No, this has nothing to do with the infamous 50. This is just the start of another short story. Let me know what you think in the comments!
Things were not going as planned. Based on the timeline, Rebecca should have been a happily married mother of two with a stellar career that was on a rising trajectory. Instead, she was single, working a dead-end job where no one noticed her, much less remembered her name or recognized her contributions to the company.
It seemed as though her lot in life was to remain faceless, invisible to the world. Somehow, even though people only seemed to see her in shades of gray, deep down, Becca knew that she was as vibrant as a rainbow. Her personality was as multifaceted as the most intricate prism, yet inexplicably, so many aspects remained repressed within her.
As much as she longed for love and companionship, Becca didn't quite know how to reach out to others. How many times had she tried, only to be let down yet again by someone who just wanted to manipulate her? She was tired of being used, treated like a machine that was designed to produce desired results, serving without question and merely existing with no demands.
No feelings. No dreams. No desires.
"This is the end of the line, miss. You'll need to get out here, or change your direction." Startled by the booming timbre of the subway driver's voice, Becca instinctively curled up in a ball. She cringed when she noticed the kind man's reaction.
"I didn't mean to startle you, miss. Believe me, I won't hurt you." The driver took two steps back and held up his hands to prove that he was harmless. Quickly, she shook her head, hating the heated blush of embarrassment that warmed the back of her neck and pale cheeks.
"No sir, it was my mistake. I wasn't paying attention. Thank you." Gathering her backpack and art supplies, she nearly tripped as she rushed out of her seat and beyond the closing doors. She couldn't muster the courage to glance back at the driver, though she could feel his pity for her radiating from his direction.
The scars. If they had only been internal, she could have coped more easily, reintegrated herself into society without the burden of her existence being broadcast on her delicate skin. But when had life ever given her a break?
Later that night, the words of the subway driver replayed in her mind. "This is the end of the line, miss. You'll need to get out here, or change your direction."
She couldn't go on living like this. As hard as she'd fought for it in the past, there was no way that she was going to give up on life itself. Only one option remained – changing the direction her life was going.
Thanks for reading! I'm looking forward to seeing where this story leads me. Follow me, Atina Atwood on Facebook and @realatinaatwood on Twitter, for more fun, random posts, and occasionally something amazing.
Author, dreamer, mother, wife, sister, daughter, Believer, romantic, instructor, researcher, performer, friend, reader, underutilized philanthrope (my own fault - I'm working on it), discoverer, educator, Foodie, holistic, sentimental, human.