Sometimes you were so careful I didn’t even know we had left until I woke up on the back seat of the car bundled up in a duvet.
I also remember you liked to drive fast, hurtling the car through the back roads towards our next refuge. A cheap motel, or if we felt brave, an anonymous guest house that might provide safety for a few weeks.
Weeks in which you would plan our next move and worry about how we were ever going to escape their remorseless pursuit.