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"moving?" i whispered.
my mom rolled her eyes and nodded.
"yes, betty. grab your things. we're leaving tomorrow morning."
i quickly bowed my head and walked silently to my room. i didn't question- i didn't argue.
grabbing my one suitcase from the corner of my room, i started with my dresser.
moving as much as we did, i stopped holding onto sentimental things. only my clothes, books, camera, and journal were left. others had been left in old apartments and houses.
the next year, i would be turning 18. then, no more moving. i would be free.
even though the reason we had to move was all my fault in the first place.
