Chell ran away when he was 15.
Too young to be on his own, but old enough to figure it out. At least he thought so. When he made that plan, he looked on a map and pointed to the furthest city he could get to and booked a train. He rummaged through every hiding spot in his room for hidden allowance, pooled it all up and counted every cent. He planned, and waited for the perfect night. His father away on business, his tutor gone home, his mother buried in a book in their big fancy library he always hated.
Grabbing the bag he stashed in the back of his closet filled with the bare necessities, some clothes, his meds, toiletries, anything he could think he’d need. He had tried to get his documents, like his birth certificate but his father kept it under lock and key.
He’d just have to make do without for now.
When the house was quiet he tiptoed down the grand stairs he grew up running up and down. His hand sliding down the old mahogany, polished to a smooth finish. He hadn’t expected to see his mother, standing there at the door with a glass of half drunken wine. Like she expected him to emerge, all packed and clothed.
She didn’t say much. just stood there with that same sadness in her eyes she always had. He expected her to stop him, even waited for the scolding. The questions, but she just watched him. So he slowly stepped down, till they were so close he could reach out and touch her.
“I’m sorry…” she muttered, her words ever slightly slurred. “I hope… you never return here.”
Chell hesitated before he opened the door, letting in the cool night air. He looked at her one last time, taking in the details of her face, how her years of frowning had etched themselves permanently in her skin. Her face is slender, almost gaunt in the harsh light.
She had none of the softness a mother should have. It felt like she had given all of it to Chell when he was born. given away all her sweetness in him. That’s what he told himself anyway, a way to imagine her sweet and kind. Maybe he took it all away from her, like a leech.
“Bye… mom.” is all he could say before he stepped out into the cold, closing that door behind him for the last time. Sunday snuggled closer to him, hidden around his neck. To preserve warmth and give him some comfort.
By morning he was in Strost.
And it was beautiful. Stepping off onto the platform, looking up at the city he’ll now call home, the warm orange and light shining down on the millions of buildings, homes. The city waking up together. He was no longer tired, all anxiety fleeing his body as he walked into the streets, looking around in awe, people all around him making their morning commutes. Families walking their children to school and businessmen bustling to their jobs. School girls meeting up, screeching in excitement to see each other. Boys running in the streets, chasing each other, teasing and joking around.
This was a new start. His new home.