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#runningawayfromproblems
‘Where to, miss?’ the girl heard beside her, stepping into the frisk, empty bus a driver sat by the wheel, he looked… uncannily surreal…? ‘just drive.’ a drowsy tone, from the girl and a reply of a hum, from the driver or the aircon? not that she took care. Sat soundly at the back, staring out the window, the girl saw her– Not her reflection–no. But it all seemed… Familiar? She couldn't find the words. ‘your first stop!’ The bus revved to a halt. outside–a girl in a stall. eating alone, poor her. Does she not have a cafeteria seat? not that she seemed to care. she looked fine and stared, eating her lunch in silence. ‘Right, next stop!’ said the good ‘ol driver. Before she could name the feeling, the bus lurched forward— doors hissing shut, the world dragged backward. The jolt crawled up her spine. that sent shivers down the gut. The ride fell quiet. Not peaceful–just held. She leaned forward. The bus slowed, then stopped. Outside again—her. Only this time, she wasn’t alone. A woman stood beside her, familiar in the way old wounds are. A mother, maybe? Their voices clashed. “You’re a mistake—you were never planned.” The words crashed. The girl outside stayed still. Processing. “Alright,” she said— a neutrality that shook. The girl sat in shock Yet again, the bus moves on. The doors hissing shut. Why was she seeing these? why are these scenes …Familiar? No–that’s nonsense. Why feel anything? ‘Strange, awful lot of traffic today…’ The driver muttered. The girl looked confused, The road was clear as day… Does he mean anything that astrays? ‘Finally, here we are.’ ‘A…school admission…?’ asked the girl. Silence was all that met. Only for a few moments; ‘Scared to fail? It’s a prestigious one– Viewed highly and beloved.’ Asked the driver in this…tone… Looking forward the girl, In the rearview mirror, She saw a pair of eyes Again–that familiar figure. …Something felt amiss. The stillness of this ride, Uncomfortability resides. ‘You know, miss…’ The driver started. That **** tone. The girl couldn’t name it. It irked in her head. Without a thought, ‘Who are you?’ Not a question A demand. Silence followed. ‘There’s no traffic.’ The girl started once more. ‘There’s no elsewhere. no more ******** The girl went ahead, standing up from her seat. ‘Who.are.you. And why do you take me places– These places that are dead–’ The bus slowed, Arriving at the final stop. At last, she met his eyes Her eyes, Her very own eyes… The driver snapped. “You want someone to blame?” She barked. “Fine. Blame the version of you– The one that chose disbelief because it was easier than trying and being wrong.” The girl fell silent, Her eyes were empty as she waited. ‘Well?’ asked the driver. ‘There you are again–’ “Stop pretending you were helpless,” the driver spat. “You memorized their words, sharpened them, and used them on yourself better than they ever could.” ‘...’ “You don’t hate yourself,” he said. “You’re just addicted to the excuse.’
0
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 1:42 AM UTC
Lucienne
Where To?
‘Where to, miss?’ the girl heard beside her, stepping into the frisk, empty bus a driver sat by the wheel, he looked… uncannily surreal…? ‘just drive.’ a drowsy tone, from the girl and a reply of a hum, from the driver or the aircon? not that she took care. Sat soundly at the back, staring out the window, the girl saw her– Not her reflection–no. But it all seemed… Familiar? She couldn't find the words. ‘your first stop!’ The bus revved to a halt. outside–a girl in a stall. eating alone, poor her. Does she not have a cafeteria seat? not that she seemed to care. she looked fine and stared, eating her lunch in silence. ‘Right, next stop!’ said the good ‘ol driver. Before she could name the feeling, the bus lurched forward— doors hissing shut, the world dragged backward. The jolt crawled up her spine. that sent shivers down the gut. The ride fell quiet. Not peaceful–just held. She leaned forward. The bus slowed, then stopped. Outside again—her. Only this time, she wasn’t alone. A woman stood beside her, familiar in the way old wounds are. A mother, maybe? Their voices clashed. “You’re a mistake—you were never planned.” The words crashed. The girl outside stayed still. Processing. “Alright,” she said— a neutrality that shook. The girl sat in shock Yet again, the bus moves on. The doors hissing shut. Why was she seeing these? why are these scenes …Familiar? No–that’s nonsense. Why feel anything? ‘Strange, awful lot of traffic today…’ The driver muttered. The girl looked confused, The road was clear as day… Does he mean anything that astrays? ‘Finally, here we are.’ ‘A…school admission…?’ asked the girl. Silence was all that met. Only for a few moments; ‘Scared to fail? It’s a prestigious one– Viewed highly and beloved.’ Asked the driver in this…tone… Looking forward the girl, In the rearview mirror, She saw a pair of eyes Again–that familiar figure. …Something felt amiss. The stillness of this ride, Uncomfortability resides. ‘You know, miss…’ The driver started. That **** tone. The girl couldn’t name it. It irked in her head. Without a thought, ‘Who are you?’ Not a question A demand. Silence followed. ‘There’s no traffic.’ The girl started once more. ‘There’s no elsewhere. no more ******** The girl went ahead, standing up from her seat. ‘Who.are.you. And why do you take me places– These places that are dead–’ The bus slowed, Arriving at the final stop. At last, she met his eyes Her eyes, Her very own eyes… The driver snapped. “You want someone to blame?” She barked. “Fine. Blame the version of you– The one that chose disbelief because it was easier than trying and being wrong.” The girl fell silent, Her eyes were empty as she waited. ‘Well?’ asked the driver. ‘There you are again–’ “Stop pretending you were helpless,” the driver spat. “You memorized their words, sharpened them, and used them on yourself better than they ever could.” ‘...’ “You don’t hate yourself,” he said. “You’re just addicted to the excuse.’
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