H A U N T E D

t h r e e

t h r e e

After retrieving my boxes from underneath the staircase and unpacking their contents in my new bedroom, I decided to go to bed early.

The chill from earlier hasn't left my body yet, and I feel as though I am on constant edge. I know what these symptoms mean and I anxiously glance at my window at the setting sun, while getting my room in order. Once the night comes, I'll be forced to endure 12 hours of darkness, with no light coming in. I curse myself for forgetting my nightlight back at our old apartment, knowing I'll never be able to retrieve it.

I'll just have to buy one in the morning, once I've bought my new school stationery. This coming Monday, I'll be joining the school student body of Homer High School, adding to the small population. I know I don't feel the nerves right now, but tomorrow I'll be forced to face this new chapter in my life, something I know I am not capable of.

I unpack my laptop, plug it into the charger and open my music folder, clicking on a 'Dope Lemon' song to play while I'm getting ready for bed. I plug in my Bluetooth speaker and connect it to my laptop, making sure the volume is loud enough to reach me while showering but low enough not to disturb Finn. I don't think he'd appreciate music that mainly goes about sex and drugs.

I make sure I don't take too long, telling myself I can wash my hair tomorrow so that it's soft and clean for my first school day. After I'm done showering, I start my skincare routine, staring at myself in the mirror while applying moisturizer. My thoughts travel to the old man downstairs, probably in his shed doing whatever makes him happy.

I know why Finn is so curt with me, even if he might not realize it. I am the carbon copy of my mother, except she had dark hair and my hair is golden blonde, like my father's - at least that's what my mother told me. And I inherited her gray eyes, the ones she used to call her very own hurricane, because of how much it resembles storm clouds. Every time Finn looks at me, he sees what could have been.

My mother and her father never got along easily. Maybe she liked to defy him, maybe he liked to limit her. They just were the polar opposites of each other, constantly nagging and fighting. My grandfather is from a strict religious background and was not impressed at all when he found out my mother was dabbling in Witchcraft and Magick. The only thing stopping him from sending her to a Catholic school or something, was my grandmother begging him not to send away her only child.

Although, he drew the line when my mother came home one day, her belly slightly round with the seed of an unknown man. He begged her to stop the seed from growing before it was too late, but my mother had already grown to love me, even though she never knew me. She always said that she had a vision of me, running through a field while the sun glowed and reflected off of my skin. She wanted to protect this beautiful image, even if it meant leaving home - which she did.

She never came home and my grandfather and my mother never made amends, and they never will.

I realize I have been staring at myself in the mirror for too long, and grab the glass I brought upstairs with me after packing the dishwasher. I fill the glass with tap water and search through my toiletries bag for my sleeping pills. The sun has just started to dip below the horizon and the stars are hidden under the constant clouds that circulate Homer. I've always wondered why it always seems to rain here. Obviously, there is altitude and geographical reasons, but why do people want to live here? It is beautiful, and you feel so much closer to nature, but the lack of Vitamin D can certainly lead to seasonal depression, right?

I pop a pill from my bottle and swig it down with three gulps of water. I walk back into my bedroom and set the music to a softer tone, allowing it to be background music. I open my bed, pushing the large comforter back and climbing underneath it. My eyes drift to my nightstand, where a digital alarm shows that it's just after half-past seven.