You were never meant to leave.

The words hung in the air.

They tasted of iron.

Of old blood.

I sat at the table.

The wood was cold.

It bled into my skin.

My father stood by the door.

His coat was wet.

The rain had stopped.

But he was still damp.

He looked at me.

His eyes were gray.

Like the sky before a storm.

We had built this house together.

Or so I thought.

We had laid the bricks.

We had mixed the mortar.

My hands were scarred.

The scars were white.

They marked my life.

Every line was a choice.

Every choice was a debt.

He spoke again.

His voice was low.

It cut through the quiet.

I did not move.

I could not move.

The air was thick.

It pressed against my chest.

I felt the weight of the room.

The weight of the years.

The weight of the silence.

He had trusted me.

Or he thought he had.

I had believed him.

I had followed.

I had obeyed.

I had given everything.

My time.

My strength.

My youth.

Now he said I was leaving.

As if I had chosen it.

As if I had the power.

The power to go.

The power to stay.

I looked at the floor.

The tiles were cracked.

A small spider moved.

It was fast.

It was alive.

It did not care about our words.

It only moved.

I envied it.

My father turned away.

He walked to the window.

The glass was fogged.

The world outside was gray.

The trees were bare.

The wind moved them.

They shivered.

They did not fight.

They just moved.

He raised his hand.

He wiped the glass.

A clear circle appeared.

I saw his face.

It was old.

It was tired.

It was full of sorrow.

I saw my own reflection.

It was small.

It was pale.

It was a ghost.

He dropped his hand.

The fog returned.

He spoke one last time.

Go.

The word was simple.

It was final.

It was a wall.

I stood up.

My knees were weak.

My heart was heavy.

I walked to the door.

My hand touched the handle.

It was cold.

I turned it.

I stepped out.

The rain had stopped.

The air was cold.

It bit my face.

I walked away.

I did not look back.

I could not look back.

To look back was to break.

And I was already broken.

I walked down the road.

The road was long.

The road was empty.

I walked until my feet hurt.

I walked until the sun set.

The sky turned red.

Then black.

I stopped.

I sat on a stone.

The stone was cold.

It held me.

It did not ask questions.

It just held.

I thought of the house.

I thought of the bricks.

I thought of the mortar.

I thought of the silence.

I thought of the trust.

I had misunderstood.

I thought the trust was real.

I thought the bond was strong.

I thought the family was whole.

But it was not.

It was a lie.

It was a cage.

And I was the bird.

I had to fly.

Even if I was wounded.

Even if I was alone.

I stood up.

I continued walking.

The night was dark.

The stars were out.

They were small.

They were far.

They did not care.

They just shone.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

I reached the river.

The water was dark.

It moved slowly.

It made a sound.

A low hum.

It sounded like a voice.

It sounded like a name.

My name.

I knelt by the water.

I dipped my hand in.

It was cold.

It was clean.

It washed the dirt from my skin.

It washed the blood from my mind.

I looked into the water.

I saw my face.

It was not my father’s.

It was not the ghost.

It was mine.

It was real.

It was alive.

I stood up.

I walked on.

The river was behind me.

The house was behind me.

The past was behind me.

I walked into the future.

It was unknown.

It was empty.

It was mine.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

The sun rose.

The light was pale.

It touched the ground.

It touched my face.

It was warm.

It was gentle.

It was new.

I stopped.

I looked at my hands.

The scars were still there.

The lines were still there.

But they were not white.

They were brown.

They were part of the skin.

They were part of me.

I had not been betrayed.

I had been released.

The trust was not a chain.

It was a key.

I had held the key.

I had forgotten.

Now I remembered.

I walked on.

The road was long.

The road was clear.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

I did not stop.

I did not look back.

I did not fear.

I was free.

The air was fresh.

The air was full.

I breathed.

I breathed.

I breathed.

I was alive.

I was here.

I was now.

The past was gone.

The future was open.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

The world was big.

The world was quiet.

I was small.

I was part of it.

I was not alone.

I was with the earth.

I was with the sky.

I was with the wind.

I was with the rain.

I was with the river.

I was with the stone.

I was with the life.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

The end was not an end.

It was a beginning.

It was a breath.

It was a step.

I took the step.

I took the breath.

I was alive.