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I adjust my shoulder bag, checking the zipper for the tenth time, ensuring my few belongings and passport are secure. I pull the hood over my head, letting it shroud my features further. While the soft fabric brushes against my skin, it also serves as a protective barrier between the old world I'm fleeing and the new life I so desperately seek.
I inhale deeply, the familiar scent of the hoodie bringing a semblance of comfort. My mother used to say that change was the only constant in life, and standing here, on the precipice of my greatest escape, I realize the depth of her words.
With newfound determination, I push open the bathroom door and step out. The din of voices and the shrill whistles of the trains all blend into a singular hum, a soundtrack to this pivotal moment in my life. Each step is a step away from a life that was chosen for me toward a path I now carve for myself.
As I immerse myself in the crowd, the weight on my chest lightens, replaced with a heady mix of fear and exhilaration. The world beyond is vast and filled with endless possibilities, and I'm ready to embrace it all.
The murmurs of countless conversations and the echo of footsteps blend into a rhythmic cadence that punctuates the vastness of the station. A voice calls out, piercing the steady noise, announcing the departure of the train to Helsinki. A shiver of excitement courses through me as I clutch the train ticket a little tighter. That little slip of paper, so unassuming in its appearance, represents my passage to a new dawn, to freedom.
My heartbeat quickens, echoing the urgency of my steps. My fingers trace the edges of the ticket, feeling its worn texture. The world around me blurs into streaks of colors and indistinct shapes, but my destination is clear. The platform approaches and the gleaming exterior of the train awaits, promising both escape and adventure.
Stepping onto the train feels almost surreal. The warm, cushioned seat cradles me, offering solace after the mad dash it took to get here. My fingers slide over the ticket, lingering on the printed words—Helsinki—a place I've long dreamt of seeing. With a triumphant smirk, I let my hood fall back, a cascade of hair tumbling down. The events of the past days feel like a dream, and for a moment, I indulge in the notion that I've outsmarted the elusive Damien and that overbearing shadow, Oskar. Every clang of the doors, every hiss of the train's engine, feels like a victory note in the song of my liberation.
But freedom is fickle. The moment I let my guard down, reveling in the comfort of the plush seat and the cadenced sway of the train, fate plays its cruel hand. I hear the soft rustle of a newspaper being folded, pulling my attention away from the fleeting landscapes outside. A familiar face, chiseled and stern, with piercing eyes that never miss a detail, peers at me from across the aisle. Oskar.
His lips curl into a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Going somewhere?"
For a second, time seems to stop, and I'm trapped in a bubble with just Oskar and my dashed hopes. The bravado that fueled my escape, the euphoria of outsmarting them, crumbles, leaving behind a heavy despair in my chest.
I let out a resigned sigh, meeting Oskar's gaze head-on. A steely resentment has replaced the soft, poetic musings that painted my world moments ago. "Always one step ahead of me, aren't you?"
He chuckles, leaning back, eyes never leaving mine. "It's part of the job."
Oskar's gaze is unwavering, casting shadows on my newfound hope. His presence—once a mere annoyance—now carries an undeniable threat. The dim lighting of the train car seems to enhance his features, emphasizing the severity of his intent.
"You have two options," he says, his voice a low rumble that barely rises above the noise. "Come with me willingly, or I can carry you out, kicking and screaming. Make no mistake, I will ensure it's a spectacle everyone remembers."
For a fleeting moment, I feel the walls of the train close in, my circumstances pressing down on me. But defiance flares, burning brighter with every beat of my heart. I lean in, close enough that our breaths mingle, and my voice takes on a biting edge. "You think you can intimidate me? Threats might work on those who tremble in your shadow, but I'm not one of them."
His eyes flash with surprise, momentarily taken aback by my audacity. But I press on, fueled by the raw emotions churning within. "You can drag me back, parade me like some trophy you've won. But know this, Oskar, I'm not some fragile porcelain doll. I'll be waiting, watching every move you make. And when the moment is right, I will escape."
A beat of silence follows, tension stretching taut between us. Then, with a resigned exhale, I add, "Fine. I'll come with you. But only because causing a scene would give you too much satisfaction, not because I'm afraid of you."
His face remains inscrutable, but there's a hint of grudging respect in his eyes. "Very well. It seems we understand each other."
I rise from my seat, my movements deliberate and unhurried. As we make our way out, a part of me can't help but wonder if this little act of rebellion will cost me. But another part—a fiercer, wilder one—whispers that this is only the beginning.
The cool embrace of night greets me as I get out of the car. It's said that homecomings should be comforting, but the towering house in front of me feels less like a haven and more like a fortress. Each window, each brick, and each sentinel tree stands as a reminder of the walls built around my new life.
Oskar opens the door to the house and gestures for me to enter. I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. Stepping back into the house feels burdensome, a contrast to the way I was feeling moments ago. The weight I’d been shouldering before getting on the train returns. As I proceed, the quiet wraps around me, much different from the earlier cacophony of the train station.
"Where is he?" The question leaves my lips before I even process it, my voice carrying my exhaustion and frustration.
Oskar raises an eyebrow, "Who?"
"Don't play games with me," I retort, my voice sharp. Damien, my husband. Or whatever he is. Where is he? Or does he intend to continue playing hide-and-seek with his new wife?"
Oskar's gaze lingers on mine, a momentary flicker betraying a hint of sympathy. "He's giving you space," he finally says. "It's safer for both of you."
A sardonic laugh escapes me. "Safer? You say it as though he's some wild animal I should be wary of."
Oskar's voice remains even as he explains, "It's not about him being a threat. It's about the world we inhabit. Lowering our guard and trusting things will be safe isn't a luxury we can afford."
I look around the vast expanse of the room, feeling the solitude pressing down on me. "Can I at least call him? Can I speak to him?"
His expression darkens slightly. "Wouldn't be secure."
A bitter chuckle rises in my throat. "What about a letter then? I promise I won't lace it with any poison."
