Chapter 2: New Home

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The tress around me passed by in a blur along with the road signs.  I was resting my chin on the car door looking out the window disinterested.  Sure my family was dumping me in an unfamiliar place hoping I'd get help, but I wasn't all that interested.  I saw more interesting things in my stay at the hospital than an average person would see in their lifetime.

Of course I wanted to know the name of the place I was going to be living at, but I don't feel like trying to figure t out.  I don't have enough energy for that.  Then again, I don't have much energy to do anything anymore.  I've been put on this medicine by me neurologist for reasons I don't remember, but the only change in me is how little motivation I have to do anything.  I was already unmotivated for pretty much everything I was supposed to do.  So I guess nothing really changed.

I whip my head around to look at my mom with a glare as she held my earbud in her hand.  She had yanked it out of my ear, hard.  Her gaze was soft, and her eyes look tired.  My own face softened as I took in her haggard appearance in and sighed.  I lowered my head to look at my hands folded in my lap.  The sight of my deformed hand suddenly disgusted me, so I covered my eyes with my good hand.

"Fallen," my mom begins, "talk to me sweetie."  I look over at her again and notice the grip she as on her steering wheel; her knuckles were white.

"I don't want to talk right now Momma," I mumble out, "Besides, I think you should relax a bit."

"And what makes you think I'm not relaxed?" she asks in a shrill voice.  I give her a pointed look; she had just proven my point.  She looks away from me and back to the road shaking her hand.

"Well for one thing, the fact that your voice got all weird just now shows you seem stressed, and your knuckles are white.  If you're not stressed out, then I don't know what to call that," I tell her crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back into the chair.  My eyelids feel heavy, and I yearn to close them.  But I won't.  I'm going to pay attention to my surroundings and try to find my way home later.

"Okay so what if I'm stressed out?  The whole family's stressed out including you!" she shouts before breathing in deeply.  "It's been a stressful few months trying to renovate the new house to accommodate your sister's disability and figuring out a way to pay for her treatment and yours."

"I get that, but imagine how I feel with the guilt of damaging my sister's life!  She'll never be the same again, and it's all my fault.  Not only that, but I've been having anxiety now that you guys have taken any semblance of fire away from me.  What happened to my psychologist saying baby steps should be taken?"  My neck had turned into a tomato, and my face was flushed.   could feel my anger boiling inside of me, but I suppress it down as best as I can.  I shouldn't be working myself up over this.

"And?  You see how well that worked out for you, huh?  I told your father that we shouldn't have listened to the psychologist, but he convinced me saying we should follow the professional's advice.  I bet things would be different if I followed my gut," she fires back.  Her right eye had begun to twitch, and her nostrils were flared.

I turned myself in my seat to look at her.  "Did you ever stop to think that all of this could be your fault?  Or Dad's?  What if I'm like this because of the genes I got from the two of you or your parenting styles.  Has that thought crossed your mind?  Even once?" I lower my voice to a whisper, "I bet you haven't.  You don't want to blame yourself."

"That's it!" she yells and pulls over on the side of the road.  She gets out of the car and walks around the front over to my side and flings open the car door.  "Get out."

"What?  Why?" I move away from her, pressing into the console.

"Either you get out yourself, or I'll pull you out.  It's your choice."  She has her hands on her hips and looks serious, which is quite hard for a woman of 5'1 to do.

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