Willow

1 - The Move

My fingers tapped along my thigh as I stared out the window, a melody playing in my head. I could practically see the notes on the line, my hands itching to get the paper out and write them down before I lost them. I know they wouldn't be gone, not completely, but the tune would change every time I thought of it until I either wrote it down or perfected it.

Either way, I needed to do it soon.

I winced at the cold stare I felt from Janice, who sat at the front of the car with a driver actually steering the wheel. Janice was actually my mother, and for some reason, hated every bone within my body. Well, maybe not the ones in my fingers.

That was how I made us money after all.

The scenery around us quickly changed as we pulled into the neighborhood Janice moved us too, rich homes with empty families it seemed. My eyes wandered around, the fenced in yards huge before breaking off into yet another fenced in yard. It had to be ten or fifteen minutes before we finally got to the home Janice chose, a three story with a wrap around porch near the front.

I winced again as she stands up out of the car, her high pitched voice immediately shouting at the moving crew she had bringing our furniture inside. My eyes shoot to my newer model black Honda sitting in the drive way, before going back up to Janice.

Janice was beautiful, there was no doubt of that. Only thing was it was all completely fake, the thick lips and unwrinkled face, the blonde hair and tan skin. Her hair was naturally a dark brown I got from her, with dark murky eyes that never glistened anymore. My silver eyes I got from my father, something she constantly reminded me of.

"And you," I spun back to her as I got out from the car, my eyes having taken in the home next door to us. They were a good twenty to thirty feet from our large yard, putting them a good thirty yards from us. Meaning they'd never hear me scream.

"Go to the store tonight, after you unpack for both of us." I wince as I nod, my eyes flickering up to where I knew my room would be.

It sounds like I'm whining, like I'm a selfish brat, but I have the entire third floor, and I hate it. Almost the entire floor is surrounded by windows, which is actually something I love, but it's so open and empty. I know my piano sits up there, as well as the hundreds of trophy's and awards I've received over the years.

But it's empty.

I sigh as I begin trekking into the house, keeping my head down as I pass be movers. I can practically feel my moms eyes watching me, looking for the smallest indiscretion to use against me. The thing is, my mom has rules, a set of rules she's practically shoved down my throat my entire life.

Rule Number 2; Never speak to any men. Never look at any men. Never trust any men, they always leave.

I hurry inside, going upstairs to the floor that belongs to me. My eyes take in the huge open landscape, the black piano that sits right next to a window with pieces of paper stacked on top. Boxes line the wall next to the closet and the attached bathroom, my large bed in the center near the other side of the room.

I sigh, yet again, before moving to unpack all of my things. I wrinkled my nose at the dresses I pulled out, the suits and the fancy clothes I truly hated. Then came the clothes my mother hated, my jeans and t shirts. The sweaters and leggings.

And the lacy lingerie I liked to keep even though I never wore them.

I bit my lip before I moved onto my moms room, peeking around the corner to try and see whether she was there or not. When the coast was clear I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding, and moved quickly into her large bedroom.