The nineteen-year-old girl, commonly known as Jay Monroe, dashed through the rain. It was a rather heavy downpour and she had given her umbrella to a little kid, stuck without one.
Jay pulled her dark blue jacket over her head as she continued to sprint, in hopes of looking for a dry spot in the rain. She inwardly sighed in relief as she found a small shop with a canopy. Once she took a seat in a dry spot, Jay put her jacket back on properly and pulled her legs to her chest.
“’Ello,” a gruff voice greeted her.
Jay snapped her head to the voice. It was just an old man with a shopping cart of his stuff. Definitely homeless. Jay let out a “He-“ before clearing her throat, realizing she wasn’t masking her French accent. “’Ello,” she greeted, back to being British.
“What are ya doing in the rain?” he asked.
“Waiting for it to stop,” Jay replied.
The old man let out a faint chuckle and asked, “Shouldn’t ya be at home?”
“Nah. Left home a year ago,” Jay admitted.
“Really? What’s the story behind that?” the old man questioned.
Jay was surprised by the question. It was a simple question really. Why was she out there? No one had actually asked her it before. They just assumed she was old enough to be on her own. And she was. “Hm…” Jay said, leaning back on the front wall of the shop. “Where to start?” She pulled her hand through her neon blue bangs, a habit that she did whenever she was thinking. After a few seconds of silence, Jay began with telling her story.
“Well, I ran away from home, simple as that. My mum and dad always loved my sisters more than me. They wanted me to be like them. But I said, ‘No. I’m me.’ They kept on trying though. I was fed up with it! As soon as I graduated from high school, I left. It’s been pretty good so far, working as a drifter. I’ve been to Berlin, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and even Barcelona for a bit. Once I get bored of London, I plan on heading to Dublin.”
Jay had left out so many more details. Whenever she ran out of money, she sneaked into parties for food and hotels to stay in. She’s engaged to a stranger, but hasn’t seen him (or was it a her?) since then. Although, Jay wasn’t entirely sure of that story. She just remembered waking up in pub in Amsterdam with a ring on her finger. In fact, Jay isn’t even her real name.
Jay remembered all those arguments she’s had. Those explosive rows with her parents she had when she was sent home for wearing the boys’ uniform, dying her hair, and rebellious acts like graffiting the walls on the bathroom or skipping school. Jay wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. Jay grimaced as she though of all those dinners she’s skipped and all those night spent crying or breaking things in her room, out of anger.
Jay looked back at the morning she left. It was early in the morning. She had just came home from a graduation party. After a shower, a meal, and some much-needed sleep. Jay had taken a fair amount of money from her parents and combined it with the money she had saved from skipping out on college. As quickly as she could, Jay caught the first bus going out of the city.
She looked back at all the memories she had before she became Jay Monroe. All the memories when she was still Jaquelle Maison.
“Did the same when I was your age,” the old man stated, pulling Jay out of her thoughts. “And look at me, now. Don’t you ever miss your family?”
Another surprise. Jay wondered why this man asked all of those questions. All of the questions that she was never asked before. All of the questions that made her think about her life and what she was doing.
“No,” Jay lied. She did miss those movie nights she shared with her sisters, the hot meals her mom cooked, and those little trinkets her dad would always bring he from his business trips.
“Then, call them,” the old man suggested. “Ask to come home. Trust me. I always wanted to it, but now I can’t. It’s too late.”
“Just because you wanted to do it, doesn’t mean I need to,” Jay said, wanting to change the subject.
“But you will,” the old man insisted.
Jay started losing her temper and forgot about the need to have her British accent. “No, I will not!” she spat, sounding French. Jay stood up, not caring about the rain. “Nor will I ever!” Jay ran into the rain, not caring about getting wet.
That was the first time Jay realized she missed home.
Sat Jun 12, 2021 1:03 am by 
Subject: Jay Monroe 
