Abandoned

A musty smell filled my nostrils as I walked down the seemed-to-be empty alleyway. A squeak bounced off the walls, making me jump in fear. I gripped the shoulder straps of my backpack until my knuckles went white. With trembling legs, I continued to trudge forward. Although my pockets were empty and my stomach growled, I was content.

I had finally left.

The memories were painful, more painful than the scrapes and abrasions on my arms and legs. Cold and dark, the alleyway seemed to be constricting around me. Yet, it was welcoming me with a warm embrace. I laughed to myself, wiping away a stray tear that fell. There was something liberating in being able to stomp on puddles of dirty water knowing that the only person who would follow me here would be a criminal.

The signs were always there. If they were supposed to be hidden, whatever they were hiding in was completely transparent. But I would feign ignorance. It was only until recently that concluded that the fortune teller was right. I needed to control of my life. For once.

I frowned at the puddle of dried up vomit, struggling to find a space for me take. Suddenly the magic had disappeared and the alleyway was the highway to hell.

Mother and Father had planned a trip to Japan. They booked the airplane tickets, they packed their bags. Going with them was Brother. I had never liked travelling, but one would get curious if everyone in the household was packing their bags without saying a word to you about it.

"What's going on? Where are all of you going?" I asked Mother, watching her fill the brown luggage with clothes.

Her eyes met mine. They seemed confused for a second. "We're going on a trip, honey." She was silent for a while. "Pack your things, because we're going to Japan."

"Japan?" I repeated. The abrupt telling of the news should have made me furious, but I was left stunned. "Since when?"

Her lips parted as she tried to craft an answer. Instead, she said, "Come on, start packing sweetie. The flight's tomorrow."

I listened to her instructions. Each of them had already taken all the suitcases so the only thing left was a backpack. Not that the backpack wasn't big enough, but the bitterness never went away. Leaving so suddenly was upsetting, not to mention that I was never a fan of holidays, but I couldn't simply tell Mother 'no'.

That night, I saw Mother purchasing a last-minute airplane ticket online. In her hands was my passport.

I turned a blind eye to it, but it dug a hole in my chest. It was difficult to understand. I didn't want to go anyway.

A day later, we were at the airport, waiting for our flight. I stuck to the bench and played games on my mobile phone while Mother, Father and Brother explored the place. They admired the variety of food, the different restaurants, and I simply couldn't understand why.

A chocolate-filled donut had, seemingly out-of-nowhere, materialised in Brother's hands. As he and Father talked about the donut shop, it was easy to piece together how that sweet treat ended up with him.

It was my fault. Entitled, I expected them to buy one for me too. Was I not their daughter and his sister that loved chocolate too? With expectations came disappointment.

My stomach grumbled for the seventh or eighth time ever since I left. The thought of chocolate was only making my insides gnaw at my body. I sighed to myself, opening my worn-out wallet. Ten dollars. I bit my lip, reached for the bottle and gulped down the remaining mouthful of water.

When Mother, Father and Brother returned, each of them had a snack of their own. Brother pushed me off slightly as he sat down. The spaces between the seats were small. I instinctively shifted away as a response, before uncomfortably moving towards the stranger wearing a dark hoodie that gave me the impression that he was smuggling a limb in his large suitcase. I quickly diverted my attention back to my family member and found my eyes were glued to the delightful snack in Brother's hands. My vision turned blurry but I never did end up crying.