June 06, 2089
She's gone, yet somehow still here, lingering in the memories that replay without permission. It's as if her absence left behind a parasite—an invisible bug that burrows deep, consuming parts of me I can't defend. I carry her ghost everywhere, an imprint on my soul, gnawing at me slowly, turning me hollow inside. I've tried to move on, to fill that space with someone new, but each attempt only makes her memory sharper, highlighting what I can't seem to recreate. Every laugh, every touch feels distant, echoing a connection I no longer have. She left her mark, and that mark refuses to fade, turning even my attempts at forgetting into reminders of what's missing. I'm trapped between memory and reality, haunted by someone I can never have again, yet somehow can't fully let go. The more I try, the deeper her memory roots itself.
The morning sun filtered through the dusty window, casting a pale light across the cluttered room. Porshe curled into a ball at the foot of my bed, his soft snores punctuating the silence. A half-packed suitcase lay open on the floor, clothes spilling out like thoughts I couldn't quite grasp. My father's footsteps echoed in the hallway, a rhythmic reminder of the impending change.
"Are you ready?" His voice drifted in, thick with an undercurrent of worry.
"Yeah," I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the faded photograph pinned to the wall. It was an old Polaroid of her, N—her laughter frozen in time, a moment that felt worlds away. The way her hair caught the light, the way her smile made my chest feel lighter. I tried to shake the memory off, but it clung to me like a shadow.
"C'mon, we should get going." He knocked gently before stepping inside the room. His gaze swept over the scattered belongings, the remnants of a life I was leaving behind. "I packed the car with your stuff. We can stop for breakfast on the way."
"Sure," I replied, my voice a dull echo of enthusiasm. I pushed myself off the bed, but my feet felt heavy, like they were rooted in the hardwood. "Just give me a minute."
I could feel his gaze linger as he turned to leave, the door creaking softly behind him. Alone again, I took a deep breath and picked up the photograph, tracing my fingers over her face. What was the point of forgetting? I had spent so long trying to ignore the ache in my chest, trying to convince myself that life could still be normal. But how could it be when every smile reminded me of her?
"Porshe," I whispered, kneeling beside him. He blinked awake, his brown eyes filled with unconditional love. "You ready to go? I guess this is our adventure, huh?"
He wagged his tail and licked my hand, as if to say he was always ready. I chuckled, a faint sound that barely echoed in the empty room. "Let's just hope it's better than any of the last ones."
As I stepped into the hallway, I could hear my father's muffled voice from the living room. He was talking to someone on the phone. I didn't catch the words, just the tone—tight and strained, like he was holding back a flood. I hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Was I abandoning him, taking another step away from whatever family we had left?
"Hey!" My father's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "You coming?"
"Yeah." I forced a smile, pushing the photograph deep into my pocket. "Just needed a moment."
With each step down the hallway, I felt the walls closing in, memories swirling around me like ghosts. I could almost hear her laughter again, a soft melody that played in the background of my mind. I had never been good at saying goodbye, especially not to the parts of my life that felt like they were fading away.
The room was cluttered with many things everywhere, remnants of a life we were packing away. My father stood beside the door, phone pressed to his ear, his brows knitted in concentration. "I'll call you later, okay?" he said, ending the call abruptly. He glanced at me, his expression softening. "You ready for this?"
"I guess so," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. I pushed the door open, the cool air rushing in to greet me. It felt different out here, the city buzzing with life, yet I felt like a ghost slipping through the cracks.
"Porshe!" I called. He bounded past me, tail wagging furiously as he raced toward the car. I watched as he hopped inside, tail thumping against the seat, as if he already understood the adventure ahead.
The drive was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the tires humming against the pavement. I stared out of the window, watching the cityscape morph into a blur of colors and shapes. Buildings fell away, replaced by sprawling fields and the distant outline of trees.
"Do you think it will be different?" my father asked, glancing over at me.
I shrugged, my fingers tracing the pattern on the seatbelt. "I don't know. I guess we'll find out."
"Do you think you'll be fine there among others?" he pressed, his tone gentle, as if he was treading carefully around the edges of my fragile thoughts.
"Maybe," I said, but the word felt hollow. I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. The thought of being somewhere new filled me with a strange mix of hope and dread. "It's just… it feels like I'm running away."
