Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
We're moving.
Those two words have echoed through my mind for the last three days, and they've kept me in a constant state of fear and trepidation. I don't know where we're going, and I don't know why, and the unknowns are driving me crazy.
Every time I ask questions my dad shuts me down. The one time I mistakenly asked in front of my mom? Well, I'm still healing from those bruises now.
I'd rather make myself sick with worry than take a round with her and her cane.
My dad has taken the last couple of days off work, and has spent it packing up the entire house on his own. My sister, Marie, and I have had to do our own bedrooms, but it's been easy enough on my end. I barely have enough things to fill one box, so it took very little time.
My mom is ill, and hasn't been able to help my dad with much, but that's for the best. She gets agitated very easily, and keeping her stress low helps avoid any additional problems. She picks fights, and my dad just takes her abuse, until she runs out of steam.
Or so he thinks.
She normally just then targets her painful words and cruel hands my way the moment he's gone.
I've offered numerous time to help my dad, but he's just wanted me out of the way. I don't blame him, especially since the reasoning for offering help was just out of selfishness. I've wanted to keep my mind busy so I don't need to focus on the panic.
We've lived in Illinois for my entire life—nearly sixteen years. I've gone to the same school with the same people, lived in the same house and nothing has ever really changed.
And yet, all of a sudden we're moving? It makes absolutely no sense to me, and I don't understand it. My dad isn't getting a new job, we're not moving for new treatments for my mom or to be closer to family.
There's no rational reason behind this decision and I hate it.
"Are you all done Sang?" my dad asks, pulling me from my thoughts. He's hovering in the doorway, only the tips of his shoes breaching the barrier into my room.
His dirty blonde hair is greying slightly, and looks unwashed. The grease makes it look wet, but I know it's just because he's had very little time to himself. He's lost more weight, again probably due to all the work keeping him busy, but he's still as tall as ever.
His blue eyes are identical to Marie's, and so different to my green ones that I don't seem to have gotten from my mom either. In fact, the only similarities I share with my dad is our hair colour, although mine is brighter now and lacks the greying.
"I want to get moving, Sang. Are you done?" my dad asks, sounding frustrated at having to ask again.
"Yes," I say quietly. "I just need—"
"Great. Be in the car in ten," he commands, walking towards my sister's bedroom where she instantly starts to shout at him for coming inside.
Like with me, he didn't step more than a toe inside, so I know she's just picking for fun. I don't know how she never gets into trouble for that kind of behaviour, but it's something that always makes me anxious.
