The apartment was small.
But it was mine.
One bedroom.
One bathroom.
A tiny kitchen connected to a modest living space.
The furniture was already included—nothing fancy, but clean and functional.
A couch, a small table, a bed, a fridge.
Rent?
Two hundred dollars per month.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
But I didn't question it.
I stood in the middle of the room for a long moment, just listening to the silence.
No shouting.
No footsteps outside the door.
No fear of someone suddenly unlocking it.
Just quiet.
I sat down on the couch slowly.
It was soft.
Real soft.
The refrigerator hummed gently in the corner, the sound steady and comforting. When I opened it, it was still empty—but that was fine.
I would fill it soon.
The kitchen cabinet held the instant food I had bought before moving in.
Simple meals.
Enough to survive.
My closet was nearly empty—just two trousers, a hoodie, and a t-shirt hanging neatly inside.
Only the necessities.
No need for more.
Not yet.
For a few minutes, I just stayed there, letting the reality sink in.
I had a door that locked.
A bed.
A future that wasn't built on hiding in storage rooms or dumpsters.
Slowly, a smile spread across my face.
Then I stood up and walked into the bathroom.
The mirror showed me clearly.
Still dark hair.
Still the eyes I hated.
Not anymore.
I opened the hair dye and began applying it carefully.
The bleach stung the moment it touched my scalp, a sharp burning sensation spreading through my head.
I winced slightly.
But I didn't stop.
There was no turning back now.
While the bleach sat in my hair, I sat on the bathroom floor with my phone and started searching for jobs.
I had enough money to survive for a while, but I didn't want to feel anxious when it started running low.
I needed stability.
Something normal.
Something legal.
After the timer was done, I washed the dye out in the shower, watching the water turn lighter and lighter until it ran clear.
When I stepped back to the mirror, I couldn't help it.
I grinned.
Wet blonde hair now framed my face.
Different.
Unrecognizable.
On the sink lay the contact lenses.
I didn't need them inside.
So I left them there for now.
I leaned closer to the mirror and studied myself.
Blonde hair.
Clean face.
No signs of the past.
For the first time, I didn't see him looking back at me.
I saw someone new.
I walked to the bed and finally sat down, exhaustion settling into my bones.
The mattress was soft, warm, and real.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Peace.
Not temporary.
Not borrowed.
Mine.
Then my phone vibrated.
A notification lit up the screen.
Job interview – Wednesday, 9:00 AM
My heart skipped once.
Then I smiled.
"Here we go,"
I murmured, sitting up.
I opened my calendar and typed it in carefully, making sure I wouldn't forget.
Wednesday.
9 AM.
A real step forward.
I placed my phone on the bedside table and lay back again, staring at the ceiling with a quiet grin.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something chasing me.
It felt like something I was walking toward.