SPEAK¹⁸

3

And here i am with chapter 3 it's short i know but i have reasons for that...

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I never knew that speaking about your emotions could be so refreshing, to feel like a weight has been lifted—a weight that I've been carrying around for far too long. I need to work on getting over it and moving on. It's the best thing I can do.

It's what I need to do. 

So as I stood before my apartment door, hands nestled in the pockets of the thick flare pants I was wearing, my eyes stared ahead. My lip was captured between my teeth as I rolled it in and out slightly. My braids flowed down my back, and my feet tapped lightly against the floor. The only thing on my bundle of nerves was healing from the pain.

A few bags lay behind me, packed with my most precious belongings, things I held dearly to myself a few years ago. I had searched through all my things looking for something that reminded me of the last two, almost three years, but it seemed there was nothing to do except cry during those times. The only things I had that vividly reminded me of those years were the multiple unhealed wounds on my heart.

I needed to leave. This place held memories, memories that I was subconsciously holding onto. Memories that snatched at my heart and tugged at my mind. I needed to let go.

As my father said, "I cannot sit around and watch my only child waste her life." I owed that commitment to myself. I couldn't sit around in my only life and waste it because he wanted to play knife-throwing with my heart as the target.

I couldn't give him more. I had already given him a lot—my heart, mind, soul, trust, and womb. I had given him everything I had, and now it was time for me to take some things back and regain control of my life.

A knocking sound echoed from the other side of the door, bringing me back to reality. I averted my gaze and turned on my heels, making a few footsteps over to the suitcases and bags. My hand reached out, grasping the handle of one of the suitcases and pulling it. With my foot, I nudged the bag over to the door, leaving the largest suitcase for my dad to pull.

My eyes swept around the room for what I wanted to be the last time. My jaw clenched, a betrayed tear slipping from my eye. I didn't let it fall. My hand reached up and swiped it away before it could slip from my face. Determined, I forcefully pulled my gaze away from the walls and focused it on the door before me.

With a reluctant heart, trembling hands, and teary eyes, I held the door and quickly pulled it open, scared that if I didn't, I would just run back into that room, too scared to face a change.

Nothing but the empty hallway greeted me. My eyes darted around, my feet pushing forward to see if the person who had knocked on my door was still in the hallway, or if there was even anyone there. I looked to the left—nothing but an empty hall. Turning to the right, my eyes caught sight of something. "Alexa," I spun around, coming face to face with a male version of myself, only lighter-skinned. My father stood before me. He looked a lot different. The constant FaceTime calls in the past three months, where he tried to convince me to go home, didn't allow me to see that difference.

"Dad?" My voice cracked, almost opening a floodgate. My fingers interlocked behind my back, nervous that I would get a scolding for being so stubborn. My father stared at my face long and hard. I could feel my eyes welling up at the intensity of his gaze. I gnawed at my cheek, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes shifted from mine to look behind me all the way down the hall. His eyes lowered at whatever he was looking at before he averted his gaze back to me.

"Did you pack your stuff?" he asked, his eyes darting into my apartment. I released my fingers from the lock and nodded before taking a step towards the door. I pushed the door open with my foot and then grabbed the suitcase at the door. Dad came in, looking around a little before his stare landed on the suitcase that was still a little way into the room. His footsteps were heavy as he went to collect it. I stood off to the side, continuously wiping tears from my eyes.

He dragged it through the door with ease, then collected the bag and instructed me to lock up. I did as told, and we were on our way down the hall and into the elevator.

Once outside, I gathered all the courage I needed to speak up. "Dad, how are we taking all of this on a plane?"

He didn't respond quickly. Instead, he continued walking. After a few minutes, he responded, "I didn't come by plane," he said. I perked up, a smile threatening to come to my face. "I came by truck," he said, pointing to where the truck was parked across the street. That smile that was threatening, I allowed it to come forward.

"We're traveling by truck?" I questioned, even though the evidence was there.

He nodded. "Just like old times."

Just like old times…

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922 words