|Dear Aiden|Justin Bieber|

|Dear Aiden|Justin Bieber|20|

I was prohibited from returning to class for the principal had heard through the grapevine that a group of girls had planned to gang up on me at the end of the school day in the court yard. I was to go home and stay there until I was notified that I could return to school. I was going to miss so many classes and have so much late work, but Principal Hinson told me that he would have my work sent to my sister and she would bring it to me. It may get to Kylee, but it will never find itself in my hands.

Justin offered to come home with me, but I said it was fine and that I really would rather be by myself. So now I find myself laying in my living room floor, trying to clear my mind. Mom wasn’t home even though it was around the time when she should be getting home. Kylee came home for a few minutes to change clothes and then she went out again with her friends. She’d heard the rumors but of course she knew that they weren’t true. She said that I was too much of a ‘frigid bitch’ for it to be true. It didn’t matter the reasoning behind her conclusion that it was all a lie, just as long as she didn’t believe it.

It was starting to get dark outside and I began to worry about my mother. She still wasn’t home. I pulled my cell phone out of my right pocket and called her. It didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail. Her phone was off. Maybe she went out with some work friends.

I remained in the same spot until it was completely dark outside, the one light being that of the full moon shining through the blinds. It caught my attention when I saw a shadow move across the window in the dining room. Behind that window was the sidewalk leading from the gate to what some would call our front door. I stayed silent and watched it closely. I saw as it moved slowly from that window to the front door where I could see that it was a person. I quickly got up and walked over to it, figuring it was Gator trying to freak me out. I opened the door and—darkness, black, nothing…nothing….noth...no…

The day we moved out of Robert’s house was the best and most depressing day of my life. I remember walking down the hallway that I had been up and down at least a million times in the four years that I lived there for what I thought would be that last time.  Each slow step that I took towards the entry hall held flashbacks. I remembered the day we moved in, when we were a family. As I looked to my right, I saw Kylee’s room that we had all painted together. It was a golden yellow with a deep crimson accent wall. Of course this was before Kylee’s father died and she was a happy, drug free teenager with dreams and ambition.

The motion sensing light didn’t come on when I passed it, the bulb was out. Robert was out on the road, he’s a truck driver, and we’d decided to take this time to pack our things without his demeaning presence hanging over us every second. My bedroom was packed and empty, everything already in the back of the U-Haul along with everything of my sister’s. My brother was putting boxes of my mom’s things in the truck and my mother was in the kitchen packing up all of her cooking utensils and kitchen decorations into cardboard boxes.

I took the step down into the sunk-in living room. The carpet in the area where our rug had been was whiter than the rest and the stains around the boarder of it seemed even worse by comparison. I remembered our first Christmas in this house. I got the stereo that I have now that day. I also remembered all of the fights that took place in this room. That time when Robert thought that my mother was having an affair with the older man who shared a cubicle with her at work. His name was Pete, and my mom was definitely not having an affair with him. She looked at him like a father since my papa had died when I was in the sixth grade. The pictures that had hung in a symmetrical formation on both sides of the small open window that was between the kitchen and the living room were gone and I remembered the reason they were there in the first place as my eye caught the gaping hole next to the light switch. When my brother was in high school, he got frustrated with something and hit the wall. It only left a dent, but the dent was deep enough for Robert to notice when he got home that night. In a drunken rage he’d yelled at my brother: “If you’re going to punch a hole in the wall then fucking do it” and punched the wall, transforming the small dent to a large crater.

Robert called the second we left the house in the U-Haul, “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"--