Runaway's Liberation

Chapter 3

Journal Entry

If someone asked me what I’ve been learning since coming to this town, I’d probably say this: how to hide. How to avoid questions. How to quietly slip away every time someone visits Auntie’s house with their polite smiles and curious eyes. They'd be asking who I am, how old, why I’m living here, whether I’m still studying, or if I am still single.

Answering these questions would be easy if they actually cared. But they don't. They just wanna peer. They just don't wanna miss out on the talk of the town.

It's just because I'm new.

To say it’s overwhelming would be an understatement. Every day, every week, another visitor appears out of nowhere asking questions that feel far too personal. I don’t even know how to answer some of it myself.

But slowly, I’m getting used to it. Auntie is well-known around here. She’s like a social butterfly with so many connections that even Uncle can barely keep track anymore. Uncle, on the other hand, keeps his circle small. Mostly quiet people like Jere’s father, a few helpers around the area, and some elderly men he spends time with.

Living here has also made me realize how harsh downtown actually is. I never expected it to be that way. Now I understand why Auntie and Uncle prefer keeping me here at the house. It’s peaceful here. Except when children run around outside racing bicycles or flying kites beneath the afternoon sun.

Sometimes I watch them for longer than I should. I don't know. Maybe I just envy them. I don't wanna explain it further.

Downtown is different. That’s where the real weight of this town lives. It’s crowded with all kinds of people—the wealthy businessmen, exhausted workers dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, street vendors trying to survive another day, and those who seem completely lost in life. Street children. Beggars. Men who loiter around corners doing nothing except staring too long at passing strangers.

And then there are the dangerous ones.

The kind of men who look like they’ve seen too much and survived it badly. Men whose eyes immediately size you up the moment you walk past them, silently wondering whether you have anything worth taking.

It’s exactly why Auntie and Uncle refuse to let me go downtown alone. No matter how many times I insist I can manage myself, they always send someone with me to babysit me. It's annoying but I know they just care.

But if you ask me what I like more between the downtown and auntie's community, I'd probably say neither.

Some people here—especially the middle-aged women—are frighteningly quick to judge others. They gossip like it’s second nature to them, poking into lives that have nothing to do with them just to have something entertaining to talk about. Sometimes it feels like they survive off rumors alone.

Auntie occasionally gets caught in their conversations. I overhear pieces of them sometimes whenever they ask about me. Auntie answers politely, but eventually the topic always shifts the same way.

They warn her about people I should avoid.

And somehow, every single warning always points back to the same person.

That man. The one Auntie warned me about.

It’s strange. Everyone in this community seems to know him, yet no one truly does. They talk about him with so much certainty, like they’ve spent years understanding every part of him, yet their words always feel hollow somehow.