Chapter 2: How It All Began (1)
A few years ago...
I gaze melancholically at my snow-white shoes. My ocean-like blue eyes drift down to my phone, my shoulders sinking as if weighed down by an invisible force. Without realizing it, my leg swings up and down in a quarter-time rhythm. My headphones are slightly too loud—loud enough that anyone nearby might hear the muffled melody leaking out. But I sit here alone, lost in the silence of the night.
The bus is modern, its seats unusually comfortable for public transport, even equipped with seat warmers. My white shirt drapes loosely over my torso, while my fingers move slowly, tapping against my knee as if wielding drumsticks. My eyes are reddened, shimmering under the soft rose-tinted glow of the bus's interior lighting. Yet, despite the heaviness in my chest, a faint smile curls on my dry lips as the song reverberates in my ears.
If the world was ending, I wanna beee— Silence.
A soft beep from my headphones. Then, my phone screen goes black. I stare at it. Just stare. My shimmering eyes threaten to spill over, but I swallow the lump in my throat. My nose runs. A deep sigh escapes my lips. I lift my gaze from the dark screen to the ceiling of the bus, waiting for a few seconds before turning my head toward the window. The city outside seems so calm. Houses, trees, streets—all blurred together, slipping past as I flee through the night in this bus.
Everything fades eventually. Nothing is eternal. Not houses, not streets, not this city. Not friends. Not possessions. Not family. Not even me.
I keep staring out of the window, the image of the city distorting in my vision. I hate myself.
I hate how powerless I am.
I hate that all I can do is swallow the thorns instead of spitting them out.