Liberation and hope

Though the instinct to scream for help rises within me, I know deep down that it would be futile. There's a reason they can confidently do this to me.

With each passing moment, the world grows dimmer, the sounds of Jane's laughter and James' mocking voice fading into the background. In the final moments of consciousness, I find myself reflecting on the choices that led me to this point. Was it fate, or simply the cruel hand of destiny that brought me here?

I close my eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop me, embracing the inevitable end with a sense of resignation. In this moment of quiet surrender, I find a strange sense of peace. As the last vestiges of life slip away, I let go of the pain and the bitterness that have plagued me for so long.

*

At 18, I was granted entry into a prestigious university—a beacon of hope in the midst of a tumultuous home life. My stepmother's relentless cruelty, coupled with the constant torment from my half-siblings, had made my childhood a living nightmare. The acceptance letter was like a lifeline, promising a chance at escape.

Leaving my family behind, I stepped onto the university campus with a mix of excitement and apprehension. It was a world entirely different from the one I knew, and despite the newfound freedom, I found myself struggling with loneliness. Having never made friends before, I felt like an outsider looking in.

Then, like a serendipitous twist of fate, I met James. He came from a modest background, working for a struggling tech company, while I was the unassuming girl from a large interplanetary shipping company.

Our paths crossed during a group project, and I was immediately drawn to his warmth and easygoing nature. James was everything I wasn't—charming, confident, and popular. I, on the other hand, was reserved, timid, and unsure of myself. Yet, despite our differences, he took an interest in me, offering to study together and helping me navigate the complexities of university life.

In those early days, I mistook his kindness for something deeper, something genuine. As we spent more time together, my feelings for James grew rapidly. When he proposed marriage at the age of 20, I was swept away by the whirlwind of emotions. It was a decision that went against my family's wishes—I can still vividly recall the scornful looks from my siblings and the disappointment in my father's eyes. But in that moment, I was convinced that love could conquer all.

James persuaded me to leave university to support him in "building our future." Eager to prove my devotion and believing in our shared dreams, I willingly dropped out and threw myself into supporting his endeavors.

My ideas proved invaluable in his rise to success. With my guidance, he won the run for succession within his company, transforming it into an interplanetary powerhouse.

As James's star ascended, so did his arrogance and entitlement. He began to take credit for our joint achievements, dismissing my contributions as insignificant. When his own ideas led to setbacks and losses, he would return home with lavish gifts, trying to appease me with flowers and jewelry. And foolishly, I would forgive him, caught in a cycle of manipulation and emotional abuse.

Now, as the last moments of my life slip away, I find myself grappling with regret and bitterness. I realize how hollow my existence has become, how I sacrificed my aspirations and independence for a man who never truly valued me. If I could turn back time, I would choose differently. I would reclaim my dreams, my self-worth, and my dignity.

In this final moment of clarity, as the darkness closes in, I make a silent vow to myself. If given another chance at life, I would live it on my own terms, embracing every opportunity and challenge with courage and resilience. And as the world fades to black, I whisper a prayer for a second chance—a chance to rewrite my story and live a life that is truly my own.

*

Sitting amidst a breathtaking valley of blooming flowers, I find myself lost in the beauty of the scenery. Is this what it's like to pass into the afterlife? The tranquility of the surroundings washes over me, bringing a sense of peace that I hadn't felt in years.

Suddenly, a figure appears beside me. At first, the form is indistinct, a vague silhouette against the backdrop of vibrant colors. But as I turn to look, the figure becomes clearer—a feminine presence, vaguely familiar yet shrouded in mystery.

"Hey," the figure says softly, breaking the silence that envelops us.

"Hello," I respond, my voice barely above a whisper.

"How was your life?" the figure asks, plucking a daisy from the ground and offering it to me. Its petals are delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh realities I've faced.

"It wasn't a very good life, honestly. But I'm glad it's over," I reply honestly, the weight of my experiences heavy on my heart.

"I'm so sorry, my little Leona," the figure says, and as I look closer, the features become unmistakable. It's my mother, her face filled with a mixture of love and sorrow.

"My baby, your pain would tear me apart every time I watched over you," she says, cupping my face in her hands with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes.

Before I can fully process her presence, she abruptly stands up, pulling me to my feet with her. Confusion clouds my mind as she leads me to the edge of a fast-moving river, its waters rushing by with a relentless force.

"I don't have much time before I'm caught," my mother explains, her voice urgent yet filled with love. In her hands, she produces a warm light that seems to emanate from within her very being. It's a comforting warmth, familiar yet elusive.

Suddenly, the warm light transforms into a seed, glowing softly in her palm. With gentle care, she places the seed into my open hand, its energy pulsing against my skin.

"I'm breaking many rules, but you're my baby," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. Alongside the seed, she places the daisy she had plucked earlier, its petals still fresh and fragrant.

Closing my palm around the precious gifts, my mother leans in to give me a soft kiss on the forehead. "I love you," she whispers, her words a balm to my soul.

And then, without warning, she pushes me into the rushing waters of the river. The shock of the cold water envelops me, the current pulling me under with a force that takes my breath away. As I tumble and twist in the churning river, I cling tightly to the seed and the daisy, their presence a lifeline in the tumultuous water.

In that moment, as I surrender to the flow of the river, I feel a sense of liberation and hope wash over me.