The last time I was so scared, was the night I learned who my father truly was. The other person in the chat room couldn’t be connected. I try to convince myself of this, but I don’t know for sure.
I want to escape. I need to run.
My fight or flight instincts kick into high gear, and I rush from the room into my personal bedroom and pull on a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie. I can’t be in here. I grab my keys and wallet along with my phone and race from the apartment. I step out onto the sidewalk and take a long deep breath.
I need to be around people.
Turning left, I make my way down to the pub. It sits on the corner, two streets from where I live, and inside, I find it warm and inviting. It’s not overly busy, but there are a few regulars who are nursing their beers.
“What can I get you, love?”
“A double shot of whiskey, please?”
With a nod, I watch as the barman pours my drink and sets it on the bar. With the recognition of some of the people I’ve seen around before in the pub, I feel at ease. Settling into a chair, I sip the strong alcohol with a wince before picking up my phone.
I should call my mother. Or message her at least. We’ve hardly spoken since I left. She wanted me to have a new life, so I obeyed. I came here seeking fresh start. The memory of her telling me to go assaults me.
When the taxi pulls up to our block, I pay him and get out of the car. The rain hasn’t let up, and by the time I walk inside, I’m drenched. My mother is on the sofa, her hand gripping a bottle of bourbon while her cigarette dangles between her lips.
She did her best.
But now it’s no longer enough.
Sure, she has a job. She pays the rent. But there’s nothing more for her to do for me. I’m an adult. I’ve finished my studies for the most part. Now all I need is the experience.
“He’s never getting out,” she mumbles, her voice husky as she stares at our flat screen. It’s not big, but the illumination on her face is a bright blue in the darkness of our apartment.
“I saw the conviction,” I tell her as I drop my purse on the table and shrug out of my coat. “Are you okay?” Even as I ask her, I know it’s stupid because she can’t be. I’m certainly not okay, and I don’t expect my mother to be either.
She offers me a sad smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you.” I’m not sure what she means, but I settle on the armchair, taking the remote control and flicking through the channels. But it’s no use, they’re all warning us to be careful of the dangerous monsters out on the streets.
Thankfully, even if my father could get out, he doesn’t know where we are. He doesn’t know we moved from the home which held all those painful memories. We’re no longer living in the city where he tortured so many families. If he were to break out, he’d have to track us down. Then again, he has connections. Dangerous ones.
“Maybe we should leave, move to a new country,” I announce, but the suggestion only earns me a dark laugh. It’s as if she’s given up on us. I watch my mother swig more amber liquid and swallow it down as if it were water. I’ve seen her broken before. But she dragged herself back up. Right now, I don’t know how to make her see we will get through this.
“You should leave.”
“What?” My mouth pops open in shock as I regard her.
She turns to me, her eyes blazing as she inhales a lungful of air. “You heard me,” she tells me as if I’m a child and I need explanations done slowly. “Pack your things,” she says. “And walk out. Leave the fucking country if you want to.”
Surprise grips me as my mother pushes to her feet. She’s wobbly at first, but then steadies herself. Her focus is on the bottle as she swallows back the last of the drink. I can’t find words to respond as she moves past me and makes her way to the kitchen.
Our apartment isn’t massive, it’s a two bedroom with open kitchen and living room, but it’s comfortable. It’s home.
I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
“I still have a few classes to finish.”
“Do them and leave,” she says. “It’s for your own good. I can’t let him find you again.” Once she delivers her message, my mother walks into her bedroom, slams the door shut, and leaves me alone with nothing more than a broken heart.
It was then I knew I needed a new existence. A new identity. I needed to leave the country as she suggested. Which brings me to London, where the sky is always gray, and history seeps into my bones. I didn’t think I’d like it. I thought I would miss home, but I don’t. I’m surprised by this because I’m not a lover of change.