This is part of an ongoing series. If you wish to, you can go back and read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.
I thought my heart has become numb. Maybe it has. But, I guess, my eyes don’t know that. Because right now, they are overflowing. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stem their flow. So I just sob into my hands. My tears trickle down my arms, into my lap.
It doesn’t matter that I am sitting in a crowded train. My eyes don’t seem to care. It feels safe to bare my soul before them. I guess, it knows the people here are not a threat. They are just strangers. The people who are a threat are those who know you, who love you. They know where your weak spots are, how to damage you in the worst possible way. My eyes will never betray me before them. It never has.
Not even when the man who calls himself my father raised his hand against me. Or threatened to kill my mom.
All my eyes showed then were rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. And hate. So much of it, it threatened to consume me. So I left. Left them all.
I have changed trains. I now sit next to the window, see the landscape roll by. It’s strange how the landscape, the houses, and the dress people wear tell you so much about where you are. I wish it was that simple when it came to my mind. That I could just see the colour of my thoughts, the wishes of my heart, and know exactly who I am.
But I know it won’t be as simple as that.
I am here. Finally. After a week-long search. The white-washed walls smelling of new paint; the old creaking ceiling fan; the bathroom with its not-so-shiny tiles... it’s not much. But it’s a start.