Siena walked on the cold white floor tiles in the place she never wanted to be. Outside that room, the sky was grey, but her heart was even more somber. Even on the brightest day in this place, she felt blue. She tried to remember the last time she felt free, enthusiastic and delighted. Not here, definitely not here.
A memory came flashing back in the back of her mind when she walked through the small garage. The noises she heard from this room everyday. Her mom's old red Honda 70 was parked there. She was only 5 in the good old days. Running towards her mother's lap with a big gracious smile on her face. Excited by everything she might find in the plastic bag her mom has been holding for five minutes.
It was a long time ago, long before she knew about the pain. The pain of trying to be an adult for her parents. The pain of trying to keep sane, when nothing was normal. The miserable pain and fears she sensed every single step she took in this place.
"Hey, when did you come back?" a nice lady from the house on the corner noticed her presence. The neighbour who knows all of her family's dirty secrets. Who listened to all the yells and screams a couple times a week. And so do other people in that not so big and quiet neighbourhood.
"Yesterday" she answered. "But I'm not staying long," she added before the neighbour offered a cup of tea and asked a million questions about her life now. She knew she would not even be interested in answering one single question of Mrs. Wants-to-Know.
Her life was rough but she made it through, is the only fact everyone needs to know. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't. I only want to write about it". Or maybe she was just tired of being asked about her dating life. Has she found somebody? Or she's too scared to date anyone because she was afraid that any guy she dated would turn into her dad. She was just so tired of people's assumptions and also her own merciless thoughts about herself.
She spoke in her heart. Ah stop it. Why do you keep talking to me, and why do you keep complaining about your rough childhood? She asked herself impatiently.
Should it be done now, should she be healed now? She's 30 now for God sake. Anyway, who even has a healthy childhood these days? I'm sure everyone had their own trauma back in their childhood. Their own scars. Tell me who's dad has been loyal to their mom? Tell me who's mom has not been running away from their house every now and then?
Stop. Stop. Stop it. I don't want to hear it. Stop bringing me back to the past. She slapped her own face. Angry of every emotion emerging from this place.
People called her fearless. She's been to anywhere in this world now. Packed her bag and moved from one place to another. Unafraid of what might come her way. She climbed countless mountains, drove on the most frightening and terrifying roads in Southern Europe, and spent the coldest night in the wilderness in Northern America with only her backpack. None of those things were scaring her. Not like when she's here. Not like when she stands so close to the cold white floor tiles that are as cold as the winter night.
The cold white floor tiles smirking back at her. As it knows something about her that nobody else knows. About that icy day when she spent the night alone in that exact same place, bleeding inside. Wanting nothing but to disappear. Her feet were trembling.
Her phone suddenly rang. It was her brother.
"You've been home for too long, go back on the road"
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