Chapter Text
Macy stared at the ticket booth, contemplating whether she should have bought one. The flickering lights of the underground subway and the chilling winds gave her a sense of loneliness. The weight of her backpack pressed against her shoulders, pulling her down until they ached.
Should I go back? Macy thought. Again? This would be the fifth time.
The screeching of the distant trains morphed into sounds of yelling. "Go back home!" they said. "Don't come back!" Macy exhaled sharply and turned to the exit doors. Again. This wasn't the first time she tried to run away. It was always the price of the cross-country train that sent her back... Five hundred dollars for a one-way ticket to Miami. Macy had exactly five hundred, but buying it meant leaving herself with zero dollars for food or shelter once she arrived. The pat-pat-patting of her sneakers echoed throughout the empty subway, filling up the tunnels as she dragged herself towards the doors. Suddenly, everything went dark. The distant chatter of pedestrians on the street quieted, and the cold winds strengthened their power. The big, red exit sign was a blinding sight in the darkness of the room. It slowly flickered off, leaving a pitch-black atmosphere. The darkness made Macy oblivious to any of her surroundings. Scared and unaware, she tightened the grip on her backpack with her left hand and pushed towards the area where she'd last seen the doors. Without warning, an ear-piercing alarm let out furious screams, reverberating throughout the subway. A storm of snow flew into the room, and a dim streetlight slightly lit up the area in front of Macy, revealing a long flight of stairs. She pressed against her ears to try and stop the pain from the echoing alarms.
"Hey, you!" A voice yelled out. "Get back here!"
Macy flipped her head around, smacking her own hair into her face. Pulling the strands out of her eyes and mouth, she saw the distant silhouette of a man in heavy snow gear running straight toward her. Her eyes widened into saucers and she turned around to face the stairs. Taking a deep breath, Macy slammed the heavy exit door behind her and flew up the stairs. Her untied sneakers left trails on every few steps, and she hoped the man wouldn't be able to follow her from them. Deep down, she knew that he surely would be able to. Macy ran until she couldn't, and was relieved at the sight of her house. The lights beamed from the windows onto the street, which gave her a chill. Her parents were home. She realized she had outrun the man, and he'd lost track of her.
Macy wheezed, trying to catch her breath after running nonstop through miles and miles. Her legs felt like jelly, and as soon as she quietly shut the front door, she collapsed. The world seemed like a blur. The snow landing in her eyes had created so many tears.
"Where have you been?" Amelia said. Amelia was Macy's younger sister, a five-year-old who was completely oblivious to what had just happened. Her sweet, soft voice was melodic to Macy's ears, and she was glad to be home. She'd missed seeing her blonde pigtails and her chubby, red cheeks.
"I was just..." Macy really didn't want to lie to her sister. She wouldn't understand anyway if I told her... she thought. "I was at the subway! Now, shouldn't you be asleep?" Macy asked. Amelia tilted her head, as if she thought Macy already knew the answer. Her eyes gleamed in the warm light of the lamp next to them. "Mommy said I could stay up until you got home! She said something about knowing you'd be here soon, so I waited for you." Suddenly, a furious voice pierced through their interaction. "Macy Maeve Evans, get over here right now!" Oh boy.
As Macy turned around to drop her backpack from her left shoulder, she noticed a sweaty mark from her palms had soaked the fabric.
"Good luck!" Amelia said as she shrugged and skipped off to her room. Macy sighed and slowly shuffled towards her mother. She was standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Her lips were pursed, and her overly drawn-on eyebrows were pinched into a V-shape. Her hair was messed up, and her mascara was smudged.
"This is the fifth time this month you've run away. Explain yourself." She looked down at Macy's shoes in disgust. "You ruined those," she said, "so take them off before you ruin the floor, too." Macy sighed and looked her mother in the eye.
"I hate this place. It's the same life every day, and I don't know how to escape it!" She had never yelled at her mother before. Macy hoped that her mother would feel bad for her, for once, but she immediately realized that was a foolish move.
"Excuse you! There's running water, unlimited food, and you have an education! There are kids who are dying from hunger and you're over here complaining about the 'same life!' I work nine to five every day to get you food on the table, and this is how you repay me? Get out of my face before I smack you!"
"Go ahead." Macy crossed her arms and stared at her mother.
"Get out of my face," her mother said. The last time she slapped Macy, she got reported and almost went to jail. Unfortunately, she bailed herself out. Macy rolled her eyes and grabbed her backpack. She stormed up to her room and threw it into the corner. Macy never bothered unpacking her bag anymore because she knew that she'd just grab it and run away sooner or later.
I should probably get ready for bed, she thought. Macy stretched her arms and made her way over to the bathroom. She took her hair out from her low ponytail, brushing her brown, wavy hair. The highlights she’d gotten without permission had faded. She wanted to redye them, but the fear of getting her phone taken away again stopped her. Macy grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed out the remainder of toothpaste onto it. She ran it under the water and started moving it back and forth aggressively. She could hear her mother bickering on the phone to her therapist about everything that had just happened. I wonder why she won't get me a therapist but she'll get herself one, Macy thought. But then again, therapists are creepy. They stare at you when you cry and tell your parents about everything. Macy learned this from her school counselor, Mrs. Winters, who ruined her sixth grade. Mrs. Winters said she wouldn't tell Macy's parents about her trauma dumping, only for her to realize Mrs. Winters had lied when her mother started making comments about things that could make Macy happier. She always relied on Asher as the person she'd vent to, and he relied on her. Asher was Macy's best friend, and for some reason, they were constantly shipped by classmates. They seemed obsessed with trying to get them together, but Macy always saw Asher as a brother, not a crush. Brooks, however, was seen as a crush to Macy. Not just any crush, but the absolute hottest crush that she'd ever seen. His dark brown hair, tan skin, and diamond studs always made Macy lose her words when she saw him. She'd never stopped talking about him to herself or dreaming about him. Asher never knew about this crush because she always found it awkward to talk about boy crushes to other boys. Especially someone seen as a brother.
Macy spit out her toothpaste, rinsed her mouth, and tossed her toothbrush into the drawer. Exhausted, she flipped off the light switch in the bathroom and headed to bed. She buried herself in the covers and grabbed Pom Pom, her teddy bear that she'd slept with ever since she was a baby. Some would call it pathetic or childish, but Macy loved Pom Pom. She talked to him every day and hugged him while she slept for good luck in her dreams.
I hope I dream about Brooks today... Macy telepathically said to Pom Pom.