Chapter 2

• Years ago...
• "Mom!" I cried repeatedly on the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks, my throat choked, and hiccups making it difficult to call for help. No one came, so I kept shouting until I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
• "Damn it," whispered Nick, running towards me, "What happened to you?"
• With the back of my wrist, I wiped away the tears on my cheeks; I didn't exactly want him to come to my rescue; I didn't want him to see me cry.
• "I fell while trying to reach something high on the shelf," I said. Nick crouched down and examined my injured knee. It was bleeding. Bleeding a lot.
• "Wait here, I'll get a bandage," he informed, getting up.
• "No! Don't leave, stay with me, please," I feared he wouldn't come back. I felt that if people left, they would never return. My father had promised me more than once that he would be back in no time, but he never does. I knew it was childish, but I couldn't help it. Just the thought of my mother or my brother leaving scared me; I didn't want them to leave me.
• "Samantha, I need to get the bandage to help you," he pleaded. I took a few seconds before releasing his arm, and I waited a brief moment before seeing him come back to me. He returned to my level to apply the bandage on my knee. When he finished, I let out a sigh; it hurt, but at least I didn't see any more blood. It took me a while to realize that Nick hadn't moved either, and he wasn't even looking away from my face. I looked closer, and his eyes were fixed on mine entirely. He leaned in a little more to wipe away a tear that was running down my cheek.
• His gaze became intense, almost as if he wanted to cry, I didn't understand why. He leaned slowly in my direction until our lips brushed, and I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it. Suddenly, the touch escalated. It became a hand on my cheek and lips pressing against mine so tenderly that I had to close my eyes. He kissed me; it was my first kiss.
• He pulled away from me and shook his head several times, leaving me confused. He got up as if he had done something terrible and rushed out.
• *Present day.
• "Mom!" I yelled as I ran downstairs to find the tense woman typing on her laptop, surrounded by a pile of papers.
• She worked in finance, and it wasn't unusual to see her trying to ignore me while she worked. It seemed she forgot she had to be at the airport in less than an hour, and we wouldn't see each other for a long time. It didn't matter. We hardly saw each other even though we lived in the same house; she only showed up to nag me about my studies or my private life.
• "What is it, Samantha?" She turned to look at me and smiled, leaving me completely petrified.
• Why was she smiling?
• Seeing my reaction, I realized she wasn't accustomed to any signs of kindness towards me, not in the slightest. It could be considered the typical mother-daughter teenage relationship, where they didn't get along well, but it wasn't usual. We never fought because she terrified me; just one of her looks could make you feel like the most insignificant human in the world.
• "What's the matter, Samantha?" she asked in a sweet tone that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I feared she was planning something or being ironic and would complain at any moment.
• Or perhaps my mother was genuinely in a good mood. How many times had I seen that in my life? I could count them on one hand. Just one hand.
• "I can't find my plane ticket, do you know where it is?" I approached the fridge cautiously to pour myself some juice.
• "No, but your brother probably does," she looked at me and winked.
• At that moment, I went into shock. My mother joking with me? That was new. And it didn't comfort me. She had recently given me a medical check-up, am I going to die or something?
• "Okay, thanks."
• I practically ran upstairs, almost expecting that woman to go crazy at any moment and lash out at me. Exaggerated, right? Well, when it came to my mother, it wasn't.
• I went to my brother's room to find him. I knocked on the door twice, but no response. With the palm of my hand, I started banging on the cold wood repeatedly until he was forced to open it due to my persistence. Jhon was one of the hottest guys at school. He had blue hair, black eyes, and was very tall. But when he opened the door, he looked unrecognizable, disheveled, shirtless, and pale. He must have had a massive hangover from partying with his friends the night before.
• "What's up, Samantha?" his nervous tone didn't go unnoticed; he was in a bad mood, confirming the hangover. I looked inside his room and noticed a girl lying on his bed. Every night there was a different girl in his room, and Jhon knew I wanted to kill him for that. Playing with girls was disgusting.
• "I'm looking for my plane ticket, do you know where it is?" I crossed my arms and tried to look stern, but I knew I wasn't doing well because he burst into laughter.
• "Are you trying to scare me? Don't make that face; it's scary. Have you ever tried putting on makeup? You look like a ghost," he leaned on the doorframe, copying my pose.
• "How cute and funny. Now tell me where my ticket is."
• "It was mom, right?" he inquired, and I just nodded. He let out a big sigh, entered his room, opened the drawer, took out the ticket, handed it to me, and hugged me.
• Jhon and I had a strange relationship. We weren't the typical siblings who fought fiercely and hated each other. He had been with me for five years, and he always took care of me. He always wanted to take on the role of a father with me since I never had one; he left us alone when I was just a baby. I understand that it was tough for him that I was leaving.
