(Elira's POV)
And tonight—
I would finally be fucking free. The thought echoed in my mind like a promise I wasn't allowed to break, sending a strange mix of excitement and fear through my chest.
Freedom sounded beautiful in theory… but reality? Reality was messy as hell. Unpredictable. Dangerous as shit. Still, I'd take that over this life any damn day. At least out there, if I suffered, it would be on my own fucking terms.
And honestly? That alone felt worth everything. I grabbed my bag from the hook near the door and slipped outside quietly. The morning air was cool, brushing against my skin like a soft reminder that the world existed beyond those suffocating walls.
The street was half asleep, the silence almost comforting. For a moment, I just stood there, breathing. "See?" I muttered to myself. "The world didn't end. Congratulations. You survived another goddamn morning."
Today I had to go to school. For the last fucking time. Not because Aunt Malry or Uncle Ron sent me. They never cared enough for that shit. I went because I fought for it. Scholarship. Hard work. And a lot of pretending that my life was normal. What a fucking joke.
I walked toward the small garage beside the house and pushed the creaky door open. Inside—rusty tools, broken junk… and my skates. The only thing in this world that felt truly mine.
My lips curved into a real smile this time as I dropped my bag and sat down, quickly tying the laces. "Alright," I whispered, "let's go."
The moment the wheels hit the ground, I pushed forward, gliding down the street as the wind rushed past me. And just like that—freedom. Not complete. Not permanent. But enough. Enough to remind me what it felt like to exist outside of control.
Skating wasn't just a hobby. It was escape. It was identity. It was the only thing that made me feel like I wasn't just surviving—but actually fucking living. Sometimes I even earned money performing near the market. Not much. But enough to prove something important—I could survive without them. I could actually make it.
Today was Sunday. I slowed down near the entrance and quickly removed my skates, slipping them into my bag before putting on my boots. No need to attract unwanted attention. Inside the building, the hallways echoed with silence.
I walked straight to the principal's office and knocked on the door, my knuckles tapping lightly against the wood. "Come in," a voice called from inside. I pushed the door open and stepped in, the familiar smell of books and paperwork hitting me instantly.
Principal Harris looked up from behind his desk, adjusting his glasses as recognition flickered across his face. "Oh. Elira." His brows pulled together slightly. "I thought today was Sunday."
"It is, sir," I replied, trying to sound normal even though my chest felt a little tight. "But… I came to collect my documents." For a moment, his expression softened, like he already knew what I was about to say before I even said it.
"You're really leaving, aren't you?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yes, sir." He studied me for a second longer than usual, like he was trying to figure something out—maybe me, maybe my situation, maybe the fact that someone like me was about to disappear from his school records like I was never there.
"You're one of the brightest students we've had," he said finally, his voice calm but heavy. "It's a shame your family doesn't support your education." I forced a small smile, the kind that looked polite but didn't reach my eyes.
Honestly, I didn't even know what he wanted—whether he actually gave a shit or just didn't want to lose his "top student" trophy. I mean, let's be real, I visited this office almost every fucking day… and not for praise. More like for lectures. For fights. For being "problematic." Yeah. That's me. The school's official troublemaker.
But let's just clear one thing—I always fucking win. And yeah, I'm damn proud of it. Call me petty, call me aggressive, call me whatever the hell you want, but if someone gets on my nerves, I don't just sit there and smile like some obedient little doll.
The whole school knows me as the "bad girl." Honestly? I kind of fucking love that title. At least it's real. Unlike the fake smiles people wear to survive. Still… there's always that stupid contradiction inside me. Because if I had even half that courage at home, maybe things would be different.
Maybe I'd stand up to Uncle Ron. Maybe I'd stop taking everything so fucking quietly. But I don't. And I hate that. I hate that part of me that still feels… grateful. Grateful for a roof. Grateful for scraps. Grateful for survival.
It's messed up, right? One side of me can beat people without hesitation, and the other side can't even raise her fucking voice in her own house. What kind of personality even is that? But I guess… that's just me.
The "genius" who can't fix her own damn life.
And speaking of genius—yeah, there's that too. Funny how people only see one version of you. At school, I'm either the troublemaker or the prodigy. No in-between. My IQ is 160. I've won competitions, brought in trophies, carried the school's reputation like it was my personal fucking responsibility.
I'm a sports champion too, by the way. Not bragging—okay, maybe a little—but it's not my fault I'm fucking good.
One professor even said I had "Einstein's soul." Imagine that. Me. A girl who sleeps in a storage room like a goddamn animal. Sounds like a sick joke, honestly.
They even offered me opportunities to study abroad. Big ones. Life-changing ones. The kind people dream about. And I said nothing. Because I already knew how that story would end.
If Uncle Ron found out? That opportunity wouldn't be mine anymore. It would turn into profit. Into control. Into another fucking chain around my neck. I learned that lesson early—back when I won prize money in an elementary math competition. He took it. Just like that. No hesitation. No mercy.
That was the moment I realized something important. Never let them see your worth. So I hid it. I acted average. Played dumb. Stayed low-key. Even when the papers got harder, even when the scholarship was nearly impossible to get—I still made it.
Quietly. Carefully. Without drawing any fucking attention. When the principal tried to call them to tell them about my results? They didn't even pick up. And honestly? That worked perfectly in my favor. Because now… I'm free to leave.
No expectations. No control. No one trying to turn me into their personal money-making machine. Sometimes I think about it—if I really wanted, I could already be something big. A name. A success story. Maybe even a goddamn tycoon someday.
