Beyond His Control (His 2)

Even mine.

I’m lying to myself right now, but I have to. If I don’t, I won’t survive.

I swallow back the tears and focus on the journey. There aren’t a lot of people on this train, and most are sleeping or talking with friends, so no one really notices we’re here … and that we don’t actually belong. Not even me.

I’ve been through something that, even if I tried to explain, none of these people would ever understand. Something about me has … changed.

I can feel it in my lungs, in my veins. I can see it when I look at my hands. They don’t look the same as the hands of the woman sitting in the row in front of us. Or the child sitting in front of her. And their smiles don’t look like the smiles I’ve seen for so long. Their faces aren’t marred by hardship, and their hearts seem filled with love. They are full while mine is hollow. Like a carved-out tree pulled out of the soil, roots and all.

I’m wandering a world I have no connection to anymore, but that same world once belonged to me, and I belonged to it.

I want to be here, right now.

I want to enjoy this.

I want to live my life and be free … and happy.

So I force myself to smile … Smile through the tears as they stream down my cheeks while I stare out through the sunlit window at the meadows and forests and cities beyond. I marvel at the sight of all those buildings and places to explore, knowing I once again have the opportunity to do so …

By choice.

My choice.

Everything I do from now on is my decision, and that should make me happy.

I look at Emmy who’s still in her little corner, refusing to move. The tears that stained her face have dried up, and she looks melancholic. Hopeless.

It’s a face I recognize all too well.

I swallow away the lump in my throat and go down on my knees in front of her. When I grab her hand, she flinches and glances at me. It’s as if she didn’t even realize I was here.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I say.

She’s been nothing but a burden, but even a burden has feelings, and I can’t deny that. I can’t deny her the same humanity and love they denied me at that community when they put me in that suffering hut. Because then I would be no better than them. And I refuse to be a monster.

So I pull her in and wrap my arms around her. “I promise you’ll survive.”

“But I don’t know how,” she says. “I don’t know where I am or where we’re going, or even how.”

I smile and force away the tears lingering in my eyes. “We’re going home.”

“Home?” she whispers.

“Yes … my home.”

At the next train station, we jump out, and I quickly check the maps to see where we should go. Then I purchase two tickets with the stolen money and hop on the next train with Emmy. She’s been quietly observing every move I make. As long as she doesn’t ask too many questions, I’m good with that. I know she must have many. But … safety first, answers later.

The train takes us all the way back to my hometown, and when the doors open, and I step out into the fresh air, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Finally, I’m here.

Emmy’s hands are firmly entwined with mine. She hasn’t dared to let go since we stepped back onto the train, and I’m worried she might be scared. What must that thing look like to her? A monster? A beast, swallowing her whole?

What do things look like when you’ve never seen them before? Alien, I’m sure. She must be thoroughly confused … or scared.

Her fingers clench mine even harder as we exit the station. There are giant buildings everywhere, and people walking about. It’s a bustling city with plenty of shops and entertainment, and I can tell from the way she lifts her shoulders and lowers her eyes that she’s too scared to even look.

“No one will hurt you, Emmy,” I say. “You’re free here.”

“I know … but it’s so huge,” she says, swallowing. “And there are so many people. And they’re not even dressed the same.”

I snort. “That’s normal here.”

She briefly glances at me. “Yeah … you said that before.”

“It’s probably different to see it for real, isn’t it?”

She nods.

I’m sure she’s worrying about many things. I remember having so many questions when I was at the community and I felt too afraid to ask. But I won’t punish her if she tries.

I sigh and look at her. “You know you can ask me, right?”

“What?” she mumbles.

“Anything.”

“Oh …” She blushes. “Yeah, of course. I just …” She swallows. “I don’t want to be a burden.”