Moving on

I have always fit in, I have always had friends and a girlfriend. I used to live in San Diego, until my stepdads job forced us to move to Michigan. I have always moved around a lot, so it wasn't exactly a shock to me or my sister, Kenzi.

I live with my Stepdad and my sister, but this was different than the last time we moved. My mother died two months ago, and it hit my family hard. She had an undiagnosed medical condition, pancreatic cancer. My mother used to be a manager for a towel company. She would go to door to door and sell towels, I know it isn't the ideal job. She loved it though, and it was just one of the weird things about her that everyone loved.

She had started to get back pains, but she continued to work until one morning I was checked out of homeroom by my aunt. My mother had been admitted to the local hospital.

I remember every detail of that day, like it was yesterday.

Upon arriving to the hospital, my aunt had explained why my mother was there in the first place. She had started having spasms in her left arm, her throat closing up as she continued to throw up blood. My aunt had been in town for the past week, she was supposed to get driven to the airport an hour after my mother had starting having breathing problems.

I remember walking down the hallway, looking at the white tiles on the hospital floor. It smelled of pine saw and lemon, my heart racing as we stopped at a door with the curtains down.

Room #307

My aunt slowly opened the door, moving the curtains out of the way. There on the hospital bed, laid my mother. My once beautiful and energetic mother was laying on the hospital bed. She had bags under her eyes, IV's and tubes connecting her to different bags of liquids and machines. Her lips had a blue tint to them, and her eyes were dull.

She looked at me, her eyes so dull and lifeless I had to shut mine. Kenzie wasn't here yet, but I knew I would have to stay strong for her. She was Three years younger than me, she was in her second year of middle school, while I was in my sophomore year of highschool.

I could hear the sound of shoes hitting the white tiles from down the hallway, my hands clenching in fists. I knew it was Kenzi, I also knew I wasn't ready to see her. I took a shaky breath, going to the corner of the room and putting my head in my hands.

I heard the atrocious sound of the medal rings scraping against the rod that was holding curtains up, my hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair. I heard a loud gasp, my eyes trained on my feet.

"M-Mom?" I heard the feminine voice of my sister, my heart clenching. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand hearing her like that, I couldn't stand looking at my mother when she was like this. I couldn't cry. I needed to get out.

I stood up, my knees threatening to buckle under me as I quickly walked to the sliding door. I could hear my name being called, but it didn't matter. I continued to walk, past the doctor who was talking to my Stepdad and Pass the nurses who were having lunch. I walked past the endless hallway of rooms until I was walking out of the exit doors.

I can remember the feeling of pain turning to numbness as I walked down the sidewalk. I can remember the ache in my heart as I walked back into my homeroom class, getting my backpack and going to second period.

I am still upset with myself for walking out on my family like that, but I couldn't help it. I had to, I had to get out. No one has questioned what I did, and no one has mentioned mother around me besides at her funeral. I never got to see her again, and that is no one else's fault but my own.

-

"Kian!" my sister yelled, waving her hand infront of my face. I looked up at her, leaning back in my seat when she just starred at me.

"We're here, Stop starring off into space. You look like you're possessed." She laughed, getting out of the car. I took a deep breath, opening the car door. I let out a small gasp, forgetting about the temperature change.

I had been in the car for 33 hours straight, my legs like Jello as I slowly walked up the stone pathway leading to my new home.

It was bigger than our old house in California, A lot nicer too. The neighborhood was nice, there were a few kids that looked around Kenzi's age. All of them on bikes as they examined us moving in. I opened the front door, my face scrunching up in distaste at the smell of paint.

There was a flight of stairs to my left, a short hallway leading what I guess was the kitchen infront of me. My stepdad, Chris, had picked out the house, it was my first time here.

It was a 5 bedroom, 3 bath house with 2 stories. On the journey here, We had agreed that I would get the master bedroom. I was here more than either of them were anyway, so I guess it didn't matter.

Kenzi did theater 5 days out of the week, leaving me home alone while Chris worked for weeks at a time. Chris drove trucks for a dairy company, most of which were around here.

I decided taking the stairs was my best bet, a small duffle bag wrapped thrown over my shoulder as I walked up the stairs. All of the bedroom doors were open, my eyes darting from room to room until I found what I was guessing was the master bedroom.

I pushed the door open a bit more, smiling when I saw the size of the room. It was big, bigger than I had expected it to be. It had a few large windows and a giant closet. There was a bathroom with double sinks, a shower, and a large bath tub. My bed had already been moved in, along with my dresser and Tv.

I had a few boxes in the corner of the room, most of them containing clothes and books. I placed my bag on the bed, opening the first box. I spent the next hour and a half putting my clothes in my closet, pushing my bed to the corner of the room when My sister walked in.

"Dinner is downstairs." She said, looking around my room. She sat on my bed, laying back as I pushed it to the wall.

"Can you help me move my bed later?" She asked, looking up at me with innocent eyes. I groaned, but nodded. There was no point in fighting her, she would just continue to ask until I agreed.

I ran my hand through my hair, leaving her in my room. I walked down the stairs, poking my head into the kitchen. Chris was sitting at the bar, eating a sub and looking at his phone.

