She knew immediately that she had made a mistake. She paid her PASMO with a credit card. The exit gate would read it on the way out and know she had b...en there. Then it would know who she was. Then the two hard plastic wedges that politely gave way for innocent travelers would crush her. The entry gate read her PASMO on the way in. The exit gates would be ready for her, waiting to strike. There had to be another way out. She needed time to think. She walked over to the side of the atrium and. There were additional signs ofchaos in the room: the travel books that once decorated the coffee table layabout the room; the coat rack in the foyer lay on the floor near the frontdoor; flowers which only moments before sat in a vase decorating the livingroom, now cluttered the floor of the living room, the vase slowly drippingwater. Her clothes, ripped off her body as she had run from her attackers, layabout: tattered white line Capri pants at the entrance of the room; a fleshcolored body suit. Now, pull out your study guides and let’s get started.’ Mr. Jacobs spent the next hour obviously going out of his way to avoid me. I only caught him checking me out a few times, but each time my gaze met his, he swiftly changed his focus. I thought all my work breaking down his defenses the following week had gone to a waste. The bell rang and I gather my books, discouraged and puzzled. ‘Courtney?’ I turned his way when I heard him ask my name as the other students filed out of the room, ‘Are. You wouldn't normally pay attention to them but now they have a strange power to burn and tear at the soul. A toothbrush. A diary. The T shirt she often wore to go to the gym.As the day wears on a voice nags inside my mind. There's a slowly growing realisation. The voice seems to say "She has left you Joe. You weren't enough for her anymore, were you? You did not try hard enough, did you? You couldn't be bothered, could you? Now look. Now look what you have done. Forced her away. Gone. She is.