They had taken everything they could think to take — my phone, my money, my documents, my ability to walk.

But there was one thing it had not occurred to them to take, because they did not believe I still had it, and that was my will.

In their calculation, the broken leg was the master stroke precisely because it removed my ability to leave; a woman who cannot walk cannot run, and a woman who cannot run stays.

What they had not reckoned with was that leaving is not, in the end, a thing you do with your legs.

It is a thing you do with your decision, and the legs only carry out the order.