Fading

Every day for me seemed to be the same. Wake up, eat the occasional breakfast and then leave the house, heading off to school. It's the same schedule over and over, it just becomes tedious, mundane. Mechanical, if I may.

Being at school makes no difference. I'm the girl that no one knows. I'm pretty sure some my teachers don't even know that I'm in their class. If someone were to say Emilee Grace, people would think I was a girl that just transferred schools. Heck, I'm not sure if my parents even know they have a daughter any more. They are always so busy at work, it feels like their life revolves around it.

My parents work in the medical field, my father is a neurosurgeon and my mother is his surgical assistant. Yeah, they make great money, but to a daughter that couldn't care less about the money, they seem foreign, almost strangers.

It's peculiar how we can make decisions, even small ones that can change your life indefinitely. If I were to wear my black shirt instead of my blue one, could that be a life changing choice? One could say maybe, depending on the circumstances.

I get up off my bed after having my morning break down of my mundane life. I sigh taking in my dull, four white walled room. A black and white photo of a rose losing its petals, being the only outstanding piece. It's a bit too vanilla for me, but I'll be out of here in a few months. The closer it gets, the slower time seems to move. I plan to move to London after graduation, it was always Lana and I's dream.

Grabbing my phone of the night stand, I check the time, 6:55am. My eyes focus on the screen saver behind the time. Lana's lopsided grin, my toothy smile, our matching black bikinis. Has it been six months? It feels like the accident was yesterday. I take a deep breath to push away the pain.

I turn on some 80's rock music. School starts at 7:50am, and it only takes me 10 minutes to walk there. Since I have plenty of time I take a quick shower to wake myself for the day.

After about few minutes, I feel my body begin to function normally. I hop out and dry off with one of the white, designer, fluffy towel my mother is in love with. I twist my brown hair up in another one. Walking out of the bathroom and to my closet, I put on a pair of ripped jeans, socks, and opt for my black, Aerosmith t-shirt not the blue one. I grab Lana's faded gray sweatshirt, pulling it over my head, I'm assaulted with flashbacks. My heart jumps at the sudden rush of memories. I see the truck. The pit in my stomach growing larger. The sound of tires squealing, metal crunching and glass shattering fill my memory. A tear escapes as the haunting images fade away.

I take the towel off my head a ruffle dry my hair. I grab my eyeliner off my dresser and head back to the bathroom to finish my look. I stare at my reflection in disgust.  Dull green eyes, stare back. I brush my teeth and then finish up in the bathroom. Walking out, I grab my backpack off the floor and my phone off the nightstand. I continue my way downstairs to the kitchen.

Even though I have my socks on, I can feel the cold, hardwood floor draw the warmth out of my body. I'll have to turn the thermostat up when I get home. I plop two pieces of bread into the toaster, so I can have at least something for breakfast. Despite the fact that the kitchen isn't that big, it's still really nice. It's probably my favorite room of the house besides my own. The walls are covered in a light gray and the room is accentuated with light touches of violet. The counters are topped with a smooth black granite, I see mom's handwriting on a note beside the fridge. They won't be for dinner again, another surgery. I'm fine with it though, I'd rather be alone than to be drowned in their concern.

I turn my music off and place my phone into my back pocket so I won't forget it. The toaster pops as I grab a cold water out of the fridge and put it in my backpack. I grab my warm toast and head the door to slide on a pair of burgundy converse. I slip out of the front door and lock it behind me. The coldness makes my damp hair stiffen.