Seventeen year old Rylee Brown's life is flipped upside down when she loses her mother only to be shipped off to a man she hasn't seen in almost a decade. Moving in with her father and his perfect wife and perfect children is the last thing she want...
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Twenty-eight days. Twenty-eight days since I last heard her faint voice. Twenty-eight days since I last felt her soothing touch. Twenty-eight days since my world went black. Twenty-eight days of sitting in this house, surrounded by the ghost of her.
I grab the extra pillow that laid beside my head, smothering my face in complete agony. I groan into the pillow, desperately wishing I was still asleep and the last twenty-eight days was all a dream. This is the part that I dread every day. The part of having to wake up and face the truth that now surrounds me. Everyday is another day without her.
I sit up, running my hands up and down my face in hopes of waking myself up. It takes me a minute to gather the will to actually get out of my bed. I used to be a fan of mornings but nowadays, I can hardly pull myself together to get out of bed. All I want to do is lose myself in this room–this bed. I want to hide under my covers and escape the harsh reality that resides outside my bedroom door.
The cold wooden floors send a fury of chills up my body causing a slight shiver reaction. I pick up a random hoodie that laid on my floor, smelling it before throwing it on. If it smells fine, it's worth wearing.
I walk down the hall, averting my eyes from the memories that hang on the walls. Looking at the photos will only remind me of the sad truth that my mother is gone. It's a truth that I can't seem to let sink in just yet.
Mornings are not the same around this house nowadays. A house that felt like home no longer fills me with warmth and comfort. It only brings me pain and sorrow. All that fills this house is silence, echos of the happiness that was once here. I will never get used to the emptiness that lingers in this house. The emptiness taunts me as if it's waiting for me to break at its will. I can't allow that. I wont allow that.
The smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee is all it takes to send my body rolling in excitement. I'm black coffee kind of girl. I like it plain and simple, nothing fancy.
I turn around to sit at the round wooden table centered in the kitchen, only to see my Aunt Jenna leaning against the counter holding a coffee mug. Her cross over of light brown and blonde hair is pulled out of her face into a high ponytail, letting her dark green eyes shine. A few light freckles are scattered under her eyes and over her nose. Despite being my mother's younger sister, I have never addressed her by Aunt Jenna. She's always been just plain Jenna to me. Growing up, it was like having an older sister considering there is only a seven-year age difference between us.
I ignore her presence as I take a seat at the table, knowing she's watching my every move, "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?" I take a sip of my coffee, "I don't need a babysitter, Jennie. I'm fine."
