Every Ending Is A New Beginning

Here I Am

I got to the subway at 3:30 just as planned. It was generally empty, since the train to the airport was the only one running at this hour. I gave the guy at the gate my pre purchased train ticket. He nodded and handed it back hesitantly. I couldn't blame him. What was I doing at the subway at 3:30? Even I wasn't exactly sure.

As I boarded the train, I glanced at the other passengers. Homeless people, druggies, they were all here. It was like being back at the house. I sat as far away from anyone as I could.

As the train started, I began to imagine what was going to be happening at the house today. People would be rushing in and out. The smell of food would waft through the air from the kitchen. Smoke would fill the living room, and I knew 5 or 6 people would be sitting around a bong.

And then Josh crossed my mind. I smiled to myself as I imagined his face when he would see the money set on his dresser. I pictured him being happy. But then I thought of how he begged me not to leave. How the money wouldn't last for long. How disappointed he'd be. And I stopped smiling. That was noting to smile about. I had betrayed him by leaving in the middle of the night. I had left him on his own.

Just like everyone else had done to me.

Suddenly, I felt like I had to go back. I had to go back to make things right. Not to sneak off, but to be upfront about it. To say goodbye. I knew what it felt like to be left behind, not knowing what would come next, and I didn't wish that feeling upon anyone. But I had put it upon Josh. He'd wake up, see the money, and smile. But then he'd read the note. And his smile would fade. He wold sit on the end of his bed running his fingers through his hair, trying to think of a way to survive. He was the last chance for a lot of these kids. And I was his.

I didn't feel relieved anymore. I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes as I wished Josh to understand. I hoped he would realize that all I wanted was a sense of family, a sense of belonging.

But then again, was that all I wanted? Or did I want to be cared for as well? All these years, I've been telling myself that I'm okay with being neglected, that I don't need anyone. Part of me wonders, though, if I would be this sad if someone had cared enough to stop me. Then I remembered. I pulled the bottom of my pant leg up to reveal my fading scars. I hadn't cut since my parents died. It had been somewhere around three weeks, the days all jumbled together in my head. That was a record for me. Two weeks clean. Somewhere in the back of my head I heard the pain and sadness calling me, reminding me how lonely my blades were. But I pushed it back, as I leaned against the window and fell asleep.

I awoke to a loud beeping noise, the two minute warning for the train to leave. Hurriedly, I grabbed my luggage and made for the doors. I had awoken just in time to get off the train. Otherwise, I would've missed my flight all together. Most of those that had been on the train with me were still there. Probably only a few of them could pay for plane tickets. The one that's couldn't afford it but still got off at this stop were probably going to stand at the busy street corner.

As I walked across the street to the airport, it looked almost dead inside. Very few cars were stopping to drop people off, and there was no rush of people walking out like usual. When I stepped inside, I was astonished to see how alive it really was. There were children in their pajamas being carried around by their tired fathers and mothers, business people that were already in their suits, and couples of all ages walking hand in hand. Not once did I see another lone teenager like me.

After I had gone through baggage and one security check, I stopped and bought some books. I bought one called "My Brother Sam Is Dead" because I remembered it was one of dads favorites when he was about my age. It was historical fiction -not my favorite genre- but I picked it up anyway. A coming of age book about finding yourself and learning to make choices on your own. About a boy during the American Revolution having to choose to join his brother Sam and the rebels or his father and the Brits. He has always looked up to his brother, but he has always strived to impress his father. Kind of like Malfoy. Through out the entire Harry Potter series, Malfoy was only trying to measure up to his fathers standards. But look how that turned out.

Malfoy helped to teach me that every villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told. He was my favorite character in the series because he was so vulnerable, so misunderstood. He's the reason I don't judge people for doing things wrong, for making bad choices. That person might be confused or trying to find themselves or just angry because of something that happened.

Once this guy at my school was super obnoxious and he got in trouble a lot. But he only acted that way because he thought so little of himself. He thought "If I'm that low of a person, why don't I just act like the kind of person I am?" It turns out he was suicidal and he cut. One day he cut a vein, and as soon as he was out of the hospital, he was shipped off to a mental hospital for three months. When I found out why he behaved the way he did, I felt so guilty and terrible for every bad thing I had ever thought or said about him because I knew what it felt like. I never looked at him the same way. All because I knew his story.

I passed through the final security check, and bought a small box of cereal, and a carton of milk. I sat by my gate and ate the cereal. The time came for me to board my plane, and I did so eagerly. I fell asleep again as I watched the plane take off , leaving behind everything I'd ever known.

"This is your captain speaking. Please put on your seat belts and do not get up. We are preparing to land."

The lights of my head lit up. I sighed. I had just woken up and I was ready to leave. Between the loud music in front of me and the loud snoring behind me, I was well beyond annoyed.

As the plane landed, I suddenly became very anxious. What if they didn't like me? What if they didn't want anything to do with me?

These were both possibilities that inhabited my mind 24/7. Of course, there was nothing I could do about it. I stood up, and walked out with the crowd. When I arrived inside the airport, I noticed the people were different in the way they interacted with strangers. There seemed to be less eye contact, which I was okay with. I went to baggage claim and got my suitcase. I looked at the giant clock on the wall to see the date.

December 7, 2010.

Almost Christmas time. A lot of the people on the plane were probably coming home for Christmas. This would be my first Christmas away from home, and possibly on my own.

"Here I am." I thought. All alone in a giant airport in a country that I am not the least bit familiar with.

I saw the man holding a sign with my name on it. I walked up to him.

"Hi, sir. I'm, uh, Jessica Folley." He looked at me.

"Ah yes, I'm driving you home."

I nodded and he turned and opened the trunk. He put my bags into the taxi. He didn't seem like a conversationalist, so I didn't try to talk to him during the drive. Half an hour later, we arrived there.

"Here you are." He said.

I got out of the car and stood in front of the house. Here I am...