No Escape

She wrapped her shawl closer to her and kept walking. Where? She kept asking herself, but again she just kept walking, wandering on and about, never stopping for any reason. The sun was shining; people were laughing, but not her. She was alone, and indeed she wants to be. She wrapped her shawl closer to her, for the weather was not cold; but she was. She found a shabby old café. But she felt that it was the café. Edging closer, looking inside, she remembered. Flashes of memories, of happiness, of bitterness, of her smiling gleefully, of her tears falling on the floor the waitress was just sweeping. No, no, no she didn’t want to. She doesn’t have the desire, the want of remembering. She turned sharply, got out from that corridor, and went away. Wrapping her shawl, again closer to her, she walked faster. Faster she went, but they did not go, they kept budging her, wanting to know more, but she didn’t want to. She lightly touched her head. The headache that now never leaves her is just getting more, as if it’s insisting on going there too. But on and on she went until she couldn’t no more; it was beating her down, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She sat on a bench and pressed her hands on her head. They are getting clearer, as the old man now coming and giving her an old smile, then frowns at her state, which he only made worse; for he reminded her more and more. She couldn’t stand it anymore; she was now losing her consciousness. She could see a lady stepping in and talking; which she couldn’t hear; it was obscured by the laughter of a little girl in her head. Her eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, the laughter getting higher and higher, now mixed with tears of bitterness. She barely managed to touch the object inside her pocket when she finally gave up, closed her tired eyes where a tear was trying to etch its way, but in vain.

Her head rested on a soft couch, but her mind floated away. Glimpses of a hospital room, fast breaths running through empty, dark streets, crying and turning her head frankly everywhere. She was shaking from head to foot. But she needs to find a hiding place, and fast. She was deep in thought, inspecting the space around her, until she tripped over a rock and fell on the ground, where her head sharply hit a bigger, solid rock. She tried to stand up, but she couldn't. She touched her forehead and looked at her blood-stained hand. She screamed, but someone gently shook her and whispered something, until she finally opened her eyes, leaving that scream in midair. When she did, she saw the shadow of a lady that she later recognized as the one in the street. She smiled, and then she helped her up, sitting up straight. She touched her forehead, and she found that it was not bloodstained at all. She saw that the lady came with hot soup in her hand. She placed it on a near table and said:

“What is your name?”

She thought of a name really fast and she said:

“Lenora”

“The doctor said you need to get rest. Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No, I'm fine. I can call them later.”

“Are you sure? You look really pale.”

“No. thank you very much, but I have to go. Thank you for your kindness”

She stood up, found her jacket, and shawl lying on the other small couch. While she was picking them up, the women smiled and said:

“I always saw you when you were a little kid.”

She stared. Impossible. How could she? 

“Do you know me?”

“Why, of course I do, and I do know that your name is not Lenora, my dear” she paused here, then added, “I would like to know what happened to you.” 

“Just dozed off. Those days I’ve been tired lately”

“Oh please, just tell me what really happened”

She hesitated, but then looked at her eyes, deep blue that had her lost face looking for an answer, an answer about the mysterious lady’s identity. She didn't seem even familiar, how could she have known her?

“I am sorry, I think you are mistaken. I must go, thank you for your hospitality.”

She took a final glance at the woman, and to her surprise, she saw sadness etched on her face, as if longing for something, or worse, remembering. There, she turned really fast and got out of the door. Walking out of the place, she froze for a moment, her eyes wide with shock. How in the world did she find the door, how in the world did she? She had the feeling that the house was so familiar, but not the lady, so how? But she ignored this “how” and all the other questions that gave the meaning of: this house is familiar. If this house was familiar, then she needs to get out of here. What should she do? Where should she go? She wanted to escape all this misery, all those nightmares that keep following her. She went back to that same bench and found the old man sitting there, and when he looked at her he smiled. She sat slowly and went deep into thought. She didn’t have those weird memories like the ones she remembered when she first saw him, which was comforting. He was looking at the sky, in a dreamy way that was kind of weird for an old man like him. She turned and looked at the ground that was filled with leaves. Autumn. Then the old man suddenly spoke with a weak, soft voice that gave her a sense of comfort she rarely felt.

“Glad you're okay. Mrs. Smith was really worried”

Smith. The name was really familiar. Really, creepy familiar. But she didn't want to know. Why are they all insisting on following her? She never and will never want to. She shook her head, trying to remove all those thoughts. The old man noticed her uncomfortableness and resumed his staring. She, too, looked up. She found it kind of calm, soothing practice that gave her an idea.

She is then decided. 

Walking for the first time with purpose, she headed to her destination. It was a big place with people of all kinds, all carrying big bags or children. Her bag, on the other hand, was a light duffle that only carried what would she really need. An hour later, she was there, at last. Going and never returning. She chose the most unfamiliar place ever, Spain. Different language, different culture, different everything. No smith, no anything, not even memories. That woman told her it would take two hours non-stop, from London to Spain. She let a sigh of relief that marked the end of her miserable, memory-filled life. She rested her tired head on the chair and went into a deep sleep. 

The lady sitting beside her later woke her up saying that they need to leave. She walked slowly, afraid of what might come next. What might come? Nothing! It’s the end. The end of all that life that you knew before, right? But a feeling of insurance escorted her through the big airport. when she got out, she saw an old lady that had deep blue eyes, and when she looked at her she saw that she had sadness traced all over her face. She turned quickly to the other side, walking fastly and ignoring the sight she had just seen. Old ladies are familiar, you know. No one does not know that. When she looked again, she found a man that looked dreamily at the sky, as if longing to be there. No, no, no, everything is so wrong! 

How could that happen!  Then, as she turned her face to the small corridor, she understood what all this was. It was a shabby café that had a waitress cleaning the floor, and some visitors eating happily in it. 

The first couple of days would be like this.  Of course she will. But as the days passed, weeks passed and at the end of her first month, she could bear it no longer. Millions of that smith lady and millions of that old man were now everywhere in the streets. The café was following her everywhere too. She can't bear it. But she also understood what it meant. There was no escape. She will keep trying, anyway. But for now, escaping is useless.

 This time, she headed to the airport. Going to the reception lady, she steadily said:

“I need a ticket for a flight to London.”