The Addiction

The Addiction - Chapter 2 Pt 3

Continuation: 

I lull my head against my pillow as I grunt from stiffness. I can feel the torrid sun light from my window burn into my lower back. 

I stretch slowly, pushing myself away from my bare mattress, but then a feeling of major uneasiness fills my body. At first, I didn't understand what it meant, but then I remembered what had happened yesterday, and I realized that I had slept from the afternoon to morning.

" Oh lord." I mumble, pulling myself to my feet. The suitcase is still in the same position, untouched, with the exception of a few scattered items caused by my stumble earlier. I grimace at the bag, realizing that I hadn't received the answer I had wanted. Instantly, my mind begins to retrieve memories with my parents under this house. 

My mother and me were in the living room when I had turned 18. I had brought up the idea of me going to an actual university to further my education. All she did was smile, shaking her head as her teeth flashed bleached white.

"Oh honey. Let me tell you something. Sit, sit...You are a pretty and blossomed woman now. Actually, I've been keeping my eyes on your development and your body had matured a whole lot faster than others. And still blossoming. To men in the outside, it can be a pretty sight, enough so  that they won't be able to keep their hands to themselves. If we let you go, there will be men who will feel tempted to... "

She started whispering,  which only made me shiver with uneasiness.

"well, disgrace the image that god wants you to portray. Do you understand why it wouldn't be that good of idea for you to leave? Especially for something like university, you don't need it. All you need is to be guided and safe by us." 

I self consciously covered my sizable bust as I realized what she was saying.  I remember nodding, and returning to my room, having a new fear of the outside world. 

Now in the present, I'm staring at myself in my mirror, involuntarily pulling my arms over my chest, and thinking about all the horrid stories I would hear to keep me under their roof. I falter in my thoughts. 

Maybe it would be best to stay just a little more longer. Just to get my mind together. Another year wouldn't hurt.

I stare cautiously into the mirror, hugging myself tighter as paranoia and anxiety hits its peak in my mind.

"I can't do this..." I breathe, my heartbeats accelerating. I try to calm down, but everything he  said yesterday had pulled me back to square one. I reluctantly sever my eyes from my mirror and instead placed them on the suitcase, and realized that I was doing it again. I was doing what I have done so many times before. Faltering, then took 10 steps  back to the beginning. 

Each year I would do this, and each year they would find even more reasons to keep me staying under their roof. Enough is enough.

I once again pack my belongings, making sure to carefully fold larger items so most of my belongings can fit. 

Then I pull out the handle and set it next to the door. As I said before, today is the day, and it wasn't going to stop for anything. Then, I see one last item, shining on my white desks as the sun squints at it through my window. When I lift it up, it warms my fingers from years of staying there, set securely for one purpose. 

I turn over the piggy bank and open the bottom, lapping out wads of cash that I've acquired from cousins, my grandparents, and uncles/aunties on my birthdays. I always would tell my parents that the piggy bank was almost empty, and that I never used it. They didn't find any reason to question my lie, and my relatives never told my parents whenever I was handed down money. When they do, my parents would just take it for "safe keeping". 

On the contrary, I had acquired around $2000 probably, from when I was young to now.  I have never spent one dollar for this purpose. I secure the money in the small purse I'm taking with me, and look around my room for the last time. 

Then my eyes drift to the ceiling, but my mind took me further than that. I envisioned the clouds and bright blue sky up above and prayed, asking God to protect me on my path. I will not ask again if what I am doing is right or wrong. All I can do is move on, or things will just stick the same forever. 

I walk out the door with the suitcase, and I can feel my legs buckle under the weight of having to confront my parents. They're probably in the living room, reading bible verses or watching the christian pastor who always showed on Tv on sundays. I hold my breath and force myself to take the last remaining steps before I reached the living room. 

Their backs are facing me when I walk through the entrance, but my skin crawls when I hear my father's abyssal voice fill the room. He turns his neck slightly from where he's sitting on the couch, the christian channel still playing on the flat screen in the background. 

"You didn't listen to what I had told you?" He questions quietly. I gulp, but force my eyes to stay focused on the back of his head. My mother doesn't say anything but continues to nonchalantly watch the suited man walk around on stage, hailing god every chance he got. 

"No... Be-because I don't need them. I want to leave." I stutter, clutching the handle of the suitcase firmly. 

I don't know how long I've watched them. They sat still, not moving or responding, their eyes glued to the tv in front of them. They were ignoring me and I knew exactly what point they were getting across. If I didn't get back into my room and act like the good little girl I am, if I didn't put down the suitcase and return to normal, if I didn't respect their wishes to live here, careerless and ambitionless, then they would do the same thing they did to Gared.

Shun me. 

Now I have to choose. My legs feel like jelly as I step forward... towards the door. My eyes watch them conscientiously, waiting for some type of curse to screw from their mouths and hit me, waiting for them to tell me I won't last an hour in the real world, that I will be eaten alive. But nothing. Nothing at all.

They don't move as I make it to the door and grasp the brass knob. My fingers go white as tears sting my eyes. I knew at that moment, if I looked back, I would've stayed. I would've ran to my room crying and unpacked all my things swiftly. i would've forgotten about this day and tell myself over and over again that I'll just try again next year. And the next year after that. And the next year after that...

But instead, with a mild creak, the door swings open, and I smell the fresh Houston Texas air. 

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