Until the Days Gone By and the Delivery Notice Turn into Treasure

I always wear the same clothes and have few belongings. That is because I escaped with only one bag.
Starting with being controlled, even after repeated violence, I convinced myself that "I am loved," and my senses became numb.

Eventually, my mind and body reached their limit, I became unable to speak, and only then did I realize I was cornered and woke up.

Taking advantage of a moment when my ex-boyfriend, Matsuzane, was distracted, I slipped out of the apartment at dawn.
I will never forget that cold yet liberating air of that day, I will never forget it for the rest of my life.
To regain my stolen freedom and my true self, I have been working desperately in a new environment, and about a year is about to pass.

My life changed drastically after that.
I had to let go of not only my favorite hairbrush and nail polish but even my warm slippers and cardigans, and I have to buy things for each season.

A friend who let me stay at her place until I found a place to live said,
"Rika, you should just think of it as being reborn there."
and that encouraged me. Thanks to her, I am managing to look at things positively and live in the present.

By the way, when I checked the mailbox upon returning home, there was a so-called "delivery notice" inside.
I didn't remember ordering anything online, and as I climbed the apartment stairs and looked at the sender's column, I almost fell.
Instead of me, the thin piece of paper fluttered down onto the pale gray floor.

Sending something to myself addressed to me is absurd.
If it were someone's prank, or if it were Matsuzane, it would mean he found my current address, so I shuddered, tore up the delivery notice, and hid it in the garbage to throw it away.

That didn't settle it.
A few days later, in the afternoon, about seven boxes of luggage were delivered, and the narrow entrance was filled with cardboard boxes.
In front of the delivery person who had lined them up quickly and neatly, I was just stunned; somehow, I had been dragged into a mystery.

Still, there was no point in being at a loss; according to the slip, it was sent from my previous address, so I was convinced it was Matsuzane's doing.
The items were all miscellaneous goods; thank you very much for the "thoughtful" seven boxes.
Maybe ending things with him is just right if it's this disgusting.

"Heave-ho."
When I tried taking down one box and peeling off the packing tape with my bare hands, it hurt.
However, when I opened it, there was a memo pad stuck on top of the plastic, with a watercolor painting on the cover (sweet potatoes, mushrooms, etc., an autumn collection) that soothed my heart.

I fearfully flipped through the item that was once indispensable for writing notes to each other, and read "To the future me," written in my own handwriting without a doubt.

"I intended to leave here around dawn, but as expected, he found me and I had a terrible time. I hope it goes well next time. This luggage should arrive around the time my life settles down." "From the past me." The date was about a year ago, and my skin was pricked by the unforgettable air.

--I learned for the first time that there is a pattern where you cannot succeed safely.

My guard was still up, and the trembling ballpoint pen letters blurred toward the end due to frustration, and I could hear the painful cry of "Please, pray for my success!"
If the escape failed, he would tie me up until I spat out the plan I had devised, and he would easily lock me in the bathroom for days; Matsuzane is "that kind" of person.

However, I would never have thought it was a gift from myself to myself.

Pulling myself together, I moved the towels and plastic aside, and the contents of the box were stage posters, pamphlets, paper tickets, opera glasses, binoculars, and various original goods that I had collected bit by bit, and I embraced the fragments of my lost hobbies.
Endless boxes of books, scripts, and magazines (there were only a few "Discs") continued heavily, and oh my, I really had thrown everything away.

I opened and closed them with force, my fingertips dried out, and eventually they cracked. I still couldn't stop, and I encountered a full set of basic skincare and cosmetics, rummaged through a bag packed with small bottles, and found that nail polish.

Beauty appliances, hair care goods, jewelry cases, accessories, handkerchiefs; even though it wasn't written that there were clothes, there were socks and hats.
Even if there were no undergarments, a few clothes were helpful. I spread out the coat and down jacket I could use in winter, my heart raced like I was treasure hunting, and the friends I hadn't seen in a long time busily erased the loneliness of being alone.

Anyway. No matter how I think about it, Matsuzane's surveillance was there, and carrying the luggage, let alone sending it, is not a fairy tale, it's impossible.

I flatly denied the ridiculous sight of cardboard boxes everywhere, from the entrance through the dining kitchen to the western-style room... but later, I reconsidered that it was impossible.

In short, strangely enough, it seems that my past self prayed with all their might, and even if not everything, a carefully selected few of those 'precious things' have reached the present.

"Sorry, Rika. I love you."
Matsumi's overused line felt even more chilling in the autumn twilight.
In the jewelry case were a single-diamond pendant, a ring that shimmered with aurora colors, and a delicate high-brand wristwatch.

I gratefully sell the items that were beyond my means, which I received on anniversaries.