Ghost Girl II

Vacation

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"My mind turns back to Cass in the silence. What kinda psycho cult is raising their kids to kill? And what part do I have in it?"

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I grab two shirts and their hangers off a rack in my closet and gaze over them, contemplating which I should pack: the white workout shirt or the black blouse. I decide on the white shirt in my head and put the other shirt back on the rack. I walk out of the closet and place the chosen shirt on my bed on top of all the other clothes I've picked out. My large black suit case is open on my bed as well, patiently waiting for me to pack my clothes. I walk back into my closet and continue picking clothing for the trip. I need a months worth of clothing, so half my closet will end up making its way into my suitcase. 

After finally picking out all my clothes, I begin to fold them neatly, one by one, and place them into my suitcase. A pile of hangers slowly accumulates as I grow closer to finishing my packing. Its taken me almost two hours to get everything packed, including shoes and toiletries. I've never had to really pack before. I always kept my possessions to a minimum, and I never having more than a couple shirts and personal items. They could all easily fit into my backpack.

I finish my packing and zip up my suitcase. I grab a charger, my laptop, a few other items, and place them in my brown leather bag. I set the bag next to the suitcase. I let our a breath of victory and revel in my accomplishment. Its short lived though. I almost forgot I have to change into presentable clothes for my mother. I look down at my pajama pants and wrinkled shirt and begin to panic.

I scramble to my closet and begin tearing through my leftover clothes in an attempt to find something to wear. I wildly grasp at shirts and pants, taking short, raspy breaths as I do. I hear my door creak open and I step out of closet to see Thomas standing at the door.

"How's it going?" he asks me. His eyes land on the packed bags. He takes a couple of steps into the room. "Looks like your all packed," he observes.

I grip the doorway to my closet. "Yep. I still have to get dressed though." Thomas looks up at my frantic state.

"You alright Karsyn?" he asks. His worry shows in his brows. I take a deep breath to calm myself and nod as an answer to his question. I can tell by his eyes that he doesn't buy it, but he doesn't push the subject. "Well I'm gonna make some breakfast," he tells me. He moves to my bed and grabs the suitcase. He puts my bag on his shoulder and he begins to walk out the door. Before he's out, he turns his head to me and says, "Don't stress too much Karsyn. You've got your friends with you and they love you a lot." With that he turns again and walk out the door.

His words are surprisingly comforting, and when I enter the closet again I'm calm and collected unlike before.  I pick out an outfit and carefully put every article of clothing on. I step in front of the mirror and gaze at the outfit on my body. A pair of tan colored shorts rest on hips with a black belt. A loose long sleeve shirt hangs on my upper body. The white color matches my white sneakers and compliments my blonde roots. I take one last look then I move away from the mirror and head down stairs. I already showered and brushed my hair earlier in the morning. All thats left to do is eat and meet everyone at the park.