Bent, But Not Broken

Chapter 1

 I stared out my window at the passing cars, wishing to be anywhere other than here. Moving was a hassle. I used to love it as a child, but that was when the only thing I had to do was gather my own clothes. Now I was strong enough to move boxes and old enough to clean the house one last time before we left.

I felt uncomfortable sitting in the car with my mom. For the last three hours, we hadn't said a thing. I wasn't used to being with her for more than five minutes, as she was always at work or sleeping. I'd never spent time with her before, and it saddened me when I thought of other people's relationships with their mother's. I would have given anything to have a civil conversation with my mom.

I flipped the radio on, smiling as a song I knew came on. I tapped my foot to the tune, and then my mom changed it. I grimaced as she settled on rap. Now, I have nothing against rap, it just isn't my favorite. I enjoyed mellower music, not something that made me wish I could smash my head against the dashboard. I did enjoy some rap. But I had to be in the right mood to hear it. Right now I was not in the mood for it. But it was my mom's decision, so I left it alone.

Four hours of rap later, we finally pulled into a drive of our new house. I wasn't surprised to find the house quite large and old looking. My parents loved that type of thing. What caught my attention was the tire swing, and the large oak it was attached to. The perfect climbing tree, I noted. I ran to the back of the home and gaped when I saw a creek and a forested area. I couldn't stop the squeal that poured out of my lips. If I hadn't detested where we had moved, I would have thought this was the best place we'd lived so far. But we lived where he was, so it was by far the worst.

I headed up front again and waited on the porch as my father unlocked the door. It opened to a large foyer with a beautiful chandelier hanging above. A true Victorian style house, I mused. I'd lived in them ever since I was young, so it wasn't as grand to me as it should have been.

"The biggest room is ours," my dad said awkwardly. "But other than that, you can claim whatever room or rooms you want." He left to start unpacking and I rushed upstairs to find the rooms. The top of the stairs appeared to be the middle of a long hall, doors lining both sides. I chose the left side first and opened every door, wrinkling my nose at how dirty the place was. Two doors led to bathrooms, and the remaining ones led to more rooms. The last door I opened opened to stairs. I left it open and ran to other side, finding much the same-bathrooms and rooms or closets. The last one led to nothing. Or rather, it was a simple closet, leaving me disappointed. I ran back to the other side and flipped on a light and skipped up the stairs, taking two at a time. It was another room, but I immediately claimed it as my own upon seeing all the little nooks surrounding the room.

I was left puzzled, however. The room seemed to end there and there should be another side of the house. I heard my name called and rushed downstairs, deciding to leave that mystery for later. I helped unload, but not before cleaning every inch I could of at least the floor. Both of my parents were impatient, and only allowed that much. I would have to clean later.

By the time were finished, I was exhausted and starving. I grabbed some meat from a cooler and then ran to my room and fell on my bed. I was asleep in minutes.

The next morning when I awoke, I dressed and headed downstairs, anxious to ask some questions about the home. Like about plumbing, for instance. The place was ancient, and I was afraid to run water. My parents already sat at the table, not yet leaving for work till the next day. They were allowed another day off to help settle in before they became workaholics again.

"Good morning," I said, grabbing an orange and getting some juice. I looked through what we had in the fridge, which looked too new for the home, and grabbed some eggs. Eggs were easy and quick.