Not the Same

Chapter fourteen

All too quickly, I pull up in front of my lavish, Californian house.

Adam's car is parked in the driveway. Great, he's home already. I was hoping that I would have some time at the house before he showed up, but it seems as though I'm not that lucky. Sighing, I grab my belonging from the trunk and make my way inside.

The house looks just like it always does; like a rich, obnoxious family owns the place. The walls are covered in expensive paintings that my parents probably know nothing about, but bought them to show off. The interior is made up of marble, making our house feel even less warm and friendly. The house is filled with expensive furniture, all in the color scheme of black and white. My mother constantly talks about how much the furniture costs and how she would be devastated if it got destroyed. One time when Adam and I were younger, we spilled a juice box on the white couch; my mother was livid. To this day, she won't let us in the room with any kind of beverage.

I hear talking coming from the kitchen. Part of me wants to just run upstairs and hide in my room, but I know that will only anger my mother so I muster up as much courage as I can and walk into the room.

My mother is sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop and large binders scattered on the table. This is a common sight. My mother is a well-known wedding planner and is constantly working on someone's wedding.

Adam is sitting across from my mother at the table. When he sees me, he smirks. While Adam and I both don't get along with our parents too well, our mother has always favored him and we both know it.

"Hey, sis," Adam says in mock happiness, causing my mother to look up.

When she sees me, a look of disgust makes it way to her face. "Oh, Avery, you couldn't have put a little more effort into your appearance? Seriously, how could you ever feel comfortable walking around like that?"

"Hi, mom. Good to see you," I respond, trying my best not to lash out at her. I have to be here for about two more days. I can't start making things tense now.

"Do go upstairs to your room and change before dinner," she sighs while looking back down at her binders, signally that this is the end of our conversation.

I let out the sigh I've been holding in since entering the room and head upstairs to my room.

My room looks basically the same as it did before I left. My room has a queen bed pushed up against the wall in the middle of the room. My walls are painted pale pink and I have a sliding door that leads to my walk in closet. Most people would not be complaining about living in a room like this.

I'm not most people.

This room has hardly ever felt like my room.

If I had it my way, my room would look completely different. The walls would not be pink, but rather a sea blue. The walls would be covered in pictures I've taken of my happy family on vacations and my closet would be filled with my jeans, sweatshirts and comfy t-shirts.

But it's not.

My mom wouldn't let me change the colors of my walls, saying that pink was the appropriate color for my walls. My walls aren't covered in family pictures because we don't have any recent happy memories and the old ones hurt too much to think of.

And my closet...as long as I live here, my mother will never allow me to keep my clothing choices in my closet. If she had it her way, I would never be wearing anything other than dresses, pantsuits and skirts.

Sometimes, I try to reminisce of the good times, before everything happened and our family was ruined, but it hurts too much. Thinking back to the times when I considered Adam to be not just my brother, but also my best friend just brings me pain because I know we'll never be that close ever again.