Shopping for bread is fine, until La Mafia comes to meet me unexpectedly. Unsurprisingly, the unspoken fear of the mafia in our small coastal French town can strike fear in the heart of the strongest person. My hands quietly shake as they approach me. I wish I had never asked that favor! Who knew that they would ask for one in return? Preposterous. 

Killing my husband was all well and good. I was free, and I could now get his money and didn’t have to deal with that arranged marriage, but I guess them wanting something in return isn’t good for me. I am cornered in an alley, waiting for my orders. 

Then I remember, “I can hit him! I’ll kill him!” I technically killed my husband; why not some fat man? How ludicrous!” I pick up a small glass jug of milk. I raise my hand at the leader of our town’s mafia, Méchant Gars. He’s so malevolent. I smash it on his head, expecting it to knock him out. 

I was shocked when it broke and the force hit a hole in his head. The blood splattered across my dress and boots. In a panic, I looked down at a man more powerful than our mayor. Who I just killed. The strong smell of iron was a tirade in my nose. I picked up my food and ran. 

I saw the rest of our mafia and ran faster. The heels on my boots tripped me and the cobblestones slowed me down. Blood gushing from my nose reminded me of the crime I had just committed. My dark, sweat-stained hair grew sticky from blood as I made it to my house. I slammed the door and looked in my mirror. I was a mess. My clothes were soaked in blood and milk. One of my shoes had the heel broken off.

 I realized what had to be done. I collected all my savings and valuables, along with a second set of clothes and left my home forever. I took my horse, Rouge, and looked into the distance. I was leaving Dunkirk crestfallen and thought about where to go next. Finland sounded good, but it was too close.

 I would go to Finland and then to Denmark and Norway. But I had to be fast. It would only be a matter of time before the mafia realized Méchant Gars was dead. I had no idea how far down on the name list I was, or if I was a suspect, so I had to leave. As my horse ran, I thought. 

My name… 

What should it be now? 

Chloé Jeanne. That sounded good. 

We came to the bridge between France and Finland the next day. I stood there. I opened my bag, took out my mother’s sterling silver scissors, and cut off nearly all of my long, thick hair. I looked at my reflection in the scissors and breathed a sigh of relief. I was free. 

I rode Rouge across the bridge. I made it to Finland and bought a sailboat. It could fit me, Rouge, a month’s worth of food, and my belongings. I asked the locals, and they politely told me that my trip would take two weeks by sailboat.

 I purchased books on how to speak Norwegian and Danish. I hopped onto my boat and stored Rouge away. I moved my clothing to the drawers and set off. The boat rocking calmed me. 

The water hitting the sides of my boat drowned the voice in my head that reminded me of my guilt. I went to sleep. I later woke up, and my head hurt. I felt groggy and more cynical. My body ached. My new hairstyle was hurting my neck. My new life was worse than I thought. And I needed to stay in this boat for two weeks?

 I left for the top of our boat. It faintly rained. To sum it up, the most exciting thing that happened was that one time I caught a really big fish. 

I eventually docked in Sweden and began my new life in a cottage. Underneath the immense crushing of guilt of killing two people, I was happy. It took me time to realize that the guilt I felt wasn’t because of the murder, but because I felt no guilt.

The End