Journey Home

~ 1 ~

The bell chimes,
the day ends, but to Raine all of it feels far away, as if he's stuck in a surreal universe. His brain works on orders whispered by a messed up societal construct, his limbs move the way they want him to, his heart pumps blood and it's the only thing it does.

He remembers when he didn't shy away from the sun, when in his heart he harboured a garden where primroses and sunflowers would bloom.

To Raine it felt like those memories weren't his, something so pure and something so vibrant; he definitely couldn't be the owner.

The bell chimes for a second time and Raine feels the urge to hit it with his bare fist until his knuckles become raw.  It was a windy day, the leaves changing their golden hue in favour of a bloody one. They crunched under his feet, on the other side on the field there was a bunch of kids; the so called popular ones, but to Raine this hierarchy  was a mystery he couldn't figure out.
As he increased his pace, a certain green eyed boy hailed him over. Matthew, he had known him all his school life and the aforementioned boy even proclaimed them as best buddies but then again Raine was never able to afford these small luxuries. The moment he stepped beyond the wrought iron gates which were peeling off at places that very moment he would have to forget this universe, and another one would be waiting to suck him in.
The muscles of his cheeck stretched in a weird arc. His mother used to describe the arc as beautiful, but to him it definitely felt weird.
He saw these American faces everyday but he still felt out of place, it was not a matter of social status, but was a matter of not belonging. He never belonged, neither at home nor at school, but he was thankful for the education.
Ten minutes went by in an idle chatter but the moment a group of sorority girls passed by Rainer took it and snuck away.

The leaves crunched pleasently and the birds chirped, a bunch of children stopped by an ice cream van. The sky was various shades of pink, purple and scarlet.
As he went on the streets got narrower, more cramped and he heard shouting at almost every nook.

He stopped in front of a door, ninety percent of the times it was unlocked, as he kicked off his shoes Rainer saw the man resembling only the shell of what his father used to be. He never knew who was the one to give birth to him, didn't wish to know.

The man seated on the couch didn't look a day more than thirty, with a brunette head that was always touseled and the only giveaway was his hollow eyes. A mere shell without a soul. He pulled at his roots, made a face and fell against the couch. He looked defeated.
    
                         ~•~•~•~•~•~

Raine microwaved the leftover pizza, and as he stood waiting for the timer he felt something prickle his feet. A shard of glass was the miscreant drawing a trickle of blood. A broken box of white pills was lying in front of the sink the rest thrown in the trash.

His father was moaning on the couch hands in front of his face in a protective stance the hallucinations made him paranoid.
Things couldn't go like this, Raine thought.  He phoned the guys from social security service and made an appointment with the psychological rehabilition centre.
He'll get better soon, Raine fooled himself.

In his room he sat at his desk with his sketchpad, his mind felt like a tangled web of thoughts. Dark and strangling. As his paintbrush touched the rough paper his mind felt noticeably lighter.
He felt the urge to run.
So he did. He packed a jean hoodie, a pair of black jeans, few t-shirts, a couple of plaid shirts, a jacket to keep him warm and an extra pair of converse. He threw in his sketchpad, emptied his savings in cash and then took out the credit card that his grandarents left under his name. He was ready. With the duffle bag on his shoulder he got in the old toyota and with with the few extra bucks he scrounged in the neighbourhood, he set off.

After two kilometers or so the gas tank beeped. He hadn't even thought of gasoline, his father never had the money to fill the tank. Thievery was his only option at 12:35 pm (yes,he checked his watch). He went into the garage of a nearby house and as he was about to make it out alive with a gallon, the dog barked. The dog barked, of course, convenient.

And then, he ran. Raine a young Iranian boy, with the physical prowess of a dying bug, ran for his life.
His life now had shrunk into a sketchpad and a credit card both of which he got as a gift on his twelfth birthday. The credit card didn't have huge bucks, it had memories, the vibrant memories which felt stolen.
He ran and ran, decelerated into a slow jog and then ran some more.

And as he felt the wind in his hair, the hard cement of the highway under his feet he felt as if he has sprouted wings and hat were coloured by his memories, and adrenaline maybe. He felt alive, and for the first time amidst the unknown he felt that he belonged.

Felt as if he was on his journey home.

                           •~•~•~•~•~•

Hey y'all. This is my first attempt to write something on wattpad, something I feel connected to. There's a Raine inside all of us and soon you'll get your wing too.  And if you like it don't forget to vote or to leave comment, I'd love to listen from you people and what you think about Raine.                 
                                            love, Srijani ;3

//////started: November 10, 2019//////