The light wasn’t green

“Is this all?”

Her voice is grating on my ear this early in the morning. The stench of alcohol forcefully pushed itself into my nostrils that I had to scrunch up my face and look away as she held up a stash of money.

“Are you fucking deaf, you ungrateful kid?!” she roars this time, swinging her arm that held the stash of money and hit me in the face.

A faint chuckle came from behind her, which belonged to her son. Both of them had brunette hair, both had the same predatory glint in their eyes—as if I was a rabbit they’ve decided to serve on a silver platter for today.

“Mom, you know that’s all she most likely has from her stupid job. Besides, I’m sure you can make do with that. Double it when you play with your friends, yeah?” he snickers, patting her on the shoulder.

As if her rage had been quelled, she heaves a sigh and looks at him affectionately, “You’re right, dear. I’ll get going now.” And then she throws me a glare before smacking me on the head with her hand, “You better work overtime today. This really isn’t enough. You’re lucky your brother came to your rescue.”

My brother? Hah.

When she was out of my room, it was my brother’s turn to get his share for the day. This was evident with how he was stretching out an open palm with a smirk. “I saved your ass. Now hand it over.”

I got up from my bed and opened my drawer, which creaked from how old it was already, and fished out a long wallet the color of wood, and handed it over to him without a word. He takes it, opens it, and counts the bills inside. With a satisfied smile, he nods and pats me on the head, “Good job. See? If you just cooperate, I won’t add more to your injuries.” Those disgusting brown pupils shifted to my chest before looking back up at my face, “Or visit you tonight.”

I bit my tongue, so as not to throw a remark of my own–as if I haven’t been dreading to just scream at them and hurt them all for everything they’ve done. But I can’t. Although I’m already an adult, way past the age of legality, I can’t leave.

My late father has a keepsake that they refuse to hand over to me.

“We’ll hand it over to you once we’re sick of you. For now, you have to compensate for your father’s death. He promised us he’d spoil us with his riches, now it’s your turn, isn’t it?” was what my stepmother said on the day of my father’s funeral. Why my father was stupid enough to take a woman in like her and raise a son like him is still a mystery to me. A horrible mystery.

They were never married. She was just somebody on the streets who stumbled upon my drunk father, took advantage of the situation, and forced her way into our lives. I don’t have any idea what my father’s keepsake was, as I already have this weird-looking necklace he’d asked me to keep that she doesn’t know about. What is the keepsake, exactly?

“See you later then, Tia. I’m expecting an additional amount later if you don’t want me bursting through your doors in the middle of the night,” the disgusting man of a brother coos as he caresses my hair, his fingers running through it down to the tip that touches my shoulders. Then he winks before leaving.

The second the door closed, my knees finally gave in and the tears I never realized I’d been holding in began to blur my vision. I sat there, on my bed that could have seen better days, as I buried my face in my palms.

God, if You exist, haven’t I suffered enough?

Again, uttering a prayer that seems to fall on deaf ears.

* * *

“Hmm? You want to work overtime today?” The manager at the 24/7 Bookstore I worked at tilted his head to the side. He was well in his middle 40s already. Wrinkly face, slicked back gray hair and a kind smile. He was also shorter than me and had a beer belly, but he looked all the more approachable like that. Mister Puoli is probably one of the few elders I find comfortable to be around.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yes, if that’s not too much to ask,” I replied with an apologetic smile as I continued to unpack the newly arrived books from their boxes, stacking them neatly right next to me.

He laughed heartily, a hand on his belly, as he was still behind the counter, “Of course it isn’t too much to ask, child. As you know, there’s only you and Sao working for me. But that boy’s been sick and I was actually about to ask if you can cover his shift until he’s better.”

“Ah, how timely, then!”

“A very pleasant coincidence, really. So, I’ll entrust the bookstore with you tonight, okay?”

I couldn’t hold back the smile on my face, I was relieved. Grateful. “Yes, no problem!”