But right now? Right now, all I want is to fucking run. That's it. No big dreams. No long-term plans. Just escape. Just freedom. I do have some money saved—competition prizes, small earnings from skating—but I don't know how long it'll last. A few days? Maybe more if I'm careful as hell.
After that… I'll figure it out. Maybe get another scholarship. Maybe rent a small apartment. Maybe just survive one day at a time. Because sometimes… survival is the only fucking plan you need.
"They… support me in their own way."
He didn't look convinced. Still, he opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. "These are your transcripts and certificates," he said, sliding them across the desk. "Your guardian already signed the release form."
I tried not to smile too widely. Yeah. About that. Let's just say Uncle Ron had a very easy signature to copy. Forging documents? Honestly, child's play when you're smart enough.
"Thank you so much, sir," I said quickly.
Principal Harris leaned back in his chair. "Where will you go now?"
"I… haven't decided yet." Not exactly a lie.
"Just be careful out there, Elira," he said. "The world isn't kind to girls your age."
Neither is my fucking house, I thought. But I simply nodded.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that." I left the office clutching the folder tightly. One more step toward freedom.
Outside the school gates, I stopped and thought for a moment. Now came the tricky part. If Aunt Malry asked where I went… I needed a believable story. Because if I told her I went to school, she'd get suspicious as hell.
Today was Sunday after all. So instead, I rolled toward the nearby superstore. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh.
Bright lights flooded the aisles. I grabbed a small basket and began picking random groceries. Bread. Vegetables. Rice. A bottle of oil. Nothing too expensive. At the checkout counter, the cashier gave me a tired smile.
"Busy morning?"
"You could say that," I replied. Once I paid, I packed everything into a bag and headed back home. When I reached the house, I entered through the garage and set the groceries down. Then I walked inside.
Right on cue—"Where did you go?" Aunt Malry's voice cut through the living room like a fucking blade. She and Uncle Ron were sitting on the couch watching TV like always. I had expected this shit.
"I went to buy groceries," I said calmly, lifting the bags.
She looked at them for a moment. "Hmph." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Next time go earlier. We were running out of food."
"I understand."
Uncle Ron barely glanced away from the television. "As long as lunch is ready on time," he grumbled.
"Yes, Uncle."
Aunt Malry waved her hand dismissively. "Go cook." I carried the groceries to the kitchen and began preparing lunch. Rice. Soup. Fried vegetables.
Back in the kitchen, I started cooking while listening to the TV from the living room. Laughter. Noise. Fake normalcy. I rolled my eyes slightly. "What a happy fucking family," I muttered under my breath. "Someone should give them a goddamn award."
I noticed something strange today, and honestly, it didn't sit right with me no matter how much I tried to ignore it. From morning until now, Nila hadn't come near me even once. No taunts, no sarcastic comments, no petty bullying—nothing. And that was… unusual.
No, scratch that. That was completely fucking abnormal. Because bothering me wasn't just something she did—it was practically her daily fucking routine, like brushing teeth or breathing.
From childhood until now, I don't even know how many things she's done to me. Too many to count. Too many to even remember properly. Some of them… yeah, I'd rather not think about them.
Not today. Not when I'm this close to leaving everything behind. Honestly, maybe it's better that those memories stay right here, trapped in this house like everything else. I'm not taking them with me. I refuse to. But still… back then, it hurt like a bitch.
Of course it did. I was just a kid. A stupid, hopeful little kid who thought things might get better if I just endured long enough.I remember going to Aunt Malry once, thinking maybe—just maybe—she'd actually do something.
Say something. Care, even a little. But instead, she just brushed it off like it was fucking nothing. "She's just pranking," she said. "Why are you crying like you're going to die?" And sometimes it was, "Don't be such a coward, Elira."
Funny, isn't it? How pain gets labeled as overreaction when it's not happening to them. At some point, I stopped going to her. Stopped expecting anything. Because what's the fucking point of asking for help when the answer is always the same?
You either get ignored… or blamed. And eventually, you just learn to shut the hell up and deal with it. That's survival too, I guess. A quiet, ugly kind of survival that tastes like shit.
But now? Now it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not that little kid. I'm not standing there waiting for someone to save me. I'm leaving. That's my answer to everything they ever did. Not revenge. Not anger. Just… leaving. Because sometimes the strongest thing you can do is walk away without looking back.
Still, I won't lie—it's suspicious as fuck. Too quiet. Too peaceful. Like the calm before something stupid happens. And knowing my luck, something usually does.
But whatever. If this is how my last day here goes—quiet, uneventful, almost peaceful—then I'll fucking take it. For once, life can keep its drama to itself. I've had enough of it already.
When lunch was finished, they ate like starving fucking wolves. I watched in disbelief as Uncle Ron reached for his third plate. "How much can these assholes eat?" I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" he barked.
"Nothing!" I said quickly. I don't know who's going to cook that much fucking food for them when I'm not here.
Because I bet Aunt Malry must have forgotten by now how to cook anything. Well, that's my victory. They'll know my value now. They'll realize what they had.
After thinking that, I was practically floating on cloud nine. 'Hehehehe, I hope they starve to death.' After cleaning the dishes, I quietly slipped upstairs.
Back to my "room." The storage space looked the same as always. But this time, I wasn't just looking at it. I was saying goodbye. I pulled out my small bag and began packing.
A few clothes. My documents. The money I had saved. My skates. Everything I needed to disappear. Then I sat down on the mattress and stared out the tiny window.
The sun was slowly moving across the sky. Soon it would set. Soon night would come. And when it did— I would finally leave this place forever.
And never come fucking back.