#the prosecutor

Rachel had to grimace at the feel of the padding brushing the insides of her upper thighs. The discovery that her bladder muscles has been weakened by months of disuse had not been a welcome surprise. Neither had the wet sheets on her hospital bed that had accompanied it.

Besides the clothes on her back, the only possessions in the young attorney's hands were a Greyhound ticket to a city named Selma, New Mexico, more than half the country away, and a purple rolling suitcase full of similarly unstylish clothes provided to her by the US Marshal's Witness Protection Program.

Rachel looked nervously around as she stepped into fresh air for the first time in months. She would have been lying if she told anyone that being out of the safety of the hospital that had become her home over the last few weeks wasn't terrifying.

A little trickle of pee dribbled into her pull-up brief as a black car rolled up in front of her, rolled down it's window, and honked.

"Hey, are you Serena Maxwell? I'm Henry, your Uber driver."

Rachel shook her head no when hearing the name initially, but suddenly remembered her new identity.

She peeked in the window to see the marshal, Henry Santos, grinning back at her.

"Oh, yes," she chirped out timidly, "I'm Serena."

Rachel did her best to pretend she didn't know the man behind the stirring wheel, not knowing who was watching them at that moment.

Henry kept smiling as Rachel got in the back seat of the car, but his eyes constantly moved, clearly staying vigilant for any danger.

When the back, passenger door shut, Rachel--now Serena--buckled in.

"You look good, kid! How're you feeling? Ready for this?"

Henry said as he pulled the car away from the curb, watching his passenger from the rearview mirror.

"I'm… I'm good," Rachel chirped back, watching the chaos of the city roll by as the car slowly moved along, "It's just a lot, you know?"

The woman squirmed uncomfortably on the warm wetness of her soggy padding. She was going to have to strengthen her bladder sooner than later, she thought to herself.

"I bet it is," Henry said, solemnly, "I'm so sorry you're going through this. But, hey, look at it this way, it's not all bad!"

Rachel raised her eyebrow, the inquisitive mind of an attorney asserting itself for a moment over her overwhelming fear and worry.

"Not all bad? I just gave assassins trying to murder me and have to uproot my entire fucking life, but it's not all bad?" She scoffed in disbelief at her protector's statement.

Henry shook his head chuckling.

"Nope! Not all bad!" Henry chirped as the car rounded a corner, "You're leaving this gloomy place for a warm, dry desert, for one. And, that high stress job? No one is expecting you to worry about that until your back. Really, all of those expectations that have been on you your whole life, to work hard, learn as much as you can, to succeed? You're getting a break from all of them! This is a chance to take a break from being you for a bit. That's never a bad thing, in my book."

Rachel put her forehead on the cool window as Henry spoke.

"A break from being successful? Who would want that!? Did you see the job they set me up with?" Rachel asked as the bus station rolled into sight.

Henry chuckled again.

"Yeah, what was it again? Inventory clerk at Wally Mart? A bit of a change of pace from trial attorney, huh?"

Rachel scoffed as Henry talked.

"Hey, sport, don't knock it until you try it," the marshal said as he pulled his car to the drop off spot.

Rachel could see Susana sitting on a bench just outside of the bus station. She gave the signal that everything was clear.

Rachel started to get out of the car, grabbing her luggage from the back.

"We'll see," she responded to Henry, a little annoyed by the older man's continued use of childish nicknames for her, "How about you all just find the fucker who tried to kill me fast, so I can get back to the real world?"

Henry nodded in response before Rachel slammed the back door of the car closed.

"Well do, kiddo."

Rachel shook her head, pulled the handle of her suitcase up, and wheeled it into the bus station.

She checked the time on her ticket. It didn't leave for 30 minutes.

Perfect, she thought to herself as she walked towards the bathroom, Susana following a reasonable distance behind her so as to not let on they were together, plenty of time to work on this bladder control thing before she leave.

And, with that, Rachel walked into a bathroom stall to try and empty her bladder for the trip and change into a fresh disposable brief she was determined to keep dry.