The Crowned Reunion

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The clock strikes twelve. It's my birthday.

As quietly as possible, I rummage through my closet for clean sheets of blankets. Once I've gathered enough, I string its ends together, forming a knot on each end, and hurl it across the window of my room.

Checking back at the clock, I look through my full backpack for one last time. My phone, clean clothes, a toothbrush and a fresh pack of toothpaste, a flashlight, snacks, my sketchbook... it's all here. I zip it shut and swing it across my back.

I look back at my room. The mess of a room I inhabited ever since I was a young girl... well, I was a boy at that time, but nobody knew that yet. Not me, especially. It's not like people even know, to this day. I feel a tingling sense of nostalgia down my throat, and my brain tells me not to run away. Not on my birthday. But I try to swallow these thoughts and make my way to the window. I'm 18 now, and I've had enough.

Hurriedly, I tie one end of my homemade blanket-rope to the windowsill. Once it's secure, I hurl myself over the edge of the window, gripping the blanket-rope for support, then I carefully slide through it. I felt the softness of the first blanket, then the second was thin and fragile. The third blanket is a quilt, so I glide through it much more slowly, then my hands start to go red once I reached the fourth blanket. Finally, I hit the freshly-cut grass with ease, and with careful landing.

I've never seen the outside of our house at this hour ever since I was 12, eating roasted marshmallows with my mom and dad. The midnight sky covers the trees and the front gate, and it would've devoured the entire town if it wasn't for the street lights scattered here and there. Catching my breath, I start to make my way towards the front gate. Quietly, I unlock the gate, then quickly lock it shut before leaving.

I didn't dare look back.