Fleeing the Past
The lights of the city blur against the rainy window as the bus creaks down the road, taking me away from everything I used to call home. The wheels thrum against wet pavement, a soothing beat that isn't soothing to me. My face is pressed against cold glass, my breath fogging over a reflection of someone I hardly know—hollow-eyed, jaw clenched, a shadow of who I used to be.
I don't glance over my shoulder. Glancing over my shoulder equates to regret, and regret isn't something I can afford. Getting out was my only choice. The whispers, the judgmental gazes, the smothering burden of disappointment—it was too much. So, I did what I excel at doing. I escaped.
Rain pours down against the glass, reflecting the turmoil inside me. Each drop that runs down the pane feels like I'm coming apart in pieces. My fists hold on to my old duffel bag's strap as if gripping it can keep me intact.
My phone rings in my pocket for the tenth time. I don't answer. I don't need to. I already know who's calling. Leon. Each of his messages has been a confusing blend of anger and desperation. My stomach twists into a hard knot. I clench my eyes shut, banishing the memory of what we last spoke about.
"Celeste, speak to me. No matter what it is, we'll correct it."
"You don't understand, Leon. There's nothing to repair. I no longer belong there."
His anger seeped through on the phone, his tone coarse with emotion. "So that's it? You're going to just vanish?"
Back then, I didn't know anything. Now I know nothing.
The bus stops sharply. A few passengers shuffle on, with their rainy, tired coats in tow. A man in a battered hooded sweatshirt falls into the seat opposite me, and his eyes dart to mine, then continue downcast. I know this expression—remorse, sorrow, a burden too great to voice. Strangers, but in this moment, we are so alike.
I slump deeper into my seat, tucking my hood over my head, hoping to just vanish into thin air. The farther I travel from the city, the more this feels real. No going back. No second chances. No more keeping up with the pretense of who everyone wants me to be as Celeste.
The bus door slams open once more. A kind-eyed old woman enters and takes the seat next to me. The scent of lavender and books greets me, a fragrance that triggers something deep in me—a memory of my mother reading me bedtime stories before the world turned cold.
She examines me briefly, then gives me a wise smile. "Fleeing from something, dear?"
The phrases land like a gut-punch. I clench my throat. "Is it really so obvious?"
She smiles quietly, eyes shining with the knowledge of a person who has witnessed too much. "Only to those who've done the same."
I look down at my own hands—nails bitten down to the quick, knuckles raw from repeated clenched fists. I confess, my voice little more than a whisper, "I needed to get out of there."
She nods as if she gets it totally. "Sometimes it seems like it's the only option." Her fingers fuss with the brim of her coat. "And running seems to catch up with you, after a while."
I swallow hard, looking out the window where trees turn into a blur. She's correct. Wherever I travel, no distance can keep me away from the past.
The bus stops again. I tense up. The shadow falls across the platform, a figure emerging out of the rain. My heart races. No. It can't be.
No.
Drenched in rain, dark locks clamped to his brow, eyes sweeping over the bus with desperate intent. My gut turns sickly. How did he locate me? I curl into my seat, lowering my hood. Perhaps he won't notice me. Perhaps—
His eyes are fixed on mine.
And I know I am caught.
Leon walks towards me with intent, his jaw tight, his shoulders squared. I steel myself as he pauses in front of me.
"Celeste."
His voice is soft. Too soft. The softness of quiet storms yet to come.
I tilt my chin upwards, bracing myself to lock eyes with him. "You shouldn't be here."
His lips compress. "Neither should you."
The old woman next to me exhales a wry smile as she pats my hand and gets up. "I'll leave you two alone." She walks over to another seat, leaving me with a newfound suffocating silence.
Leon drops into the empty space, exhaling hard. "What in the world were you thinking?"
I turn away, my hands clenching my bag as if it's a lifeline. "I was thinking I needed to leave."
"Without letting anyone know? Without even giving me a say in—" He cuts himself short, running a hand through his damp hair. "Damn it, Celeste."
My throat burns, but I steel myself to remain calm. "There was nothing left for me there."
His eyes grow dark. "That's a lie."
Silence falls between us, filled with all we don't say. The bus surges ahead once more, and we are hurtled deeper into the unknown. I wait for him to yell, to ask me what I am doing, but instead, he speaks low and broken.
"You can't just disappear on me like this."
Something inside me cracks. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
His palm grasps mine, his grasp strong, stabilizing. "You simply chose wrongly."
My eyes sting with tears, but I blink them away. "It's too late, Leon."
"Not even close," he says, shaking his head.
The bus slows down to another stop. The intercom crackles as it announces the station. My stop.
Leon notices the decision in my eyes before I even make a move. His grip tightens. "Don't do this."
I free my hand. "I already did."
The doors creak open, cold air pouring in. I stand, legs trembling, heart pounding. The moment has arrived. The decision. Fight and stay, or flee into the night.
Leon also gets up. "If you walk off this bus, you're not just leaving the city. You're leaving me."
The words cut deep inside me. He's not begging. He's presenting me with an option. A real one.
I hesitate.
And yet, as if by decision of the universe, a gust of wind sweeps between the open doors, and at that instant, I step forward.
Off the bus.
Into the unknown.
Leaving behind all I ever knew.
And perhaps, just perhaps, breaking my own heart in doing so.