katy harvard . d2 . fin
Aug 24, 2021 8:11:36 GMT -5
Post by kap on Aug 24, 2021 8:11:36 GMT -5
katy harvard
district two
trans woman
she/her
eighteen
bisexual
cw/tw: alcoholism, child abuse
"You're leaving me behind but not your raggedy old rabbit?" she asks me.
"You told me you didn't want to come. You're still welcome to."
"I can't just leave."
"Well, I'm going to. I have to. I'm sorry." I turn away from my sister and finish packing my bag. I'm not taking much with me: really just the essentials. Well, the essentials and my raggedy old stuffed toy of a rabbit named Roxy. She's an essential to me, but my sister didn't seem to think it was important.
I care a lot about my sister, Millie, so I feel really bad leaving her behind, but she refuses to come. I gave her the option. It's really not my responsibility to stay just because she's passing up the opportunity to tag along and get out of the hellish situation that's happening in our home.
My father's abusive, and my mother's an alcoholic. My mother spends most of our family funds on booze, and we don't have much left to live on. I know I need to get out of here, so that's exactly what I'm doing. I eventually leave, sneaking out in the middle of the night. I don't tell Millie where I'm going, partially because I don't want her to tell our parents, and partially because I'm not even entirely sure myself.
I make my way down the streets in the dark, wandering aimlessly after a while, since I don't know where I am anymore. It takes quite a while before I even come across any people. I'm just lucky it's not a Peacekeeper. Peacekeepers terrify me, and they're really the last people I would want to encounter right now. They'd just bring me back home.
The person I encounter doesn't think much of me, and simply passes me by. That's a relief to me. Either this person doesn't care about a twelve-year-old girl wandering the streets of Two, or they don't want to get involved in anything. That, or they could be up to some sketchy shit. That would explain them seemingly ignoring me.
Eventually, I come across a place that just seems— right: the Harvard Home. I do end up moving in there shortly after discovering the place. They welcome me with open arms, and I live there even now, six years later. There is a time where my parents discover where I am, but they never try to get me back. I wonder if they just didn't want me as a financial burden anymore. Maybe they're relieved that I'm gone.
I often think about Millie, and wonder how she's doing. I try not to focus on those thoughts too much, though. I think that's why I bury myself in my art as much as I do. I spend a lot of time drawing and painting. I even sell my paintings to people around the district to make a little bit of extra cash.
It's nice to have some money, although I rarely find myself actually spending much of it on myself. I try to help others as much as I can, but that sometimes, leaves me not having enough for myself. It's my own fault, of course. I'm too set on helping others that I often forget that I need to help myself sometimes. I suppose that there are some ways I could help myself, but I'm always afraid that doing so would make it so that other people can't get what they want, too.
The one time I helped myself was when I ended up here in the Harvard Home, and it changed my life for the better. I just need to actually have good enough reasons to help myself, like that time I left my family for my own safety. Otherwise, it just doesn't feel right.
Why does it feel so wrong to do things that help me?
Maybe it's the guilt my father instilled in my head whenever I did something that benefited myself. That would explain it.
