Chapter 1 The Weight of Leaving

The sound of my prosthetic leg hitting the pavement is the only thing I can hear.

Click. Click. Click.

It is the loudest noise in the world, echoing off the buildings like a drumbeat marking the start of something I am not sure I am ready for.

But I am already here. I cannot go back now.

My breath catches in my chest as I stand on the curb.

The familiar streets of my hometown are quiet this morning, just like they always are.

The world does not know I am about to make the biggest decision of my life, and somehow that feels both terrifying and liberating.

I step forward again.

Click. Click.

I try to walk faster, my heart thumping in my ears.

"Eliaca."

I stop, frozen, like I have just been caught doing something I was not supposed to. But I know that voice.

I turn, heart racing. There she is. My mother, standing across the street with her arms crossed, her face unreadable.

The look in her eyes is all too familiar. It is the one she always gives me when I am doing something she does not approve of.

"Where are you going?" Her voice is calm, too calm, as if she already knows I cannot answer her honestly.

I hesitate. "Just out," I say, trying to sound casual, but the words come out tight.

"Out?" She raises an eyebrow. "And what is 'out' supposed to mean, Eliaca?"

I am already feeling the weight of her gaze, the invisible chains that bind me to her.

I can feel her disappointment in the pit of my stomach, like a stone dragging me down.

She is always disappointed. Always expecting more. Always waiting for me to be something I am not.

"I just need some air," I mutter, my words barely above a whisper.

Her lips tighten. "You are never going to change, are you?"

The words hit me harder than they should, but I am not about to let her see it.

I turn away before I can lose control, before she sees the tears that are threatening to spill over.

I do not look back. I cannot.

Click. Click. Click.

I keep walking, ignoring the sudden tightness in my chest.

I need to go.

The world keeps moving around me, oblivious to the storm inside my head.

People pass by without noticing me, as if I am just another face in the crowd.

No one cares that I am about to lose everything I have ever known. No one cares that my family expects me to fail.

"Eliaca?"

I hear the voice again, sharp this time.

I do not have to turn to know who it is. My sister, Vanessa. Her tone is full of concern, the kind that makes my stomach twist into a knot.

I take a deep breath and stop. I do not turn to face her, but I know she's there.

I can feel her eyes on me, just like I can feel the weight of my mother's disappointment from a mile away.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice softer now.

I do not want to talk to her. I cannot. Not now.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

There is silence for a moment, just the sound of the traffic in the background.

But I know she is still standing there, waiting for me to say something, anything that would make everything feel okay.

"You know Mum is not happy about this," Vanessa says. I can hear the worry in her voice.

I close my eyes, letting the noise of the world drown her out for a second. "I do not care. I am not her, Vanessa.

I cannot keep living this life. I cannot be the person she wants me to be."

I feel her move closer, her footsteps slow and deliberate. I finally turn to face her, and her eyes are filled with something between sadness and confusion.

"What are you saying, Eliaca?"

"I am saying I cannot stay here. I am leaving. I need to find something for myself. Something that is not about them. About you."

The words come out sharper than I intend, but I cannot take them back.

Vanessa's face falls, her lips parting as if she is about to argue.

But she does not. She just stands there, looking at me with those eyes; eyes that still think I am her little sister, the one who needs protection, the one who cannot possibly make it on her own.

"You are not going to make it," she finally says, the words cutting deeper than I expect.

"Do you think you can just walk away from everything and be fine? You will fail. You will end up coming back."

I want to scream at her, tell her she does not know anything.

But I do not. I swallow the frustration, push it deep down.

"I do not care if I fail," I say quietly. "At least I will know I tried."

She stares at me for a long moment. I can see the hurt in her eyes, but I cannot back down now. Not when I have come this far.

"Do not say I did not warn you," she mutters before turning and walking away.

Click. Click. Click.

I watch her walk back to the house, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt. I cannot stay here.

Not in this place, not with the expectations, the judgment.

I need to breathe. I need to be free.

I keep walking.

I find myself standing in front of the bus station before I even realize it.

The sign above the entrance flashes in neon lights, the words Tickets Sold Here blinking in my face. My chest tightens again, but I push the fear aside.

I pull out my phone, my hands shaking as I scroll through the bus routes.

My destination is clear in my mind, but everything else is a blur. I cannot go back to my family. I cannot stay here.

A bus pulls into the station, the roar of its engine making my heart race. I stare at the door, frozen in place.

I have always hated the idea of leaving. The uncertainty. The not knowing what comes next.

But now, the uncertainty is all I have.

I step toward the bus, my leg clicking loudly with every step.

The door slides open, and I step inside. The air inside is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the street.

The driver gives me a quick look, but he does not say anything.

I walk down the aisle, find an empty seat by the window, and sit down.

I do not know where I am going. I do not know what I am doing. But I know I cannot stay.

The doors close behind me, and the bus lurches forward.

As we pull away from the station, I press my forehead against the window, watching my old life fade into the distance.

For the first time in years, I feel like I am finally moving forward.