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Chapter 1: The Move

Chapter 1:

Her bedroom was now a barren space, stripped of anything personal. The walls were a faded off-white, marked in some spots by old posters that had long since been torn down, leaving behind faint shadows of their previous existence. Scattered across the floor were boxes-some half-packed, others left wide open, exposing their contents like an unfinished thought. The hardwood floors creaked when stepped on, a reminder of how empty the house felt now. Aubrey's twin bed, the only remaining piece of furniture, sat in the far corner of the room, its mattress bare except for the crumpled blanket she was laying on.

Aubrey lay sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her airpods were tucked snugly in her ears, drowning out the world with music. She scrolled aimlessly on her phone, trying to distract herself from the reality of the move. The house she had grown up in, the house that held years of memories-gone. In less than an hour, they'd leave it behind for good.

"Aubrey!" her mother called from downstairs.

Aubrey's fingers paused over her phone screen, and she sighed deeply, pulling out one airpod and letting it dangle from her ear. The sound of her mother's voice echoed up the stairs, pulling her back into the reality she was trying so hard to avoid. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to say goodbye.

Reluctantly, she pushed herself up from the bed, the weight of the moment heavy on her shoulders. She dragged herself to the door, each step feeling like she was leaving a piece of herself behind. As she reached the hallway, she took one last look over her shoulder at the now-empty bedroom. The space felt hollow, not just because of the absence of her things, but because this house had always been more than just walls and rooms-it had been home. And now, it was nothing.

The stairs creaked under her weight as she descended, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the house. The walls were bare, the rooms downstairs even emptier than hers had been. The house felt hollow, like all the life had been drained out of it. The air felt heavier, too, filled with the unspoken emotions of everyone who had lived there. Even though Aubrey was never one to get sentimental, there was something about leaving this place behind that felt too final.

She stepped outside, blinking as the late afternoon sun hit her face. The yard, once lively and filled with their things, now felt just as barren as the house. Aubrey shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, the oversized fabric engulfing her as she tried to shield herself from the breeze. She wore her favorite jeans and an old band tee with a messy ponytail. She liked being comfortable, and on a day like today, comfort was all she had left to cling to.

The rest of her family was already outside, standing in the driveway, watching as the movers loaded the last of the boxes into the back of the moving van. Her dad was leaning against the car, arms crossed over his chest, while Aubrey's little sister, Melody, danced around in her usual hyperactive way, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the moment.

Aubrey felt a pang of jealousy. How did Melody always manage to stay so carefree? It was as if the move meant nothing to her. She'd probably already forgotten all about their old home, excited as she was about the new one. Meanwhile, Aubrey couldn't help but feel like she was leaving a part of herself behind.

"Everything's going to be better from now on, Aubrey," her mother said, stepping beside her. Her voice was soft, comforting, but there was a hint of forced optimism there, the kind of tone parents use when they want to convince you-and maybe themselves-that everything's going to be okay.

Aubrey didn't respond. She just nodded, her eyes fixed on the moving van as the door slid shut with a loud clang. Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before walking back to the car.