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Tiny, neat squares were all that could satisfy me.
Packing your entire closet into the only suitcase you owned, wasn't an easy feat. Especially not when you could feel the ghost of your stepfather's breath sliding down your goosebump riddled neck.
The only thing that slapped me back into reality every now and again, was the sunlight filtering through my blinds. The hot rays branded themselves onto my skin and stabbed me with their heat, reminding me that I was still alive. That there was an opportunity to escape, and that I had to hurry up and take it.
Clouding my judgment, was my anger at my new reality. Yes, I would be attending my dream school, where my art would be taken seriously, but at what cost? My sanity, my sanctity?
But then again, it was best that I left this place behind. Just being in this room made my stomach ache, like something was in my abdomen trying to claw its way out with dull talons.
I hated accepting my stepfather's help, but deep down, I knew what prompted him to extend his hand.
I mindlessly zipped up my suitcase when I was finished packing, and bent down, gripping the two duffle bags on the floor that I had packed the previous night. Everything else that I needed was in a moving van that was already halfway to Florida by now. I didn't take much because I didn't want many belongings that reminded me of this place.
My parents' low milling could be heard, and my body trembled lightly as I walked out of my room without looking back. The nerves were overwhelming, but I willed myself to keep pushing. What was I so afraid of? After all, my stepfather was paying for this.
I used my limited limb availability to check my purse to make sure that I had my phone and other small items I usually kept on my persona. I straightened my shoulders as I descended the stairs. My head lightly thumped, reminding me of the tight bun that I had pulled my hair into, in case anything happened. My parents were unpredictable, and I wanted to be prepared.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I sent a cold glare in my parents direction as they talked amongst each other in the living area. I gritted my teeth, leashing the snarky remark that beat its fists against my teeth. I needed to leave in peace, and a smart remark would foil that plan.
My mother looked as dazed as always, entranced in my stepfather's deceptive eyes that masked themselves in irresistible charm.
My stepfather must have heard me enter the room, because he turned his head, which spurred my mother to do the same.
Ronnie was not a pleasant person. He was a weaselly excuse for a man that did whatever he pleased at others' expense. He had no concept of consequences and had women like my mother wrapped around my finger. Now, if my mother was playing him in return? That was something that I'd probably never figure out.