"Maybe it's more about finding a place where you can breathe," he suggested, his voice low and steady. "You've been through a lot."
"Yeah," I huffed softly, the weight of his words settling in. "But I'm not sure a change of scenery will solve anything."
"Sometimes it's not about solving problems," he replied. "Sometimes it's about giving yourself a chance to heal."
I didn't respond. Instead, I stared at the road ahead, a ribbon of uncertainty unfurling before us. My thoughts drifted back to her, the way she would tilt her head back and laugh, the way her eyes sparkled like the stars I used to gaze at from my window. I missed her more than I cared to admit.
"Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked, breaking through my reverie.
"Talk about what?" I shot back, maybe a bit too harshly.
"Nothing really, just about yourself, but your reaction already tells a lot."
"Nah, it's nothing at all, I said already I have nothing to talk about "I muttered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "It not like I won't share with you." Although I had, I can't tell him about myself, her or anything.
I turned away, staring out at the fields rolling past, the vibrant greens and soft browns blurring together. I didn't want to feel like this anymore. The pain was a constant companion, a shadow that followed me wherever I went. I just wanted to forget.
"Look," he said, breaking the silence that had filled the car. "It's okay to feel lost. You don't have to have all the answers right now. Just… let yourself feel."
I leaned my head against the window, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. "What if feeling just makes it worse?"
"Then you face it. You face it head-on. You allow yourself to hurt, but then you find a way to move forward." His voice was calm, steady—a lifeline in the storm that swirled inside me.
"Easier said than done," I muttered, picking at the fraying edges of my sleeve.
"True," he acknowledged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But sometimes it's the hardest things that lead to the best outcomes."
I wanted to believe him, but doubt clung to me like a second skin. I turned my gaze back to the window, watching the world outside shift and change, the damp landscapes blurring into one another. I felt like I was losing pieces of myself with every mile we traveled.
As we neared the outskirts of our grandparents house,an old familiar ache began to creep back in—an ache for the life I was leaving behind, for the girl who had made everything feel possible. I swallowed hard, forcing the memories back down.
"Hey, look!" My father interrupted my thoughts, pointing out the window. "We're almost there."We were at the destination at around the evening.
I turned to see a small farmhouse nestled among the trees, the sun glinting off its weathered roof. It seemed so far removed from the chaos of the city, a place where I could finally breathe. But as we pulled into the driveway, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach tighten.
"Welcome home," he said softly, his voice filled with hope.
"Yeah," I replied, my heart racing. "Home."
Was it really? Or just another place where I would feel the same emptiness? I climbed out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my feet, and took a deep breath of the crisp air. It was different here—cleaner, quieter. But would that be enough to drown out the echoes of my past?
Porshe bounded out, tail wagging, his excitement infectious. I watched him explore the new surroundings, his joy a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me.
"Let's get settled," my father said, his voice filled with determination. "Then maybe we can explore the area?"
"Yeah, sure," I replied absently, my mind still lost in the memories of her laughter, the warmth of her smile.
As we unpacked, I tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered like a haunting melody I couldn't shake. I could hear her voice, feel the warmth of her presence, and with every moment, the weight of my heart seemed to grow heavier.
What if I never moved on? What if every new place was just another reminder of everything I had lost?
"Hey," my father called, breaking through my reverie. "I think the kitchen could use some organization. Want to help me out?"
I nodded slowly, forcing a smile. "Sure. I can do that."
As I stepped into the kitchen, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. Maybe this was a chance—a chance to start anew. But as I opened a cupboard, I caught sight of the old photograph peeking out from my pocket. I pulled it out, staring at her face once more.
"Hey," my father said, stepping in beside me. "What have you got there?"
I hesitated, my heart pounding. "Just… a memory."
"Isn't that among the pictures you had in your room? Is it a girl's?" he asked gently.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. "Nah, it's nothing really." Pushing the Polaroid back into pocket. Maybe it was time to face the music, to let myself feel all the things I had tried so hard to ignore.
"Let's get back to work," I said, forcing a smile. "There's a lot to do."
And as we began to clean the room for the guests, I could feel the weight of the world shifting, just a little. Maybe this would be a place of healing. Or maybe it would just be another chapter in a long, winding road.
But for now, would take it one step at a time. Who knows how much longer will I suffer in this world, might be tomorrow, or even today....
To be continued...