Runaway's Liberation

Chapter 3

Journal Entry #1

If someone were to ask me what I've been learning since I came to this town, it would be how to hide. How to avoid questions. How to slip away every time someone comes by Auntie's house with their polite smiles and inquiries about who I am, why I'm living here, if I'm still in school, or if I have a girlfriend.

To say it's overwhelming would be an understatement. Every day, every week, there's another visitor who pops up out of nowhere, asking questions that feel too intrusive, too personal... those questions that even I don't know how to answer.

But I'm slowly getting used to it. Auntie's well-known around here, like a social butterfly with a network of friends that Uncle can barely keep track of. Meanwhile, his circle of friends is small-mostly other quiet folks like Jere's dad, the helpers, and a few elder men.

Living here, I've learned that downtown is much harsher than I ever expected. I've come to realize I'm fortunate to be staying in Auntie's house, far from the noise and chaos of the town center. It's peaceful here, except for the occasional racket when kids race around outside on their bikes or fly their kites. It's fun to watch them because there's a certain innocence in their joy... a freedom I can't quite reach anymore.

Downtown, though, is where the real weight of the town shows. It's where you'll find all kinds of people: the rich, the businessmen, the ones just scraping by with their minimum-wage jobs, dressed in button-down shirts and slacks, the street vendors hustling for a living, and the lost, like the street kids, beggars, and the idle drifters who just hang around with no clear purpose. And then there are the men who look like trouble—like they've seen things they shouldn't have and could snap at any moment. They stare at you, sizing you up, wondering if you have anything worth taking.

It's exactly why Auntie and Uncle won't let me go downtown alone. They always insist on sending someone with me, no matter how many times I tell them I can handle myself. Their protectiveness runs deep, and while it can be stifling, I know they only mean to keep me safe.

Auntie's community has its own set of flaws, though. Some people here, particularly the middle-aged women, are quick to judge and quick to gossip. It feels like they live for it-talking about others, poking their noses into businesses that don't concern them. They thrive on bashing others, tearing apart lives as if it were just another way to pass time.

Sometimes, Auntie gets caught up in their conversations. I overhear bits of their chatter, and whenever they ask about me, Auntie answers. But then it always goes the same way. They'll tell her how I could easily be led astray, that I shouldn't be spending time with just anyone. They have a long list of people I should stay away from, and somehow, that list always leads to the same person.

That man—the one Auntie warned me about.

It's like everyone in the community knows him, talks about him, yet no one seems to know him at all. They all hate him, yet there's something about him that scares them too. They speak of him as if he's a constant presence in their lives, as if they've been with him every day for years and that justifies everything they say about him.

I don't get it.

And so, I keep my distance. I don't want to hear their opinions anymore. I don't care about the baseless judgments or the rumors that circle around like vultures. It's all pointless.

I often wonder what would happen if Auntie ever found out the truth about what's happened to me. How would she react if she learned that the man they all despise—the one they've warned me to avoid—was the same person who saved me? What would she think if she knew he gave me a second chance at life? Would it change anything? Or would she see him just as they do?