Suitcases

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Three days after my visit with Linda, on the very last day of summer, I am packing my single suitcase for rehab while every other girl my age is packing their backpacks for their senior year of high school.

At least I'll be missing three weeks of burning in that three-story, concrete-walled hell of a school. No need to eat my lunch in the bathroom for a time.

Once I finish stuffing what I require in the suitcase, I pretend I'm not finished and rearrange it all. I am terrified. My hands shake and nearly drip with sweat. It's bad enough that I am being flung into a totally new social environment, but even worse that I'll be FORCED to talk within that environment. There will be no grabbing of books and escaping to roofs at this place. And probably nobody like Tessa to befriend.

I gave up any hope of that nature a long time ago.

"JACKIE!" My mother's shrill screech bounces up the stairs and penetrates the wood of my door. "JACKIE, I KNOW YOU'RE DONE BY NOW!"

I let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Why now? Why today? I'm not close to ready.

Though I probably never will be.

"Coming!" I shout back. There is no more time for stalling now. I flip the lid of the suitcase over my clothes and zip it shut. Then, after taking one last glance around my room to ensure that anything my parents shouldn't see is hidden away, I leave my bedroom.

I feel like I am leaving more than just a room; just a location. I am leaving behind a way of life. I am leaving behind my past.



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