Almost 21

Chapter 1

Total chaos. That's how Mary would describe her life. And it is always seen, with the way she ties her hair in the most messy way, with the way she almost gets only the first T-shirt she sees right off her closet, crumpled, of course, and with the way she almost just forgets to tidy up a bunch of her notes inside her god-aweful old bag. You can literally see pieces of her anywhere in her house-that's the most poetic kind of way anyone can describe her home situation. But she never really cared. Not when she's got more important things going on inside her head.

Mary is just Mary.

"Sunset! wohooooo!" Oh! That's her favorite line. She'd always purposely go home late to witness the enchanting beauty of the sun bidding goodbye. Somehow, that's the only therapy she could afford.

She took her phone from her pocket and frowned. "Argg! Not now, please!" It's no surprise. Now she only has to enjoy the view without taking any pictures of it.

She took a deep breath before walking out of the bus. Here it goes again: home.

"Mary! For goodness sake! Take off your shoes before going inside!"

And she's done what she was told; her expression has not changed a tad bit. She's used to it. To her mother shouting all the time.

"Oh, your father will not go home today. Let's dine together." The sound of plates touching can be heard from the kitchen, but that was not the reason for her to stop walking.

"Father? Why? Did he say he's busy for work?" She paused in her mother's silence. "Ah! Of course, you believed him. God knows he's with another..." "Stop!!!" her mother's voice echoed inside their home, like thunder any child would be afraid of. But when you're used to it, it equates to being numb from the never ending beating.

"Your father has changed. You don't have to disrespect him like this!"

For her, her statement was merely true and nothing close to disrespecting her father.

She doesn't want things to escalate with her and her mother. She knew her mother would never stop defending her father like a mad woman. She knew it because this was not the first time they had a conversation like this.

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Mary's dimly lit room has not changed; she goes home to it with the same situation, just like how she left it in the morning-messy. She hung her bag on the hanger at the back of her door, kicked everything out of her way, and slammed her body onto her mattress.

Exhaustion is all she felt, and she knew good music would help her heal. She took her phone, only to remember that it had shut down earlier.

"Arg! Could this day get any better?" She stood to have her phone charged. She knew she couldn't just look at the ceiling for hours, waiting for her phone to finish charging, so she decided to go out for a little walk.

Her mother was not in the kitchen when she got out. The house is silent. She wanted it. 

The sky is clear. The stars were shining like God was playing with silver dust above. The moon is crescent, curving like a smile that Mary was anticipating seeing after a long, tiring day. The air that touches her skin is cold. She smiled. The beauty before her eyes is so perfect, she wishes someone would look at her that way. 

'No! Silly, silly thought! You are not meant for moments like that!' 

Her thoughts. Her thoughts always have their way of ruining beautiful moments, whether in her reality or imagination.

She watched everyone while sitting at a bench at a distance enough for everyone not to notice her. She watched them live their lives like they had it all figured out. She watched them laugh and talk and laugh again, while there she was on that one corner, merely existing and completely unnoticed.

She walked again.

She went inside a coffee shop, ordered one large iced coffee, and sat at her usual spot—always away from anyone. Everyone there is with someone else, and she is the only one who came there alone, but that's not something she cared about. She wanted a good sip of coffee; she's there to satisfy herself and not anyone else.

Before she knew it, she'd been home. Again. 

She tiptoed her way into her room to go unnoticed, but, "Where did you come from?" Guess the tiptoeing did not work.

"Just somewhere out," she answered without even looking at her mother, who is just behind her.

"You know it's not safe outside at night! You could've told me you're going out! I'm your mother still, in case you forgot."

Her mother told her that with an emphasis on "mother".

"Now you are," she said in a tone that she knew her mother would never like. And just like that, she disappeared from her mother's view without notice.

The world outside is loud, but she felt more at peace there. 'Comfort of her own home' is never a phrase in her vocabulary, as there was never anything comfortable inside their home. None. Because everything in there is a memorabilia of memories that can't be undone.