Miyana's mother watched as she forced her way through the crowd. This is the final thing she needs to do to ensure that her daughter, her only child, reaches a safe location. She wasn't expecting to see her sob loudly in front of a crowd. It was the first time she had ever cried in public. It distressed her so much to see her daughter like this.
She loosened the grip on her cargo and drew her child off the vehicle, away from the frenetic throng of people. She hastily discarded everything she was carrying and embraced her for what may be the last time. “You. You are the most essential thing to me.” She pushed her hair away from her face and kissed Miyana on the temples. “You are the absolute proof and reason of my love for your father, as well as the purpose I must let you escape. I want you to seize every golden opportunity and emerge from this stronger than before. I hope you are happy and safe, and that you will be able to forgive me one day.”
She has always found it difficult with communicating and, at times, interacting with people from her volunteer work. Although she wasn't the most perceptive at interpreting people's emotions, she did her best not to show how tormented and distraught she was the entire way here, as she watched her daughter weep.
She, too, was hesitant to abandon Miyana. She was the last thing she had left of her spouse that she could cling to. His love for her was evident in this child she grew for eight months. Miya has the other half of her spouse pulsing through her veins. So why has he given up on her so easily?
She hopes that everything will return to normal as quickly as humanly possible and that this was all a dream or a hoax. She's hoping to see her husband rush over to them, proclaiming that they've won the battle by sheer luck, but luck isn't on anyone's side right now.
She shattered the quiet burden that hung over her face. She kept an eye on the train and the road that led to their city, but there was no indication of anyone coming to rescue them. This was not a fairy tale where another loved one rushed to her aid to prevent her from shipping their child away; it was actually happening. “No one is coming after all.” Those words kept replaying in her thoughts, over and over.
She began to cry in astonishment when she brought her child closer to her. She clutched her fiercely in her arms. “After all, no one is coming.” Those foreboding words got louder and louder around her. Looking down at the gravel road floor, she noticed her daughter among the clouds of a haze of her vision.
“They're not going to take you away from me.” Huffily, she murmured. “You are an embodiment of your father.” Reluctant to break the embrace. Miya, on the other hand, was completely white. She simply recollects tears streaming down her cheeks and her mother gripping her firmly. It was usually great to be held in her embrace, but she was having a difficult time breathing.
Attempting to pat her mother for some aid, but all she could do was bask in the vivid blue sky and her mother's rich, sweet aroma of strawberries. As she strained to comprehend what was going on, she felt the pressure building up around her face. Collapsing, she watched a few men loading her mother and her mother's cargo onto the train. She coughed and gasped for oxygen before falling unconscious.
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“Miyana! Please allow me to take her with me. Please! She's my child!” Her mother cried out from afar. When Miyana was carried to one of the vehicles, she was unconscious, unaware of what just transpired. The children and expectant mothers watched by as the train crew hauled her mother away, along with the other women who would be shipped back to their city to work.
Miyana was finally able to settle in a place that was more convenient for her, years after her separation from her family and childhood home. She started to support others and was able to make a living off of what she had learned in her travel.
She was urged to construct her own vegetable patch gardening after witnessing food shortages in the town where she lived. By doing so, she explained to others how to rely on their abilities. Her mother would phone now and then in the morning and evening, but she wouldn't say much, allowing Miya to do all the talking.
They used to converse all night long back home before they parted ways, but something seemed off nowadays. When asked whether anything happened on the train that day, her mother would occasionally brush her question off or become agitated. When her mother shouted at her, Miyana stopped asking such questions, so she obeyed her mother and remained silent.
Her father would call numerous times while she was laying in bed, but every time that she picked up the phone, someone was already seeking for him, requesting him for anything trivial. So he concluded that it would be better if he just texted her a simple 'Good morning,' even though it was 10 in the afternoon for her.
Her mother also stopped phoning as well once she stopped receiving anything from her father. Every time Miya attempted to call, she would be redirected to that drastic voice message. Even though she knew she wouldn't get a response, she texted her family on a daily basis. She's been informing them about her recent activities and what she had planned concerning the next time they see each other after so many years have passed.
On the twelfth day of attempting to contact her mother, something unusual occurred. She didn't let the phone go to voicemail this time because the phone kept ringing. Miya phoned and called and called, but no one answered. The ringing eventually chimed all to the end. Regardless of where Miya went, she knew it wasn’t safe. It made no difference whether she stayed in town or went into the woods.
She was discouraged from running and hiding all the time with a bunch of strangers. Having no friends or family, she lost everything and everyone she cared about. She was alone and felt betrayed by those who were meant to be her protectors. Instead, because she was the weakest and youngest member of her family, they felt it was better to abandon her.
“It makes no sense to escape a losing war!” She bellowed towards the ground as she shattered the gadget her mother had given her on their last days together. The sound frightened the other teenagers in the room. “Please accept my apologies and forgive me.” She sniffled after carefully picking up the shattered pieces of the device.
She was only looking at her trembling hands. Noticing the ring that was gleaming on her middle finger; it turned out that her mother had tossed it with Miya's stuff that day. “I'm genuinely beginning to resemble you… Mother.” This wasn't the first time Miya had mistaken her hand for her mother, just as when they were plump and full of color. She stopped gazing in mirrors because of the similarity to her mother.