Stolen From Superman-The Sequel To Waiting for Superman

Chapter 5- The Boxes

The light from the wall of windows wakes me up as soon as the sun rises. I really don't mind, because I have plenty to do today. I blink a few times, and then the full force of what has happened in the past twenty four hours hits me in the face. My parents are dead. I was in a coma. I shut my eyes, accepting the familiar weight of my emotions. It's just worse than usual right now. But it's something I'll have to handle. I can't just stop living my life because I'm on my own. Besides, even that's not true. I have Jordan. Still, it takes me a moment to force myself to sit up. I wish I could just stay wrapped up and asleep forever. It takes away some of the pain. But I can't. Life goes on, as stupid as ever. My muscles struggle to lift my weight. They simply won't function. They are incapable of it. And I hate it. I mean, I've never been extremely athletic, but this is just ridiculous. They are weaker and thinner than I have ever seen. I glance around the room, and my eyes fall on a pair of the crutches leaning on the wall by the bed. I guess that'll have to work. I lean over and grab them, and force myself to my feet, my face turning red with effort. Which is extremely annoying. It's hard, but I have to use my body if I want it to get stronger. Jordan knows that too. Hence the crutches and not a wheelchair. I pause for a moment, taking a breath. I manage to hobble awkwardly over to the door, where a small note says "Recording" I'll have to be quiet then.

As I make my way out to the main room, I can see the 3 boxes piled by the door, same place as last night. All of my stuff. Anything they got from my room. I'm glad to have it, sure. But everything in there is going to be painful. A reminder of home. A home I highly doubt I will ever see again.

It's difficult to lift the boxes and carry them to the couch. But I do, driven by the memories of my family. I owe it to them to do this on my own. My body will manage. I set the first on down, panting. By the second, my arms ache. By the third, they feel like they're about to fall off. But I don't care. I don't want to be disabled forever. And the only way to accomplish that is to ignore the pain.

I take off the packing tape slowly. Probably because I'm slightly afraid of what I will find in these boxes. It's all I have left of them. All I have from my old life. Everything's different now. I'm in LA and on my own as an adult. It's honestly quite terrifying.

The first box is just clothes. Sweatshirts, jeans, pajamas. I set them to one side, keeping them folded and in a neat stack. They smell like home. I can hear Jordan laughing from the recording room. I smile slightly at the sound and continue. It gives me the moral boost I need. The next box is full of toiletries and books, and other personal belongings. My laptop, my phone, posters, an old clock. Other decorations that were in my room. My old room. I swallow hard. I can see my room just by looking at the objects. It is etched in my memory as if I had seen it a few seconds ago. Not sure what I'll do with all of this stuff now. Nowhere to put it, as far as I know. But I know I can't linger on it. There's still another box.

The first thing I pull out is a stack of drawings and schoolwork from when I was little. An old valentine from my brother. A medal from the 6th grade science fair. My SAT scores. And a graduation diploma. I guess I was close enough for them. Even if I failed all of my finals I still would have graduated. Must have decided I earned it. Even if I might not even wake up to use it. I smile. At least I won't have to go back to high school. And I'd already been accepted into college. So I'll probably take the rest of the year off, and go back in the fall. I'll get a job, do something mindless for now. But the next document shows that is not necessary. A will, leaving everything to my brother and I. But I would assume he is gone too. I don't know for sure, but I refuse to believe he's alive. It would be too much of a letdown if he wasn't and I had let myself think he was. So it goes to me. And it's a lot. I cover my mouth, eyes wide. Life insurance, savings, everything. I really couldn't care less. It's not worth it at all. I'd rather have them alive than have the money. A tear rolls down my cheek and falls on the paper. But I keep going. A photo album. My brother and I's birth certificates. I wonder why his is in here. A faint spark of hope lights in my chest, because why would they bother if he was dead? But I suppress it, not wanting the hurt later. More legal documents come next. Everything I'll need as an adult. Some old pictures of long past relatives, and a picture from when I was 13. I hardly notice the tears falling from my eyes, absorbed in the memories. I reach the final object in the box. It's a relatively small, white envelope. My hands shake as I look at it. I know what must be in it. And I can barely bring myself to pick it up. But I do, knowing it will be better to release everything now. So I can move on. My fingers are numb as I remove the two pieces of paper inside. One labeled Ali, the other Percy, in my mom's cursive. I set his aside, because it wasn't meant for me to read. I take a deep breath and unfold the paper, shaking. Whatever is in here is the last thing they will ever say to me.

A/N: Gah the feels haven't even started yet;) I freaking cried so hard when I wrote the next chapter. Just picture your own parents saying it and I bet you will too. But that'll have to wait until next time :) Slap dat vote button if you enjoyed and drop a comment!

-Argo