Chapter 5

The smell of the harbor was suffocating. A mixture of spilled diesel fuel, rusty metal, fishy odor, and the sweat of hundreds of people crowding together made my stomach churn. I stood among the crowd, freezing on the dock while people passed by, pushing suitcases, or shouting, looking for their family members. In front of me, the hull of the ferry towered high, its steel walls looking cold and indifferent to anyone trying to get on board.

This wasn't just a ship. This was a clear boundary line. Behind me was the world that had thrown me away, and in front of me was a terrifying uncertainty.

My fingers shook violently in my jacket pocket, touching the envelope Yael had given me. The texture of the paper felt rough, a reminder of the heavy burden I had left on my brother’s shoulders.

I wasn't just carrying money; I was carrying the trust of someone who still saw me as a human being, not as a family asset or a "perfect child." Every time my fingers brushed against the envelope, I felt a sharp sting of guilt. This money was supposed to be for his future, and now, it was in my hands because I failed to be a reliable brother. I had to protect it. I had to turn these pieces of paper into something worthy of Yael.

I scanned the crowd, looking for Dad's silhouette. The fear was still there, the fear that his deep voice would suddenly call my name, grab my collar, and force me back to that suffocating house. The image of his face, bright red as he called me "garbage," kept replaying like a broken tape. I used to view his words as absolute law. If Dad said I failed, then I was a failure. If Dad said I was disgusting, then I was a disease. But today, on this noisy dock, that voice began to fade. I was no longer standing under his pointing finger. I was standing on my own two feet, even if my legs felt weak.

On the other hand, Kent's face appeared uninvited. I tried to shake it off, but his memory was like a leech draining my energy. I could still feel the tightness in my chest from seeing him getting intimate with that girl in front of his house. Disappointed was too mild a word. It was a sense of betrayal that made my throat ache. All this time, I had placed all my hopes on Kent, thinking that if I lost my family, I at least had him. As it turned out, I lost everything all at once. My departure for Meridian was an escape, but also an admission of my own stupidity for believing sweet promises too easily.

"Ticket," the attendant's voice at the ship's entrance broke my daydream. I handed over my ticket with a hand wet with sweat. The attendant didn't look at me, only tearing the paper with a rough, automatic motion. I stepped onto the deck. The sound of my shoes hitting the metal rang out loudly, as if telling the world that the old Jose Watson was leaving the stage.

When I reached the deck, I didn't look for a seat inside. I chose to stand at the edge, holding onto the cold iron railing. The ship began to vibrate. The roar of the diesel engine was deafening, swallowing the noise of the dock below. I watched the land begin to recede. The luxury houses, the streets where I grew up, the school, and those bitter memories slowly shrank, turning into faint dots on the horizon.

There were no goodbyes. No one waved at me. I was truly leaving without a trace. Fear began to strike, this time more real. I didn't have a definitive plan in Meridian. I didn't know anyone, didn't have a place to live, and Yael's savings were very limited. If I ran out of money, I would become homeless. Was I ready? Was I strong enough?

Suddenly, I remembered Yael's face when he handed over the money. He didn't hesitate. He didn't ask whether I would succeed or not. He just gave it because he believed in me. That trust was heavier than the suitcase I was carrying. If I gave up now, if I let myself break down in that foreign city, then Yael had thrown his hopes away on the wrong person.

I closed my eyes, letting the sea breeze hit my face. I had been wearing a mask for too long. At school, at home, in front of Dad, I always had to smile, had to achieve, had to be what everyone else wanted. It was a slow form of death, a torture wrapped in fake praise. Now, I no longer needed to pretend. No one knew me here. No one demanded that I be a champion. I could be anyone, or be nobody at all. And strangely, that uncertainty felt liberating.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the phone with the cracked screen. I stared at it for a moment. If I turned it on, there might be notifications or incoming calls from Dad or his people. Without a second thought, I took out the SIM card from inside, then threw it into the sea. That tiny object vanished, swallowed by the waves, sinking to the bottom of the ocean along with the remnants of my old life.

I was no longer Jose Watson. That name belonged to a family that didn't want me. In Meridian, I would choose a new name, or maybe I would use my own name without the burden of that last name. I would start from the absolute bottom. I would take any job, sleep anywhere, as long as I never had to bow my head again in front of an intimidating dining table.

The pain was still there. The wound on my cheek from Dad's slap still throbbed, and my heart still ached thinking about Kent. But in the middle of that pain, there was something new. There was a courage growing behind the fear. I realized that I didn't need those acrylic trophies to prove my worth. I didn't need their approval to live.

The ship moved faster and faster. The land was no longer visible, only an endless expanse of water. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sea air. For the first time, my breath felt free. There were no more demands. No more acting.

I turned away from the iron railing, stepping inside the ferry full of strangers. I didn't know what awaited me ahead, but I knew one thing: I would get through it. I would fight. I would survive. Not for Dad, not for Kent, but for myself and for Yael, who had sacrificed everything for me.

The old Jose was left behind on the dock, shattered along with the suffocating expectations. The new Jose was walking into the ship, with hands that, though shaking, were ready to write his own story. This was the first chapter, and I wouldn't let anyone tear out its pages. I was ready. I was finally ready.