Between Love And Lies

RUNNING AWAY AND RETURNING

FOUR.

The morning air was cold and sharp, cutting through the thin walls of the small house like a warning. Joy stood at the doorway, staring down the narrow street, her bag slung loosely over her shoulder. The last few days had worn her down...physical exhaustion, hunger, constant rejection, and the endless whisper of judgment from relatives and neighbors.

She had tried to survive. She had tried to endure. But the pressure pressed harder than ever, and for the first time since her parents' death, she felt a whisper of rebellion.

I can't do this. Not like this. Not alone.

---

Aunt Marge had visited again that morning, her sharp voice slicing through the quiet room.

"You cannot handle Ella alone, Joy. Look at you..starving yourself, running around like a child playing at being an adult. Why do you insist on proving something no one asked you to?"

Joy's hands clenched at her sides. "I... I can manage," she said softly.

"You can't!" Aunt Marge snapped. "You're too young. Why do you refuse help? Let someone else raise her! Someone responsible, someone mature!"

Ella watched silently, wide-eyed, her small hands clutched in front of her. Joy felt a wave of guilt wash over her. The child deserved stability, not this endless tension.

Joy wanted to scream. She wanted to run. And for the first time in days, she made a decision: she would leave. Just for a little while. Just to breathe. Just to remember herself before she became everything for everyone else.

---

She packed a small bag..some bread, a few coins, and a change of clothes...and left a note:

"I need to think. I'll come back soon. Don't worry, Ella. I love you."

Her feet carried her quickly down the quiet streets. The city had changed in her absence, or perhaps she had changed. Every corner felt cold, indifferent, like the world itself was testing her. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, fatigue clawed at her limbs, but still, she pressed on, desperate for freedom, for a moment of control.

---

Joy spent the first night under the pale glow of streetlights. She curled into herself on a cold stone step, hugging her knees and shivering from exhaustion. The sounds of distant traffic and barking dogs echoed in her ears. Sleep came fitfully, haunted by visions of her parents, of Ella, of the life she had temporarily abandoned.

By morning, hunger and fear had grown unbearable. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She wandered into the crowded marketplace, hoping for work, hoping for kindness, hoping for anything that might sustain her.

A vendor shook his head when she asked to help. "Too young. Go home."

Another laughed. "You think you can carry sacks of grain? You'll collapse before noon."

Even charity centers turned her away. "We can offer food," a volunteer said, "but jobs... you must be older."

Joy felt the sting of despair deepen. She realized, painfully, that freedom was an illusion. She could run, but survival demanded something more: endurance, patience, and relentless effort.

---

Two days passed in this manner. Joy's feet were raw, her hands blistered, her stomach empty. Yet each night, she thought of Ella. She remembered the small, trusting face of her sister, the tiny hands that clung to her, the laughter that once seemed so light and carefree.

I cannot leave her, Joy whispered to herself as she huddled under a bridge to sleep. I cannot. No matter what.

The realization hit her like a wave. Responsibility was not something to escape. It was a weight she had to carry, no matter how heavy, no matter how unfair.

---

When Joy returned home, the house was eerily quiet. She hesitated at the doorway, fearing what she might find. But there was Ella, asleep on the small mat, clutching the stuffed bear Joy had given her years before. Relief flooded through her.

Joy set her bag down and knelt beside her sister. "I'm back," she whispered, pressing her lips to Ella's hair.

Ella stirred, opening her eyes sleepily. "Joy... you... you left me?"

Joy swallowed hard, guilt choking her. "I... I needed to think. I... I needed to breathe. But I'm back now. I won't leave again, I promise."

Ella buried her small face in Joy's chest, sensing the weight behind the words. Joy held her, feeling both the comfort of their bond and the burden of responsibility.

---

The days after Joy's return were relentless. Relatives continued to interfere, offering advice, criticizing her choices, questioning her ability.

"You're exhausted," Aunt Marge said, voice soft but sharp. "Look at yourself. How do you expect to care for Ella if you cannot even care for yourself?"

Joy's hands clenched. "I don't have a choice," she said quietly. "Ella depends on me."

Relatives shook their heads, muttering under their breath. Even neighbors whispered as Joy passed. Too young... too weak... She won't survive.

Each whisper, each glance, each accusation pressed against her like a stone. Yet each stone only hardened her resolve. She would survive. She would endure. She would not fail Ella.

---

Joy began visiting more shops, seeking work wherever she could. The rejections continued: a laundry shop refused her because she could not carry heavy loads; a small café turned her away for lacking experience; a tailor laughed at her inability to sew properly.

Each rejection was humiliating, each dismissal a reminder of how alone she truly was. Hunger clawed at her belly, exhaustion weighed down her limbs, and still she pressed on.

By the end of the week, her hands were raw, her body thin, her spirit bruised. But beneath the misery, a spark glimmered...a determination that refused to be extinguished.

---

One evening, she returned home with a small packet of food she had earned from washing dishes at a neighbor's home. Ella ran to her, eyes wide.

"You did it, Joy! You found food!"

Joy smiled faintly, handing her sister the food. "Yes, Ella. We will eat tonight. We will survive."

Ella hugged her tightly. "I love you, Joy."

Joy held her close, feeling a mixture of love, exhaustion, and something else...a dangerous, quiet determination that had begun to stir within her. She had survived misery, hunger, rejection, and despair. And she knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

---

The night settled quietly over the small house. Joy sat beside Ella, brushing her hair gently. Her hands were calloused, her body aching, her mind heavy with the weight of responsibility.

But she had learned an important truth: no matter how far she ran, she could not escape duty. No matter how bitter the world was, she could endure.

---