Our New Home

Homecoming Part 1

February 2, 2012
Violets POV

     "Did you finish packing yet," my mother yelled from the other side of our small two bedroom home.

     "No." I softly replied.

     I keep replaying last nights events in my head. I keep wondering what an eleven year old like myself was supposed to do in that situation. Sure, call the police, then what? I'd probably still be blamed for what happened. Besides, what difference would there be if I did or didn't do something. Grandma is still dead, I couldn't stop that. She would've done it with me there or not anyway.

     I shoved a few more underwear and clothes into my duffle bag. Maybe I could've stopped her.

    I picked up my sneakers from under the bed and put them on. Maybe I should've called the police.

    I started to stare past my duffle bag, still sloppily sitting on the unswept floor with unfolded clothes thrown into it. Maybe it was my fault.

    BANG.

    Suddenly, my door flew open, hitting the wall stopper. I jumped then started to stare at the now vibrating metal door stopper while it made its wringing sounds to stop itself.

     "What's taking you so long!?" I looked up at my mom and she looked a mixture of frustrated and upset.

     "I was just thinking," I answered truthfully.

     She took a deep breathe and exhaled, pushed her long platinum blonde hair behind her ears, then sat down next to me with crossed legs. "I love you, Violet, but you need help, we both do. This will help both of us and before you know it, you'll be back home and things will be better. Hopefully."

     "I know mommy," I took a shaky breathe then continued, "I just feel bad. Do you think I'm crazy?"

     "What? No. You just don't see things the same as other kids. Listen, Vi baby. When I was your age, I was sort of like you. I was shy and introverted and never knew how to react to bad or unusual situations. When my grandma died, I didn't cry either. I didn't even want to go to the funeral, I just used find it awkward and hard to show emotion. I know you feel things about it and that's good. You just need to learn how to express those feelings correctly. Sending you to this Ericson place will help you deal with those feelings and give me some time to deal with mine and focus on work since you don't have anyone... to uh. Babysit you. Anymore."

     "I know, I'm sorry. I'm going to try to be better with my feelings," I looked at her, her eyes tearing up and trying to fight the first tear from dropping onto her pale freckled face. "I love you too, mom."

     I loaded my duffle bag into the trunk while my mom turned on the car to heat up. It was beautiful out, there was some snow sticking to the ground from last nights light flurries. The sun was shining brightly and there was very few clouds in sight. It was cold as fuck, but I kind of liked winter, it's better to freeze than to be sweaty all day.

     I jumped into the front seat of moms 2000 honda and buckled myself in. I really hope this Ericson school isn't as shitty as it sounds and that the other kids aren't as annoying as the kids from my middle school. Loud, obnoxious, drama filled, ugh. At least I'll be (hopefully) getting away from that mess. I glanced out the window and took one last look at my home before mom drove off and I wouldn't see it for months. I'll miss that tiny,  chipped blue paint house, I'll be home soon.

    The drive to the school seemed like to drag on forever. We have been driving for forty minutes and we're finally close to arriving. As we passed hundreds tall 20 feet high trees on the side of the route, I couldn't help but wonder if I'll even change like I'm supposed to. What could some random strangers do to change me? I swear if they just make me lay down in one of those therapy chairs and ask me "How does that make you feel" over and over and over again, I might have to run away and live in the woods until my mom comes back.