2: Lost

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No one woke me up to tell me that we were headed to the Philippines.

Out of all the countries I could've gone into hiding, I would be left alone there.

"You're kidding." I had to make sure my mouth wasn't hanging open when Cali turned around. I was in complete disbelief, baffled by what she just said. It was partly my fault for not checking the destination before joining this flight, and I slept right away on the jumpseat before the plane started leaving the runway in America, but I trusted Cali more than my parents, and that, for me, was a big deal, much less a shot to the heart when I learned of the truth. "I swear, Campbell, you better be kidding."

"Trust me, I'm not." She left her spot on the cockpit and had me scoot over so we'd share the jumpseat, leaving first officer Wayne, the co-pilot, in charge of the plane. "I only pull pranks on land." She then glanced at one of the monitors and read the numbers on the screen. I did the same out of habit. Cali grabbed the mic near her seat. "It's 16:00 Zulu time, and we're now 35,000 feet above sea level."

"There must be another option available," I chimed in after she finished the rest of her announcement. "I have relatives there."

"Relatives who are probably flying their planes somewhere," she argued, and my mouth fell shut when she took out a mask from her small purse. Cali crouched so our eyes were level before she put the mask on me. "As long as you stay away from the media's eyes, you'll be alright, Captain."

This plane wouldn't descend for me. I was stuck here with no choice but to return to the country I was born in but forced to forget.

The closer we got, the louder my heart thrummed. "Let's hope so," was all I managed to say.

I wasn't elated to be left alone there, nor was I willing to face the sudden shift in my reality, one I wasn't prepared for.

I took another flight to the first words I read on one of the big screens that welcomed me in NAIA: Santa Ana, Cagayan. I hadn't been to that city before, so I didn't really have an expectation. Heck, I had no travel itinerary, either. I was no tourist. If you could call a runaway daughter one, however, then I'd consider the title.

Fixing my mask, I ventured into the unknown, as my best friend liked to call it. I wasn't one with the religious sort, but I prayed to any deity who would listen. "Please be kind," I had asked. "Make this easy for me."

I doubted I would receive an answer right away, but I left it to the gods. I had more problems to face, like my dad, whom many believed was a god himself.

The sun was minutes away from saying goodbye when I arrived at Myriad. It was my best choice as it was the nearest hotel near Anguib Beach, a random, unpopular tourist destination I also had no expectations of.

The staff were kind enough to fulfill my wishes of keeping my arrival a secret. That was after giving in to their request of promoting the place once I departed. Myriad wasn't in a prime location, so I shouldn't worry, but I could never be too careful. One time I stayed at a motel during my business trip to Japan and it caused an uproar. The media wouldn't calm down for weeks until I personally came out to clarify that I was alone.

One wrong move and my cover would be blown. I guessed I was fortunate enough to come across considerate people here. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of what happened in Japan.

I changed into lighter, casual clothes before leaving my suite to look around the vicinity. I figured I should at least do this before I could think of locking myself in the suite if my depressive episodes got in the way. But I shouldn't let that bother me. Not now.

Truth be told, I also wanted to go to Anguib. When I heard the waves faintly crashing on the shore from my balcony minutes ago, I knew I'd be tempted to hear more. The salt air and cool water was beyond inviting.

Sadly, the universe couldn't bother to give me a break.

It was too late to go back after seeing that there was no direct route to the beach from where I was. I'd tried retracing my steps to the hotel but my efforts were in vain. Contrary to popular belief that Alonzos were perfect, I was bad at directions. I would've laughed at this flaw of mine had I found the situation funny. I was seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack because I really was lost now.

There were no vehicles passing by, so there was no immediate help available. I didn't want to be stranded here, either, as the night was chilly.

"This can't be happening," I muttered to myself. The setting sun was covered by closed commercial buildings and establishments, and I did not bring my phone with me. With no flashlight, jacket, and a sense of direction, I was good as dead.

I knew my anxiety was ruling over my system, and that I should breathe again, but I couldn't. My lungs felt constricted as I took in the sickeningly unfamiliar surroundings a thread away from betraying my eyesight because of the dark. I couldn't hear the sea's waves anymore. I was numb, yet I felt everything at once. I was scared and alone.

I was all alone here. No one would save me.

"Screw it," I said to no one. "No one would save me anyway. Screw this dilemma. Screw this freedom."

But even I didn't take my words to heart. I was free. This might take a while to get used to, and I was sure I'd get lost again sooner or later, but did those things really matter? I was freer than any Alonzo now.

So I walked again. I took a sharp inhale, looked ahead, and started walking forward.

Easing Heimweh (Heim, #1) ✓Where stories live. Discover now