Jessica's POV
My ears tingled lightly as the gentle breeze ruffled my ears. The apparent darkness did very little to impede my vision as I was somehow able to course through it. I held my breath as I moved. The littlest of sounds could always awaken a light sleeper. I had several of them in the house.
I got to the stairs and began to climb as stealthily as I could. I felt like an eluding prisoner, except that this prison was the place I called home.
What used to be a short walk became quite long. I counted the steps as I moved. One. Two. Three. Four… I had to get to my room as fast as I could so that no one would spot that I had gone downstairs to spend some time on my own. Yet, it wasn't like anyone cared. They just sought a reason to yell at me.
As I kept climbing up the stairs, I couldn't help but surrender to my thoughts. I paused for a moment to reflect on how things had been going. The more I thought, the more I yielded to grief. I looked through the corners of my mind; yes, I ran my fingers through my thoughts. Yet, there wasn't anything worthy of a smile. Hurt was all I could lay my hands on.
My mind went back to the day before. I had gone to school, just like every other day, to learn like my peers. We had four different classes and my head felt heavy. I stepped out of class, bag in hand, as soon as the bell rang and was met with a chorus of laughter.
I paused. There was no reason for anyone to laugh. I looked at myself to see a sparkling white shirt and a sky blue skirt and I could see that everyone wore the same thing. Yes, my bag was a tad old but it didn't look bad either. My shoes? They were well polished and although the day was far gone, they still looked great.
Why were they laughing? What was so funny about me? Should I have stayed back in class? I turned to see just a few students left. They, who were laughing, were also outside. I couldn't tell what was going on.
I decided to ignore them and began to walk back home. I noticed a few footsteps behind me and I began to walk faster.
"Hey, slow down freak!"
"You are so weird. You don't belong here."
"Go on. Keep walking. That's the only thing you're good at anyway."
They kept raining abuse at me and I didn't know why. They had always stared at me on several occasions but this was different. I ran back home but it was never the same. I cried so hard that I lost my voice. I wondered why everyone just hated me for no just cause or a cause that I knew nothing about. It was best to stay alone; away from everyone else.
I snapped back into reality as I felt something moist on my hands. The pain was so deep that I cried in my thoughts. I wiped some off my cheeks with my right palm. Then, I kept climbing the unending stairs.
Getting to the last stair, I sighed in relief. The journey was finally over and my bed anticipated my arrival. Me too. It was the only thing in the house that always welcomed me with open arms. Well, maybe not arms but yeah, it was always open to having me around. Just as I got close to my door, my eyes were blinded by a shiny light.
"And where are you coming from?" I heard a voice ask as I raised my right hand to shield my eyes from the very bright light that threatened to steal my sight. "I'm sure you did hear me or are you deaf too?"
I heard the voice. Yet, I couldn't answer. How was I supposed to answer the question of an unknown person? I walked in the direction of the light to get a closer look.
"Oh, Amanda," I said, as I finally got to see her face. "I just went downstairs to have a little time to myself before going to bed."
"Why would you do that?" She asked. "We've been looking all over for you. You didn't even think it wise to tell someone. Are you that stupid?"
I raised my brows in astonishment. I didn't know that lies were so easy to tell. I'd always heard that the eyes of liars were slightly larger when they told a lie but I didn't see that in her face. Yet, I was sure she wasn't being frank.
No one looked for me. No one ever looks for me. No one cared about me. It was a constant beyond any argument. She was clearly in search of something to say; something to hold on to, in her quest to chide me.
"I don't need to tell someone before I can have some time to myself, Amanda. I'm old enough to do that." I retorted.
"Old enough, you say?" She came close to me, doing her utmost to flash the torch directly into my eyes but I quickly raised my left hand to block it. "You think you're all grown up now? You think you can do whatever you want?"
"I think you can do that, Amanda," I replied. "You're just as old as I am. A few months younger, to be precise. What makes you think you can be out here at night, all alone, and I can't?"
She said nothing. Instead, she pointed her torch to the wall and turned on a switch when she found it. Perhaps, she needed me to see the narrowing of her eyes and the look on her face as she took some deep breaths.
"Is it me that you addressed in that manner?" She asked.
She didn't appreciate my defiance. Yet, she deserved it and even more. She started the whole thing. She tried to make me look worthless.
"You're a worthless girl," she echoed, coincidentally picking the words out of my mouth. "Have you ever wondered why anyone never wants to hang around you?"
"I..."
"Shut your mouth! You are a freak; a no-good. Nothing ever feels right with you. No one would ever want anything to do with someone who spells bad luck all the time!"
I quickly turned around and headed straight to my room. I'd heard enough of everything and everyone. I couldn't stay there anymore. Everyone loathed me; the old and the young. What's the use of being in a place where no one likes you at all; even just a little? I'd been there all my life, yet, it still looked like I was the stranger that no one wanted.
I got into my room and began to pack my clothes as quickly as I could. I couldn't bear to spend one more second in that house. I was never going to fit in. I had to find my path, or create one myself.
As I went towards my wardrobe to pick up the last piece of clothing, I stumbled upon a few portraits of myself. Beautiful pictures. I was so young and naive. Now, I wasn't so young but I was still naive.
It wasn't all bad then. I was still hated but it didn't feel as bad as it did now. I'd stay by the window and watch the other kids play, knowing that they'd never let me play with them. When they saw me peeping through the window, they'd all laugh and make fun of me. Yet, I did have some company sometimes.
My foster mother. She didn't seem to like me that much but she did remind me of something more than once; the fact that she wasn't my mom. She never stopped talking about it. I never got tired of hearing it. She always told me I was found at her doorstep and my mother had dumped me there.
"Who was my mother?" I'd always ask but she always bared her hands.
I wondered why my mom chose not to keep me. Could it be that she also thought I was a freak? Was I cursed? Why does no one want me?
I always read in stories that whenever someone wanted to leave a place, they always said their goodbyes. People cried, hugs and all, the fireworks that burned through the heart of loved ones. That wasn't to be the case here. I was already more than 18, so they must have been looking forward to this day. I was certain that no one in there cared. I didn't care either. Okay, maybe I did. It didn't matter.
I picked up my bag and I went straight out of my room. The black travelling bag was quite heavy as I had packed a good number of clothes. I grunted as I struggled with it, dragging it along the floor until I got down the stairs.
Surprisingly, it suddenly felt lighter as I dragged it to the door. Perhaps, I felt I was a bit stronger than a few minutes ago. It didn't matter. I had to focus on what was ahead. An empty street and a blank page to write my new story on. I wondered what I had to do next or where I had to go. I was literally at a crossroads. Yet, this was something I had to do