I can see people bustling inside as I approach the house. I know that mommy is making bakes, and that the whole house smells delicious. Life, just up that walk, something that isn’t there in a cold stark dorm, abandoned by it’s residents for places like this. With lights on a tree, clearly visible through windows that glow invitingly.
Maybe it was that thought that had me back here, wrapped in nostalgia. Everyone else had a family, or a friend with one. I was a fringe dweller even among my closest, not close enough to be family. So why not go home, to my home and family.
I take a step and as I do I hear the clash of angry voices, then the wailing. My Mother, my aunt. I see my father’s slumped shoulders pass in front of the window. My sister bolts out and slams the door. Her eye is black. It all comes back. The contempt, the venom, the discomfort and the seething hate. The pall over everyone, the fear. This isn’t home.
I turn tail, back to the train station, and buy a ticked anywhere the next train is heading. Maybe there will feel like home.