my way in line to the conductor. "Ticket, please," he says.
I hand him my phone with the ticket on it, he scans it, then says, "Seat 21. Have a nice day.”
I give him a little smile and step into the car, taking in the blue-backed fabric chairs. I walk down the aisle until I find my seat number. Thankfully, it's by the window and not the aisle.
I take a seat, keeping my bag on my lap, waiting for the train to start. I know there is a little over two hours before we pull into Boston for our first stop. As I sit on the train looking out the window, I see the people who are rushing to get on board before we leave the station.
My eyes drift to those around me that have already boarded, and like me, are sitting in their seats. They seem to take no notice of those around them. They are all either looking at their phones, pretending their life is too important to notice the people around them, or staring into the abyss, hoping no one notices them. I watch a couple of people close their eyes to catch some more sleep before they arrive at their destination.
I sit here wondering why they didn't opt for the private car, but I know why. The amount of money to get a private room on the train is insane, well insane for me, and judging by the pajamas they opted to wear, probably insane to them as well. I sit back in my seat, waiting for the train to start its journey. The young blond girl I had seen in the ticket line, hurries on board, taking the seat across the aisle from mine. She quickly takes her backpack off and places it in the seat next to hers, then sits in her seat, looking out her window.
I hear the conductor get on board and conduct his checks as he walks down the aisle, then he says, "We will be leaving the station shortly, folks."
No one says anything as they continue to settle into their seats. I turn to look at the young blond girl again. She looks to be seventeen, maybe eighteen, and I can feel the excitement buzzing off her, but also nervousness. Makes me wonder what she is doing and where she is going, but I refuse to ask. Conversations are best left to other people.
The train starts to pull away from the station, so I lean my head back and close my eyes until we get up to speed. Once the train is at full speed, the conductor comes through and says, “The cafe is open for anyone needing anything.” He then continues walking to the next car, presumably to tell them the same thing.
I place my bag under the seat in front of me, and just as I scoot to the aisle to get up, the young blond whispers, “Excuse me.”
I look up at her, and she gives me a shy smile before continuing on. “I apologize for bothering you, but I’ve never been on a train before, can you tell me how to get to the café?”
I mull over her words and then before I even think about what I’m saying, I tell her, “You can follow me.”
“Oh, thank you so much. I promise not to be a bother,” she says quietly but with a bright smile.
I’m not sure why I allowed myself to speak to her, but I shrug like it’s no big deal. As we walk down the aisle, I point out the bathroom to her before we leave our car and head into the next one. I can hear her breathing behind me, as I look the people over while I continue to walk down the aisle. Some are on their laptops working, some are on their phones typing. I pass a few who have their eyes closed, sleeping.
The couple that was making out at the station is sitting in the back of the second car we go through, the man is touching all over the woman as she giggles. The man is next to the aisle, and the woman is by the window. There is only an empty row behind them and no one around them for five rows. I continue making my way to the cafe, needing as much caffeine as I can get.
The young girl continues to follow me to the cafe. As we stand in line, I can hear her mumbling to herself.
I turn to look at her, unable to help myself, and ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just a bit nervous, having never been on a train before. It’s just a little weird feeling the train move as I’m standing,” she says.
Though I know I shouldn’t, I ask, “Where are you headed?”
“I’m going to New York to visit NYU,” she says with that bright smile, then I watch it falter.
“Why do you seem unhappy about that?” I ask.
“I am happy, but I’m also worried about what my parents will think when they find out,” she says with a sigh.
“How old are you?” I ask, curious to know if I was right when I first glanced at her.
“Seventeen,” she responds.
“Did you not tell them?”
“No. My mom doesn’t want me going to college far from home, and to her, New York is far from home.”
