Late Realisations (2)
I shut the door hard behind me. It was so loud that even I was shocked. But, I did not care. Why would I? They did not care. How could they be so cruel? What have I ever done to them? All I asked them for was a bicycle. How hard could it be? They could well afford that. Why are they so rude? No, I cannot tolerate this anymore. I have to get out of here. If I stay here, I will be wasting my future, my life. It is a tough decision, but I had to.
I packed some dresses, books, and my extra pair of sneakers. I put on my bag and walked to the door. I have to do this. I have to let them know my stand. I pulled the door open and stood before them assertively.
‘Whoa! You seem all packed up, honey. Where you off to?’ It shocked me. I was leaving home once and forever, and he did not even care about it. I knew he did not love me. I knew he always wanted me out of his life. But now I was ready. I might not be an adult yet, but I had decided. My life changes, from here, from now, and there will be no looking back.
My mom came out of the kitchen then. She was shocked.
‘What are you doing, peanut?’
I made my voice hoarse. ‘I am leaving.’ I said with all power I could procure.
‘Wherever I feel.’
She suddenly ran towards me. I backed up. But, my father stopped her midway.
‘Well, off you go.’ he said.
I lost my control. How could dad do that? Though the bag was heavy, I walked out of my home as bold as I could. I could hear my mom calling from behind. But, I did not look back. I had already decided. I decided not to look back. And I had to stay resolved.
I made my way to the bus station. The hot sun and the heavy bag made me feel so weary. But, they could not shatter my determination. I caught the first bus I saw and took the front seat. With the help of a young lady, I put my bag on the top stand. I was the only passenger in my seat until the next five stops. Then, I had to share my space with a gigantic, old lady.
It was a bit uncomfortable for a few stops. I found myself a little constrained. But the situation only aggravated then. The lady continued pushing, pulling, stretching, and I felt more and more compressed. I tried to move away as much as I could. But the lady was enormous, and I was tiny. I doubted whether she was aware of my presence. I wanted to tell her, but my voice systems seemed temporarily locked.
The circumstances got worse every second, and I had to do something now. I, with all my effort, tried to pull the old lady aside. But, my timing could not be more terrible. The moment I pushed her away, the bus came to a sudden stop. And guess what. I got thrown away from the bus. I flew right through the front glass, as it never existed. Some of the glass pieces flew with me as well. I was in the air for a long time. Then, I landed on the carriage of the vehicle in front of me.
Luckily, it was a mini container truck carrying styrofoam. So what could have been fatal was avoided. But, it did not keep me from the blackout. The last thing I saw was my father running to me faster than light. Even my mother could not gain his speed. But that was it. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I opened my eyes and found myself at the hospital. My hands had a slight injury, but the doctor lady found it quite insignificant. Though, my mom did. She rubbed my hands back and over many times. After a few hours, they let me leave without much medication.
Now I was going home. Somehow, it did not make me feel terrible. Though my decision still rumbled around in my mind, it had lost all its strength and was no longer very attractive. And when I reached home, it disappeared. Because when my dad opened the doors for me, I never expected Ladybug 20030, the latest bicycle model, to be waiting for me on the other side. Ow! There is no better place than at home. Home, sweet home!
Moral of the story: Sometimes, oppression is good. It’s necessary, to be frank. It protects you from things, you know like, getting thrown away. And I am not talking about sharing seats here. I am talking about something way more precious than that, our dad, our mom, our siblings, our family.