Sabrina walked through the muddy street, her eyes cast down at the worn-out sandals that couldn't protect her feet from the mud and the dirts around. The sky was grey and it mirrored the bleakness of her surroundings. She felt as though even the heavens had conspired against her. In her world, hope was a luxury and even if others could afford it, she was an exception.
She turned down to the corner of the street and that familiar sight of the old apartment greeted her like an enemy. The cracked walls, the opened roof and the torn nets seemed to whisper to her, "you'll never escape." It was a voice only she could hear. She shrugged, trying so hard to ignore the surroundings. It was a battle, her heart was heavy and the burden of her despair weighed her down.
She was born in this neighborhood and had grown to the usual sounds of shoutings. Her mother had long given up on hope and had accepted her fate but Sabrina refused to allow her spirit weaken. Whenever she dreamed of something more, her mother would always try to discourage. "Pigs don't fly, Sabrina," she would always say.
Sabrina felt her mother was speaking curses to her and when she tried thinking big, the reminder from her mother's words always found it's way to her head. "Sabrina, this world is not designed for people like us." She felt trapped, like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a cage.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she approached their apartment and heard sounds of raised voices. She sighed, knowing that her mother was arguing with her latest boyfriend, a man who had only brought more trouble and pain to their lives. "I wonder what mother was thinking." She muttered to herself as she opened the door to see for herself, the chaos that laid ahead.
As always, the apartment was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up at a corner and the air was stinking, smelling of stale cigarettes and liquors. She looked at her mother, sitting on the old couch, her hands crossed and her face red and puffy from crying. The boyfriend, a man named Jake stood towering over her, his voice raised in a threatening tone.
She slipped past them, avoiding attention to herself. She had learned long ago to navigate situations like these with a quiet resilience. It didn't mean she was immune to the pain they caused. She felt like a ghost, unnoticed and invisible as she made her way to her small bedroom at the back of the apartment.
This room was her haven, the only place she could escape to when chaos arose around her. As she entered her room, she closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath and allowing silence to wash over her. She had decorated her room with scraps of papers and cutouts from magazines, they were images of beautiful things and places that seemed to whisper to her, "you are more than this. You can be who you set your mind to be."
She laid on her bed, fixing her eyes on the ceiling as she let her thoughts wonder. Her dream was that of a life beyond her neighborhood, beyond the limitations that seemed to smother her. She imagined herself as a writer, or an artist, a singer, a scientist - anything but the caged and downhearted person she felt herself to be.
But for now, she was stuck in this place, surrounded by the tears and hopelessness of her mother and the wicked laughter of those who took pleasure in their pains and struggles. She closed her eyes, the tears she was struggling to hold back found its way down her cheeks. She whispered a word that had become her personal statement, "When Pigs Fly."
To be continued.
Images generated using BING.
