Mine to carry

                                                                                   CHAPTER 1

It's surprisingly easy to fit a stolen life into two duffel bags when you have spent eighteen years trying to be invisible.

I sat on the thin mattress in my room, looking at the door—the first door, which had a lock and a key that I could control.

My two bags were on the cold floors; inside them was everything I needed. Three sweaters, a hidden stash of cash, and the birth certificate that I had taken from the table when my uncle was sleeping.

I did take the photo of my parents, the ones whom I lost when I was just four years old. Maybe if they hadn't died in that accident, then maybe I would be an entirely new person now.

Maybe then I would have been happier.

For my eighteen years of life, I had grown up with a man who didn't hesitate to slap me or lock me in a basement for every little mistake I made.

I know that I have put forty miles of distance between us, but it still makes me flinch and tremble whenever I think about him. I never in my life knew what freedom looked like. He used to say ugly things, and I let him. That was the part that stayed with me, not that he left bruises on my skin or said something ugly, but that I let him.

                I opened my bag, taking out the bundle of money I had taken. These are the bundles of money I made while he thought I was in the library studying.

This money will only work for half a month. I need a new job. I –

A noise came from someone banging at my door. I flinched before my brain caught up. The bang hit the door, but for me it sounded like my uncle's fist. My heart stopped.

Just a door. Just a door.

I am safe.

I hid the bundle of money in my bag, shoving it inside as I got up to open the door. Outside was a woman standing in her mid-thirties, but her eyes were the colour of bruised galaxies.

"I am the warden of this dorm” she said as she peeked inside. “How many of them?” Her question was confusing to my lost mind. Seeing my expression, she asked again. “Are you alone?”

“y..yes”

She wrote it down, “Another girl will be here by tomorrow”. I nodded to her, closing the door as she went.

I knew this was a shared room, but I still booked it because of the low cost.

I certainly did not want a person to live with me or see any of my scars. And in fact, living with the constant smile on my face to pretend that I'm fine is actually so exhausting. But of course I have to. It will be the only way to avoid the fake pity that people give you.

From the day I was a child, I had a dream of having friends by my side. To know that I am also worthy of being loved and cared for, but I never got a friend. Some of them left me by saying it's exhausting to be with me except Ava. She was my childhood best friend, the only person my uncle would let me talk to because of some family connections. 

Sometimes I just think, how can anyone be my friend when I feel disgusted by myself? When I am the one who covers every mirror in my room so that I don't have to see my face again and again.

I am new to this town, and I don't know where to find a job. I have been walking for the last forty minutes in this cold breeze, looking for a ‘help wanted’ sign.

My last hope is the library. just five minutes of walking. If I get this work, then half of my problem, which comes from not having enough money, will be solved. The streetlights were flickering on as it was becoming night. My spiraling thoughts were above; I didn't even realize that I reached a library. “How can I help you?” a voice said

“Can I meet your manager?”

“Yes,” she said, directing to where the manager was sitting. He was in his forties, wearing spectacles and reading something in a newspaper.

“Are you hiring?” I asked. I hated this question every time it was a refusal. “I'm looking for any kind of work,” I added before he asked me further.

“Yes, we do need a person to be a library assistant. You have to manage books and provide customer service,” he said. “The salary is one five hundred Euros for one month, and the time is from evening till night”.

Five hundred Euros. Isn't it low for someone who is working as an asana assistant, but anyway, instead of having no money, it's better to have low money. And it is better for me if I have a night shift, then I can manage going to university too. Thinking about university. I never got to enjoy school; every step I took was like a threat. Fifteen-year-old me would have never thought that I would leave behind the abuse and my uncle. I want to at least now enjoy life. I want to go to university to make friends and live a life that I didn't get to live, though life really is a free trial of hell that I can't cancel.

“Your name and number,” the manager said.

No, I can't give my number. I have to buy a new number so that my uncle won't be able to contact me. Knowing him, he would be cursing now, cursing my room and finding a way to contact me; luckily, I have switched off my phone.

“... Clara, my name is Clara laurent. About the contact, can I give it tomorrow?”

“without having your contact. How can I hire you, young girl?" He said in a tone that made me anxious.

"I am sorry, but I promise I will give you tomorrow itself.”

"Sorry is not a deliverable." He finally looked at her, expression completely flat. "Tomorrow. And if tomorrow becomes another sorry, don't bother coming in at all.”

“Yes. " Thank you,” I said as I came out of the library. My anxiety is making me sweat after having a normal conversation.