• But that doesn't excuse or justify how stupid he was about the plane ticket.
• "When are you leaving?" he asked, not letting me go.
• "In a couple of minutes," don't cry, Samantha.
• "Do you want me to accompany you to the airport?" He looked at the girl sprawled on his bed and shook his head. She deserved the scolding she would get when Mom threw her out.
• "No, thanks. It's not necessary; Mom will take me."
• "No worries. I love you."
• "I love you too. Just don't get anyone pregnant while I'm gone."
• "Tell our stepfather he's an idiot."
• "I will."
• I turned around and didn't look at him; if I did, I knew I would cry, and I didn't want to leave, but I needed to.
• I lived in Portland. I was going to live with my stepfather. Currently, he lives in London, and we'll all be moving there, but I'll be leaving before because my studies start soon, and my mother still needs to sort out the paperwork to transfer her job to a place in London. My brother decided to stay with her. I had to leave my friends, my home, my life, my brother, but I was too eager to go to that university, so I made that decision and firmly believed it was the right one.
• There, my stepfather would be, someone I hadn't heard from in years, with his unbearable sister, and my stepbrother Nick. I considered not going there because of them, but mostly because of Nick.
• I didn't like any of the three. It had been many years since I knew anything about those strangers, and you could say that the last time I saw Nick wasn't particularly pleasant to remember.
• He, my brother, and I were close childhood friends.
• We never spoke again.
• "Samatha!" my mother called, interrupting my thoughts. I went down the stairs, and she was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.
• "Don't yell; I'm here."
• The angry expression on her face told me that her good mood had vanished down the drain. That expression was much more familiar to me than any other. Every time I saw her, she always found something to be angry about.
• "Samantha, what does this 'B' mean? "Samantha, did you study enough for the exam? "Samantha, you don't have to go out" "Samantha, your friend is not a good influence on you."
• "Are you still with him? Samantha, we've talked about this," I raised my hand to indicate her to stop talking. I didn't understand what she was saying.
• "What are you talking about, Mom?"
• "Marcos is waiting for you on the couch; I thought you had broken up with him already," her disapproval made my stomach churn. I would have to endure her complaints throughout the trip. Great.
• "You never said I had to break up with him, Mom."
• I quickly made my way to the living room, ignoring everything else she had to say.
• I've been with Marcos for more than three years, and I'm not going to break up with him. We'll manage to see each other.
• "Hi, beautiful," Marcos greeted, getting up from the couch with a smile on his face.
• "Hello," I repeated, approaching him to give him a kiss on the lips. We both sat on the couch.
• I couldn't believe someone like him was with me. He was handsome, attentive, tender, and he loved me. I couldn't ask for more.
• "Are you all set?" I asked as my mother paced around us, visibly anxious.
• "Yes..." I sighed while fiddling with the buttons on my shirt. "Have you seen Millie?"
• "She said she couldn't come to say goodbye to you because she was crying, and you hate it when she does that," Marcos gave me a forced smile.
• Millie is my best childhood friend, and she's also friends with Marcos. She introduced us three years ago and said we would be perfect for each other. I remember when she said that; both of us blushed, embarrassed the entire night. After two nights, she asked me out, and since then, we've been inseparable.
• "She's right," I continued fiddling with the buttons on my shirt without knowing what to say. I'm not good at goodbyes, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
• "I'm going to miss you so much, I don't know what I'm going to do without you," Marcos announced while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
• "I don't know what I'm going to do without you either," I rest my head on his shoulder, trying to feel better, but it didn't work.
• "Are you sure you want to leave here, far from your family and everyone you know?"
• I think it's the seventh or ninth time he's asked me that.
• "Marcos, we've talked about this; this is my dream, and I'm going to live with my dad; I won't be alone."
• "I know, it's just that..." he paused.
• "It's time to go, Samantha," my mother informed me. I nodded and got up from the couch.
• "What were you going to tell me?"
• He shook his head and kissed me, this time a bit harder.
• "I love you," he said as he separated our lips and hugged me.
• "I love you too," I returned the hug and headed for the door.
• With one last farewell kiss, I watched him walk away down the sidewalk.
• "You should have broken up with him, Samantha," my mother added from the car, with her arms crossed. I rolled my eyes and got into the passenger seat.
• A minute later, I drove away from the house where I grew up, from my neighborhood. I was leaving my life behind to start a new one, a life where I would make my own decisions and no longer depend on anyone. I was starting the life of an adult, with responsibilities and worries. I'm starting my future.
• I've been waiting for this moment forever. My mother instilled in me that I had to go to college to get a job and have a good career.
• I want to specialize in literature, and I believe it's the only decision I've made for myself, without my mother's disapproving shouts. She wanted me to be a lawyer or work in finance like her, but I was never interested in that.