She tried to imagine what school was going to be like the next day. Things were going to be different, and a part of her was missing. Anticipating these generic comments of sorrow was the worst part of it. That, and deciding how she would answer. As she went back to the living room, she sat in the comfortable chair that looked outside into the already darkened street. Cars continuously passed, a large black one screeched outside before moving on, and she couldn’t help thinking back. Her mother abruptly turned, apparently startled out of her trance by the noise. They knew that they were both thinking about the same thing, but neither said a word. The reflections of the glasses on their shelves shimmered in the window, giving a ghost-like floating appearance.
She could barely stand the silence; it was driving both of them crazy. She tried to remember the last time she had exchanged more than two words with her mother. She looked at the exhausted older woman, still seeing signs of pain on her face. It was interesting to her, because although her mother had lost the one thing in her life that was most hurtful to her, she had also lost one of the two others that she deeply cared for. The young girl looked at the free standing mirror in the corner of the room. She didn’t see any human reflection because of the angle it was facing. She got up, passing her sleeping mother on the way out. She kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room, but her mother didn’t stir and she assumed she didn’t feel it.
Turning the bronze doorknob and entering the brightly lit room comforted her. She flopped onto one of the soft twin beds and looked up to the ceiling. Around the room were many pictures of the same looking girl smiling and laughing. Looking at these made her want to cry, but she withheld, using it as practice for the next day at school. One picture did not match the others; it was her father. He held a glass in the picture, looking happy, as if he was toasting someone on an achievement. She wished this was the truth, but she had rarely seen the man happy during the day. Her floral bedspread looked inviting; she wanted to curl up and to submerge these covers, because the room was getting colder. Unfortunately it was not that simple. She made herself resist from sleeping and dragged herself up and over to the flat, black table on which her untouched school work lay. She sorted through them all, looking for her English book. She proceeded to read, but her mind drifted as it always did. Dreading school on a Monday was usual, but this time it was different. She couldn’t believe her mother was going to make her go with all that had happened. Seemingly faced with no option, she realized that this would never end. Nothing was going to go back to the way it was; the bad, but bearable days of their old family life.
She looked in her closet for a bag, pulled one out, and opened it on top of all the school books. It was small, but her most important belongings didn’t even fill it half way. She zipped it closed and without looking back left the room in its current state of untidiness. Her bag felt heavier than it had looked, but she knew this was the only thing she could do to get away from it all. She hadn’t realized until now, but she was feeling weak, tired and the clothes that she’d been wearing for two days now were dirty.
She looked down the hall to see her mother still asleep in the cozy living room and then looked in the opposite direction to the front door of their house. She walked down the darkly lit hall and could see the light beside the door, showing her the way to walk. Swinging the bag over her shoulder carelessly, she knocked over a glass and the car keys, which were on top of a table. She heard her mother stand up, and looked down at the mess of keys, glass and liquid on the floor with a heavy heart. Quickly, she opened the door and slipped out, locking the heavy door on the way out and mentally mapping her way.