The Price of Misery

"This sucks." I murmured to myself. White fog formed in front of my lips from the heat of my breath as I hugged myself tighter in my much too thin jacket, desperate for more warmth as my feet hung, swinging slightly, from the bus stop bench I was sat upon. I looked around at my dark surroundings, I felt increasingly nervous as I waited for my bus, still unfamiliar to the experience. I supposed this was humbling, considering until a week prior I'd had the distinct luxury of driving myself in a decade old truck. That was until of course the engine decided to blow up in my face, birthing an array of issues on top of what I considered to be an already pretty bad life. Truthfully, I'd never admit to anyone I thought my life was bad or hard, I couldn't stand the guilt of knowing there were people that had it worse than me, people who didn't even have a house to walk back to from the bus stop. However, as thankful as I was to have a home to return to, I also felt as though I was drowning in the lifetime of problems that awaited me there. I'd endured a life of abuse, neglect and abandonment from my parents, and what felt like loss after loss as i worked endless hours just to create a life with even a hint of stability. That stability proved to be just as fragile as I'd assumed, and although I resented how privileged I knew it would sound to others, having to resort to public transportation felt like yet another loss.

I let out a sigh, creating another small white cloud. Finally, I could see headlights shining through the thin veil of fog and I felt instant relief as it came closer and I begun to be able to make out the shape of a bus. I pulled my work bag over my shoulder and dug my bus pass out of the front pocket. Eventually the bus began to slow, brakes screeching as the vehicle jerked slightly to a stop in front of me. I approached the door, offering a warm smile and "Good Evening." to the bus driver as I scanned my pass. I shuffled by as quickly as possible, making my way towards the middle of the empty bus. I waited for the bus to return to motion before a figure of a person snaked onto the bus shortly after me. The bus began to move as they took the seat directly across from me. Strange, I thought, doing my best to avoid looking at them. There wasn't anyone else at the stop with me, or anywhere near me for that matter. I kept my gaze locked on my twiddling thumbs as I felt nervousness wash over me.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" I heard from the mysterious person. I looked over then and saw a person that matched the old, womanly voice that I'd heard, she wore a head cover and was smiling at me in a oddly comforting way, wrinkles exaggerating over her soft-seeming skin.

"Yes?" I answered, trying my best to sound confident despite feeling a bit weary.

"Can I ask you about the scars on your ankles?" As she said this she reached out to point with a shaky, veiny hand at the fading scars of cuts that weren't quite covered by my jeans. I was taken aback by the question, if she hadn't seemed to me like a sweet, elderly lady I imagine I might have had a bitter response or barked back that it was none of her business. However, in addition to her appearance, I could feel my nerves begin to settle and something inside of me was telling me I could trust her as a friend.

Still, I hesitated, insecure about the subject matter. "I-uh.....they're self-harm scars." I could hear the shame in my own voice "I haven't exactly had the easiest life and I guess I blame myself sometimes."

I did my best to read the expression on the woman's face, she looked sympathetic but also shared a smile that gave me a sort of sense that she truly understood what I'd been through, maybe even more than what I shared with her.

"There's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, dear." She started, sincerity heavy in her tone. "Those are battle scars. You're a soldier. Do not ever stop fighting. You're closer to victory than you'll ever know." Her words felt real, like she was offering a presentiment rather than encouragement. I truly felt as if her words touched my soul, I could feel an instant sense of warmth as they reverberated throughout my mind.

"Thank you, I seriously can't express how much I needed to hear that right now." I did my best to convey how moved I felt. The bus stopped then and the woman rose, squeezed my shoulder and quickly walked off the bus. I looked out the window and it was then I realized it was my stop as well. I gathered my things quickly before I noticed a small black notebook lying in the seat once occupied by the woman. Instinctively, I picked it up and increased my pace to return it to the woman. As I got closer to the door, open to the cold dark night I realized I could see no one.

I turned around to the bus driver. "Did you see which way the older woman that just got off went? She left her notebook." I inquired. The driver's face instantly turned into confusion with a touch of annoyance. "Are you on drugs?" She spat, albeit with genuine concern. "You've been the only one on the bus since i picked you up." I might've laughed at her accusation in a different circumstance, instead I felt the blood leave my face and fear sweep over me.

"Sorry, thank you." I managed with heavy embarrassment, stumbling off the stairs. As the bus drove away, I stood there in the quiet night, with the black notebook in my hand. My hand were shaking, but I had no other ideas in that moment other than to open it. So I did.

Sat inside the notebook in a rectangular hole, cut in the pages, was a stack of money. I felt even more fear and confusion. Hands shaking, I removed the money from the notebook and began counting. $20,000. The exact amount of money I needed to fix my car and catch up on debts and rent. Although I still had a slight sense of uneasiness, I realized in that moment that I'd just experienced a miracle. Something I thought was so beyond my reality and worth was now in my hands. A real, tangible miracle. A win. I cried. I cried and as I did I felt every battle and every struggle I'd been though disintegrated. I still didn't fully understand what happened, or how it could happen, or why it would happen to me. All I knew that was for the first time ever, I would be ok.