It was getting dark, but the streets of New York were lighting up. The glow didn't just come from apartment windows, traffic lights, or cars. This city lives a double life, unleashing its secrets as soon as darkness falls. Secrets weren't the only things coming out that evening, as this was the night Charlotte became homeless by her own choice.
Yes, that's me. I'm Charlotte, an 18-year-old girl who used to live with her mother and younger brother in a poor district of New York. My life has been unremarkable; nothing interesting ever seemed to happen. A lack of money and an emotionally unavailable, neglectful mother made me seek distractions from real life. I invested myself fully in history, which naturally became my intended college major as my senior year approached. Every day after school, I escaped into history books that taught me only about the past. Relationships, marriage, or achieving great things in life—not for me. All I want right now is to escape my current life, whether by reading or by leaving my actual home.
The last drop in my patience was when mom came home drunk after being absent for several days. During that time, I was left alone with my younger brother, Chester, a high school freshman. We could feed ourselves only if Ashley, our mother, left some money behind. When she finally returned, I said,
"I'm out of this place. I don't see a reason to stay in this rat hole anymore."
Neither Chester nor Ashley responded; Chester was glued to his phone, and Ashley was too drunk to care. My newfound confidence might have come from one of the historical personas I was reading about. I had no idea what I would do after leaving, but I knew one thing: I had no reason to stay.
At the blooming age of eighteen, I left the house with only myself and a small backpack of necessities. As I walked away, I blocked both Chester and mom on my phone and social media, as blocking Chester was necessary too, or mom would contact me through his phone. I slammed the door behind me. In that moment, it felt like one chapter of my life had closed, just like in a history book, and a new one was about to begin.
"I can't believe I did it..." I whispered, confidence mixed with fear. "Where do I go now, Miss Napoleon? The plan was to leave, but what's next?".
It really felt like burning an entire city, which Napoleon did to Moscow. In my life, I burned my old self, my family relations, and the house where I grew up.
As darkness settled over New York, I had only one idea: find a hostel or motel and beg for a free stay. Unfortunately, I'm too introverted to ask a friend if I can crash at their place. I walked to the subway and bought a one-way ticket to the city center. The last place I wanted to be was anywhere near my old house. If I were going to leave, I'd go as far away as I could. I wished I had more pocket money to afford a cheap rental, but oh well...
The subway ride felt endless; the whole time, I questioned my decision. I knew staying wouldn't help me, but leaving was terrifying.
"I should hope for a good outcome, find a part-time job, and prepare for school exams," I mumbled naively.
After walking a few blocks from the subway, I stumbled across the famous red-light district. I'd heard about this area but never expected it to be so close to New York's main business street. This city truly is a place of contrasts. I decided to take a walk through that area, just out of curiosity.
Prostitution was a part of history, too, at the end of the day. The red light district is more neon pink and purple-ish than red. Who came up with the name "Red" light? Only if red represents lust and love in psychology, but I know almost nothing about it. There was no mention of why it is called the red light district in any of the history book chapters, either.
But this red light was the switch to turn my life into a new chapter.
This walk of curiosity cost me an entire 8-month chapter, featuring not two kings, but two men. So 2 plus 8 is what? In my life chapter, it doesn't equal 10...and clearly it is not a story to remember in human history.