Taken Away

Chapter 2

I wake up to the smell of pancakes and a mild sizzling noise coming from downstairs. Dazed from lack of sleep, all I do is lay there, tangled within my blankets, and for a second I forget that I’m not in  my own home, not in Ohio. But staring at the blank walls, realization dawns:  I’m not in the comfort of my home, and I won’t be there for a very long time.

I suddenly notice in disgust that I fell asleep in same clothes I wore on the plane, and immediately shoot out of bed. How could I forget to shower or at least change before sleeping? Grabbing a set of clean clothes, I step out into the hall, desperately trying to push the fact that we’ve moved out of my mind.  

“Where in the world is the bathroom?” I wonder aloud. Deciding not to spend time looking, I start toward my parent’s room, feeling the fuzzy new carpet press against my bare feet. I take a quick peek before entering, making sure no one else is inside; I have no wish to speak to anyone at the moment. The room is empty, the bed’s blankets ruffled messily, showing signs of recent sleep. A wave of relief washes over me as I tentatively walk towards the bathroom.

The white floor tiles are cool under my feet and my reflection catches my eye. My hair is pulled messily up into a bun, and as I pull it out it tumbles over my shoulder in waves. My eyes look light and empty as they study themselves, and my usually vibrant skin unnaturally pale. I look confused and lost, and a part of me wishes that I didn’t look so misplaced. In truth, there is a half of me that is curious and ready to see what new things could be offered, but that tiny ray of hope is easily crushed by the weary and unwilling part of me. Why did I fight the change when it would help me? Why was I being so selfish?

I straighten, defiance filling my eyes as I lift my head a little and pinch my cheeks, making them pink from the pressure. “I,” I say into the mirror, “will stop complaining and accept the change. For now.”I nod seriously at myself, as though challenging my reflection to talk back. A satisfied and goofy grin gradually appears on face as I take in the ridiculousness of what I had just done.

The shower handle squeaks as I turn it, allowing the burning hot flow of water to spew out of the faucet. It’s a quick shower, as I’ve recently become afraid that the world is going to destroy itself piece by piece through its wasteful ways. It's unusual for me to shower in the morning— it’s always confused me why people wake up earlier than they have to just to shower at this time of day.

Steam rises lazily as I step out, water dripping down the sides of my face in clear little beads.  The mirrors are cloudy and I sing softly to myself, my voice echoing across the sound forgiving room. The hot water washed away much of my anxiety, and after my little self-ridicule session I feel more at ease. Yesterday’s rain and dreariness have passed, leaving behind a sun ready to peek out of the clouds.  

“These pancakes are good,” I comment at the table, chewing the fluffy deliciousness.

“I ‘gree!” Joel smiles, holding up sticky hands.

I laugh and pat his head. My parents watch us intently, or mostly me, as if waiting for some outburst or snarky comment. Not that I can blame them. Rushing, I gulp the cold milk down and set the glass cup on the worn out wooden table. Joel lets out a loud sigh of satisfaction as he copies me, setting his own plastic blue cup down. His cheeky grin and milk moustache are too adorable to resist as I laugh out loud. He giggles with me, bringing little fist up to his mouth. My parents remain silent, just watching. Sunlight streams through the sheer white curtains, casting a glint off Joel’s blond hair as I watch him, avoiding my parent's gaze. I clear my throat, uncomfortable.

“I was wondering—”

My parents slightly lean forward, alert.

“—if I could start painting for my room again? It’s a bit bare for my taste.”