He patted me on the shoulder as he walked off the counter and to his office. He takes off the apron that we all wear at the bookstore and hooks it on the wall right next to the door to his office. Then he comes out a little later with his bag, ready to end his day at work.

“Take care, Tia. Please, please give me a call if something happens,” he pats my shoulder again as I was still crouching, almost done with the newly arrived books. Then he whispers playfully, “But don’t call me if you see a ghost. I won’t be able to sleep, either.”

The laughter that bubbled from my chest echoed in the empty bookstore and so did his. I waved him goodbye as he left and went back to the books, making sure to put them in the right shelves this time.

The clock ticked by and it was already 4 in the morning. There had been some customers at midnight but that was it. I still don’t know why Mister Pouli decided to open a 24/7 bookstore, when it doesn’t offer the same things a convenience store would. Either way, it’s none of my concern.

Just as I was packing up to leave, I caught a glance of a book that was left on one of the tables. I tilted my head in wonder, as I don’t remember any of the customers that came earlier sitting down and reading. More or less, they were scouring the bookstore for some manga, manhwas and novels.

“Hm, maybe I just didn’t notice it earlier,” I mumbled to myself, picking it up and examining it as I walked to one of the shelves.

But the book looked a tad weird. It was hardbound, the color was a light shade of pink with embroidered swirls of leaves and roses on its cover. Out of curiosity, I decided to flip it open.

The dedication on the front page made me gasp.

To the one who’s seeking refuge in another world.

Seeking refuge?

Judging from how it’s written, it gave off the same vibe as those manhwas and novels I’ve read before. What was the term… ah, right. Isekai. Most of the heroines got run over by a truck and woke up in another world. They were reincarnated. Reborn. But weirdly enough, way back in the past rather than the future. Some heroines just die in their sleep. Some slipped and hit their head.

I flipped to the next page.

This is Grandia, a Country known for its beautiful and kind King and Queen, and of course, their beloved Princess. A Country that fell into tragedy in the hands of their closest friend, who wanted nothing more than to covet the Princess.

War broke out between countries, civilians were slaughtered, children were kidnapped and sold off. The rivaling country’s ruler refused to let go of his desire to marry the Princess, who now had no other choice but surrender to him to save her Country. To save her parents. To save her lover.

“What a scumbag,” I couldn’t help but click my tongue. My annoyance towards the obvious antagonist aside, I wanted to continue reading. So I decided to register it in the logbook before closing the bookstore, the novel cradled in my arms.

The wind at dawn was biting cold, but the thick turtle-neck sweater I had on protected me from it. It was comfortable, the warmth I could only get from clothes. Fabrics. Inanimate objects. Then again, they’re better than actual people who could potentially deceive me over it.

Beep.

I stopped on my tracks, realizing I was about to cross the road. I looked up and the light was still red. While I waited for it to turn green, I glanced at the book again.

“To the one who seeks refuge in another world,” I repeated, as if chanting it like I would to a spell. It…felt comforting somehow. Books are gateways to another world.

Somehow, I couldn’t help but think that despite the life those heroines led in their previous world, they were lucky to have been reincarnated in a different world. A world where they were never hurt again–free of pain, of guilt, of anything that bound them to their misery.

I heaved a deep breath, the envy in my chest accumulating at an unhealthy degree.

If I walked in front of a moving truck right now… would I…?

I shook my head at the crazy idea, my hand quickly finding the necklace my father gave me that hung around my neck. I clenched it tightly. I don’t know what my father’s keepsake is, as I was sure it was this one, but perhaps he had a surprise for me. I shouldn’t give up like this.

I glanced up at the traffic light again and finally, it was green.

I took a few steps forward, crossing the road.

Perhaps I can at least ask for a clue, right? After all, I’ve been providing for them for the past three years. Surely, they could at least give me an idea as to what it is.

My determination and newfound reason for living had been lit up–only for a blinding light to flash from my side, followed by a deafening honk from the large truck that was quickly making its way towards me.

I don’t know what else happened.

How it happened.

All I could remember was the traffic light as I tried to run back.

The light wasn’t green.