Thin Lines

Moving

Xela

Thankfully when I got home this morning neither Paul or my mom remembered what happened last night. Paul looked nicer during the day, but the bruise forming on my face reminds me not to be fooled.

It feels like a lot longer than thirty minutes of sitting in Paul's car that looks to be on the edge of falling apart until we finally stop at a small house in a little neighborhood. My Mom is actually sober today and as she moves boxes inside I find myself remembering how things were so long ago.

I didn't have much to move in at all, so I was done in no time. My personal items consisted of toiletries, emergency cash, barely any clothes, a photo of Aliza, Penny and I, and a photo of my mom, Dad, and I when I was eight. Of course my mom didn't know about this photo, if she did she would have never let me keep it.

A part of me hates my dad for leaving me with her, but I still love him. He's my dad, after all. I just wish he would have loved me enough to take me with him when he left.

My room is smaller than my old one, but has a nice little window above the bed. I even have my own bathroom, which is a luxury I already know I will not take for granted. The house itself is definitely cleaner than my old house, but I don't ignore the empty bottles scattered around downstairs.

I stuff my $100 in my mattress after deciding that is a good enough hiding place, then unzip my backpack to make sure my bear is still there. Mr Bear is a tiny stuffed animal my dad won for me at a carnival when I was really little. I've kept him with me all these years behind my mothers back.

I give Mr Bear a quick peck on the forehead before stuffing him behind my pillow until I go to sleep tonight.

I look to the alarm clock at the side of the bed and see that it is just after noon, so I have plenty of time to look around town today. Especially since I start school in two days, it will be good to know my way around.

I throw on Jean shorts and a black long sleeved top that is slightly cropped before applying makeup to hide the marks on my stomach, throat, and face. Once I am satisfied with my look, I decide last minute to braid my hair into French braids to remind me of Penny. I would always braid Penny's hair for her, she loved it.

My hair isn't dark like Aliza and Penny's though, it is almost a silvery white that Penny calls 'snow'. My moms hair is dark, so I must have got my hair color from my father.

I make my way downstairs and pass by my mom who is cooking something, which is odd since I've never seen her cook. "Where are you going?" She questions me when I walk past her. "Out." Is all I say, still pissed at her for last night, even if she doesn't remember it. My mom sighs and pulls a pizza from the oven before walking upstairs probably to change from her sauce stained shirt.

"You look like a slut." A make voice harshly speaks from the couch.

Paul.

He stands up and walks over to me but I don't step back this time, I need to let him know he doesn't scare me. "Do a spin for me." He says with a sick smile. I cross my arms and look at him, "I'm not a dog."

He shrugs and purposefully drops his keys, then looks at me like he expects me to pick them up. After sitting for a minute just looking at each other, I roll my eyes at his childish games and bend down to pick his keys up. When his eyes creep down my shirt is when I realize that was his intention all along.