Gone in the Morning

Chapter 1: Corn Everywhere

The only thing I was looking forward to was getting out of this moving van. By the looks of the grass, barns, and a vacant house we had passed, I was already under a bad impression with the country life. I remembered Leslie-my best friend had told me how bored he was when he lived in the south. I loved the city life, but now, I had no say in where we would move to. I was furious about this. I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to my friends. We left the day after my mother had told me the news. It wasn't fair. I should have been able to say goodbye.

"Where are the schools?" I asked, staring at the tall corn stalks we were passing. Corn. Corn everywhere. Sand. Sand. Sand. No real road.

"I hear there's one twenty minutes away. You're going to go by bus," my mother replied.

"What was it called again, Gwen?" My father asked.

"Raggedy Rane's Middle School," she said.

The both of them laughed like it was the funniest joke ever. I almost wanted to tell them that they could stop joking and tell me the real name of the school. However, it wasn't a joke. That was the name of the school. This felt so unreal. My heart was heavy, and I felt super guilty for not being able to say goodbye to anyone.

Things only got worse when Kane slowed down, and I saw the house. There was nothing special or beautiful about this place. The house was planked with wood on top of wood, leaving big enough spaces for bugs and the cold wind to fly through. The door and windows were broken and needed fixing. From the outside, the house appeared to have no more than two or three rooms. The stairs leading up to the door were made of broken bricks that were never plastered onto one another. The trees stood poorly, swaying in the wind as if they didn't want to stand any longer.

"No wonder we got a good deal on this place," Kane nodded like he was proud. "Needs some love. That's all."

I tapped against the window, thinking about my friends and feeling as if my life was ruined. I wanted to cry. Our house in the city was decent. It was beautiful. It was welcoming. This house was not welcoming. In fact, if I had to describe this in a horror story, I would say the house stood there as if it was ready to devour its next owners.

"So this is it, Kane?" My mother practically signed when she asked.

There were no more smiles when he parked the car on the grass. Kane cut the car off and shook his head. "This is it," he nodded. "Let's get this stuff inside before rain pours down on us. Those thick clouds look like they want to bust right now."

He was right. The sky was sad and looked like it wanted to burst into tears. Little mice ran past the porch to hide for shelter. I heard thunder in the distance.

By the time I got out of the car, little drops of rain slowly began to fall. I grabbed some boxes out of the moving van and started putting them on the porch. When I finished mine, I started grabbing the tinier boxes, which had belonged to my sister. Kane snuck up behind me when he saw me stop in my tracks.

"Try to take it inside without your mother seeing it," he had told me. "I don't want her having another fit."

I quickly did what I was told, grabbing the light cardboard box full of pictures of Claire and her old toys. I bit my lip, trying not to have a panic attack. It's true what they say about death. You don't get used to it, you just learn to live with it. Nearly a year ago my five-year-old sister was kidnapped from her school, then later found dead in an old abandoned building that was notorious for urban explorers to visit. After that, mother stopped working, dad got into drugs, and everyone stopped caring about little old Dante. Me. 

It was my fault. I told her to walk home ahead of me while I talked to friends. She ran all the way home-that's what I thought.

I went into a bad state when she passed. I became numb and taught myself to do all I can to think less about her. As selfish as it sounded, I hated thinking about her. Too many memories. Too many images pop into my head. I was the one who begged dad to pack up Claire's things. Every time I had passed her room or saw anything that belonged to her, I would break down. Now, here I was again, holding a little piece of Claire in a box. A box so light, yet so heavy.

Dad hurried and put the key in the door, but before that, he looked at me. "Maybe things will change here," he said then opened the door.

I doubted that. Yeah, we were here because both of them decided to turn to drugs and drinks after we lost Claire. Now, we were broke and had to settle with some broke down place with almost no one nearby...