To Build a Home

Chapter 1

"Sweetheart, wake up. We're here."

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to register my surroundings while still being half asleep. My mothers soft voice was strange to hear. Usually, I was being woken up by an alarm clock for school. But now, it was five-something in the evening, and I was in another country.

How fan-fucking-tastic.

I let out a small groan, lifting my head from its awkward position on the window.

So much for thinking of what to say during the car ride. How am I supposed to get through interacting with a bunch of—

Oh.

I guess I should probably explain what's going on.

Hello, my name is Lutum. I prefer being called Lu though.

I'm eighteen years old. I have wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes. I'm 5'8. My wardrobe consists of hoodies, tshirts, baggy jeans, and the same pair of Vans that I've had for 3 years. High tops, of course. Overall, I'm pretty basic looking. And that's how I've lived.

Don't look different.

Don't act different.

Don't speak differently.

Don't stick out.

If you fade into the background, nothing can go wrong.

I've maintained that sentiment for 18 years. It worked perfectly. Practically nothing damaged my quality of life.

Well, four months into that 18, I ended up here. In this car. In front of a damn mental institution.

So funny. Har. Har. Har.

Well, the pamphlet called it a "group home" for "troubled young men." But we all know what that means.

And no, before anyone asks, I am definitely not mentally ill. I am positive I am not "troubled." I am normal. Thats literally my whole thing. But my parents seem to think... well, yeah. You get it.

"Lu, sweetie? I said we're here," my mother repeated, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Mmphurgh."

She sighed. I could practically see her squeezing her eyes shut in frustration, despite the seat separating us. I know her so well.

Hell, I know my whole life so well! Which is exactly why I don't need to be here. This is all one big overreaction!

I heard my mother unbuckle her seatbelt, and shut my eyes again. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, she'll drive back home and we can pretend this never happened.

Wait. That's another thing I don't get. Why did we drive from Connecticut to Toronto. We could've flown. Frankly, I think my mothers the one who should be dropped off here. Who the hell drives that far when we've developed this much! Planes exist, let's utilize them. Please!

"Lutum, focus please. I promised you would be checked in by five o'clock sharp. It's almost four forty and—"

I let out a groan , re-opening my eyes and peering at my mom. She'd opened my door and was standing with my luggage, glaring at me impatiently.

I unbuckled, dragging myself out of my seat and blinking at the harsh sunlight. "Couldnt we have chosen a place in like London or something? Where there isn't a massive cloud of helium flashbanging me everyday? Ooo or better, yet we just go back home!" I bat my eyes at my mother, smiling pleadingly.

She just shakes her head at me. "Dear, you have to do this. It's for your own good." She begins to walk towards the door, but pauses and turns back to me. "You're 18 now, an adult. After the three month mandatory trial period, you can submit an opt out form and leave this residence. Until then, you are legally expected to stay. This is an intervention, remember?"