He looked up at me, smiling and pushing the bag in my direction. I looked inside, deciding I wasn't hungry. I grabbed a sub, putting it in the fridge and shutting the door.

"I've decided to let you skip school for the next week, I want you to get used to stuff." Chris said as I was walking out. I slowly turned my head, starring at him.

"Kenzi too?" I asked, leaning against the door way.

Chris has been weird around me lately, always going easy on me and being nicer than usual. He was always very careful when he spoke to me and spoke to me in monotone.

"No, she adjusts faster. She can take the bus home, I have to leave tomorrow morning." He said, standing up. I rolled my eyes and nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets.

I wanted to go to school, I wanted to meet people and I wanted everything to be normal. It seemed like that was impossible now though, Even though the people here don't know about what happen. My family is different.

That's one thing I love about moving. If I made a mistake, If something big happened that I never wanted to talk about again, no one knew.

I made my way up the stairs, going to my room and continuing to unpack. I was ready to move on.

I was ready to forget.

--

The rest of the night was filled with boxes, and more boxes. My arms sore as I lay in bed that night. This was so different. It felt wrong, I felt like everything was wrong. All of this was a mistake, and we all knew it.

No one had mentioned that we were leaving my mother, she had been buried in a cemetery back in San Diego. We left her when we moved, and it didn't seem to even bother them.

I know it does, and I'm pretty sure they had talked about it before we left. It just hurt a bit sometimes, for them to not include me in conversations about something like this. It would just be nice to be a real family again, but we aren't. We are no longer whole, and we no longer can have 'family nights' or have 'family bonding' because our family is broken.

This is something we are all aware of, but none of us have dared to say it aloud. We are all broken in different ways, but somehow it hasn't hit me yet.

I'm still expecting to wake up, to smell burnt pancakes and hear my mom laugh. I'm still expecting my mom's voice, or my sister and her arguing all the time. I'm waiting for a phone call from her, telling me she's fine and it all worked out, because that's what she always says, or used to say anyway.

I didn't get much sleep that night, so I wasn't exactly happy when Kenzi woke me up at 6am the next morning.

"Kian." She stated, her voice preppy and obnoxiously loud. I groaned, pulling my white comforter over my head. I could still hear her sock clawed feet on my carpet when she pulled the comforter from my body.

"I need you to drive me to school, I missed the bus." She said, poking my shoulder. I rubbed my eyes, slowly letting them adjust to the light.

"How could you miss the bus on your first day?" I asked, glaring at her as I pulled a shirt over my head. She shrugged, running her fingers through her silky brown hair.

"Don't expect me to get up at 6am every morning to drive you, go get in the car. I'll be down in a minute." I said, clearing my throat. She disappeared down the hallway, leaving me sitting on my bed still half awake.

I grabbed my phone, pulling on some sweatpants before making my way down stairs. I grimaced at the feeling of the cold hardwood against the soles of my feet, goosebumps rising on my skin as I pulled a baggy sweatshirt over my head. I grabbed a pair of shoes, not bothering to properly put them on as I made my way into the garage.

"You took long enough." she mumbled, earning a glare from me.

We were often cruel to each other in the morning, more so on weekdays than weekends. We were for the most part close, we couldn't really talk about family Issues, but she always knew if something went wrong I would stop what I was doing to make sure she was okay.

The car ride to the local middle school was silent, the only noise the sound being the music filtering from the static radio speakers. The ride was short, five minutes at most. She did seem to have something on her mind though.

"Thanks. Love you bye." She said, smiling at me before getting out of the car. I furrowed my brows, biting my lip as I drove out of the student drop off lane.

I ended up driving around for a under half an hour, looking at all of the views and buildings. The town seemed to be pretty secluded, their weren't many big cooperations that would draw any attention to it, and other than the views their weren't many other tourist attractions.

By the time I had gotten back home, the sun had risen and their seemed to be a lot of people outside compared to last night. Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with that, But I've been in an antisocial mood lately, and nothing bothers me more then people stopping by every twenty minutes to meet the new neighbors.

I spent the remainder of my morning unboxing all of my belongings, ignoring all of the commotion downstairs.

I like being alone sometimes, I like being able to blare music and read my books.

I couldn't enjoy myself like I usually did this time though, I couldn't stop myself from stressing about school. I normally make friends pretty quickly, my bright green eyes and thick brown hair often drawing lots of attention to myself, But something told me this would be different. What if it didn't work out like it usually does?

I feel like I'm a different person now, I feel like ever since my mom died, part of me died. Stuff isn't the same, and I don't expect it to be. Though for some reason, I'm disappointed in myself. I always told myself not to get close to people, have boundaries and you won't get hurt. I've always understood the concept of death and I have always known that people will leave, but it seemed like my mother exceeded those boundaries, and no matter how uncomfortable that made me, I knew there wasn't a damn thing to do about it.

Now, my boundaries are forgotten. Everything I have trained myself to believe in, doesn't seem to add up anymore. Emotions are the one thing that will exceed those boundaries, and the sooner I accept it, the sooner I move on.

Why would I want to move on though? Why would I want to move on from a life with good friends and close family? Why would I want to let my walls down? I did, for the one person I could trust with anything, and now I'm alone.

In pain, and Alone.