Isabella Parker was moved away from her six brothers and friends at the age of 8 following her parents divorce, with the hopes of starting a new life with her Dad in New York.
Now, six years later, young Izzy is 14 and forced to move back home as he...
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CHAPTER TWO
Taylor swift blasted through my ears as I say nervously in our cab, watching the trees skim past me.
I haven't left the city in years, let alone travelling hours to a completely different state. I'm already missing the hustle and bustle of my city, the late nights at the basketball courts and my weekly dunkin donut runs with Isla.
I don't think the reality of it all has fully hit, the idea that I'll probably never be living in the same area with the same people is far too daunting to process, let alone accept.
My Dad hasn't spoken a word since I called him an asshole in front of the flight attendant while leaving the plane, it's been two fucking hours.
I'm trying to drown out his insufferable silence with music, something that always seems to calm me down when stressed or upset.
Flynn first sparked my love for it when he'd constantly be playing it loudly in his room, the walk we share vibrating excessively. It was only dragged further when Owen introduced me to music, we'd spend hours in Owens garage writing songs and performing them to our parents.
Grayson sings to, but he's never done it in front of anyone other than me. I can tell he's really passionate about it, he's also extremely talented.
I shake the boy out of my thoughts before I allow any tears to escape my eyes for what seems to be the tenth time today. I hogged the plane bathroom for twenty five minutes when I couldn't stop sobbing uncontrollably, I don't think anyone really realises how hard this whole thing is for me.
It's oddly frustrating seeing these woodland roads again, the last place I'd seen them was the day I left for the last time. I get the urge to cut them all down, sawing them away until I can't recognise them anymore. Until I'm left with no reminders of my childhood. Of how they all left me.
I hate them. I hate this place. I hate my family.
My heart absent mindedly lurches at the sudden though of my family, old wounds being forcefully ripped open as I'm made to relive the past.
I can't stop my wondering mind as I question what my brothers now look like, if six years did them justice of not.
Logan, the eldest, must be twenty four now. Holy fuck. The last time I talked to him he was eighteen and had just passed his driving test after three failed attempts.
And Caleb, my twin. I think of how much I've changed in the past couple years and can only pray the same didn't happen to him, wanting the golden boy I loved to be exactly the same.
It feels so surreal to count myself as a twin, I've lived as an only child for so many years I'm not sure how I'll cope with so many faces around the house.
Especially their familiar faces. I find myself wishing my Dad had remarried years ago, to another woman. Maybe then we'd still live in New York, maybe she'd help move us into a bigger apartment. Maybe she'd have two daughters and i'd finally get a sister like I'd dreamt for for years, maybe we'd be living peacefully as a perfect little family.
