Chapter 1
Shania’s POV
Mom smiles at my scratched up face. I tried to ride my friends skateboard and ended up face planting the cement. I try smiling back up at her, but wince when my cheek burns. She walks to the cabinet and pulls out the first aid kit. She picks up a band-aid and anti-bacterial spray. I wince again, because I know what’s coming. I didn’t mean to hit a rock, but it’s really hard to turn when you’re first learning. I’m pretty sure it’s hard to turn period, even though my friend says it isn’t. Mom pulls her golden blonde hair behind her ear and shakes the can of evil.
“Close it up tight, this might sting a little.” Mom says trying to calm me and failing. I tightly close my mouth and eyes and hold my breath. The spray hits my face and “stings” horribly. It takes 120% of my willpower not to scream. She places the band-aid over the cut and sighs. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?” she asks with a sparkle of sympathy in her eyes.
Yes. “No, it wasn’t. Okay, I’m going into my room.” I say and run through the hallway to my welcoming bed.
A white piece of paper lies on the pillow so I pick it up. Mom must have left this earlier when I went to ride the skateboard.
Shania, I need you to do the dishes and clothes for me. I’ve had a long day at work, and need to rest. I love you so very much! Thank you!
-Mom
I sigh and get up from the bed. At least Mom left a note. I crack my knuckles, A really bad habit I need to get rid of. I walk down to the dishwasher and start unloading. The glass goes in the white counter, plates in the cupboard, cups in the cup holders, and utensils in the drawer. Soon, I have the rest of my chores done, and I can sit back on my bed.
Mom really is the best. I’m her only child. She takes care of me. I let those sentences roam around my head. I guess I could be a better daughter. After all, I didn’t even feel bad for that lie earlier. I really need to work on my act. I get up from bed and look around my room. It’s painted baby blue with green lining. My white dresser sits across from me, and my closet is next to it. My TV hangs above my bean bag chair in the corner of the room.
I grab my laptop from under the bed and go onto my AIM account. There’s nothing to do here, and my laptop is boring. I put it down and pick up my photo album. I flip through fourteen years of pictures until I reach the last page. My dad isn’t in here, because Mom told me he died in a car accident. I never got to met him, and my mother never dated again. I guess that means she really loved him. On the very last pocket was a picture of me when I was a baby. I was wrapped up in my pink blanket lying next to someone. I didn’t know who because the picture is ripped halfway down the page.
A cold wind enters my room and I walk up to shut the window. The sudden icy wind clings to my body like a newborn to its mother. I gasped as a girl’s form appeared through the mist. She was looking at the same picture as I was, but it was the other half. She looked at me with the same piercing green eyes as me. I dropped the photo in shock, and the wind and the girl was gone.
