Forgotten

Chapter 2

I’m still not used to looking at the bare walls of this room. My old room was covered in pictures of friends and family, posters were strewn all over the ceiling, and there were framed pictures of all the places I wanted to visit and inspiring quotes all over my walls. My walls were different hues of blue and I always felt cozy in there surrounded by all my trinkets and clothing. I was so materialistic.

Here, my walls were bare. They were so white that I felt like I was in a hospital whenever I lay down on my bed. There weren’t any memorabilia around my room either, the dresser and desk were clear except for maybe a book or a piece of paper. I just didn’t feel the need to bring over all of my makeup and jewelry that usually cluttered up the surfaces in my room. My closet wasn’t busting at the seams either, there were a few sweatshirts hanging up and a couple shirts and pairs of jeans were in my dresser. I just didn’t feel like unpacking all of my boxes.

My dresser was mostly empty, all of my clothes fit in the top two and I used one of them for shoes. The bottom three were as clean as when I first moved here.

It was more like I was staying at a hotel rather than my new “home”. My lip twisted into a grimace when that word popped in my mind. “Home”. I’ll never be home again.

I burrowed myself deeper into my bed letting my thin blankets wrap around me even more.

“Rina!” My uncle yelled at me from downstairs, probably from his La-Z-Boy that was parked in front of the television.

I unwillingly pulled myself away from my sanctuary and plastered on the fake smile that seems to always appear whenever I go in front of others.

“Yes, uncle?” I asked when I made it downstairs.

He looked back at me and gave me a toothy grin, “Want to go get some dinner? Somewhere nice?”

I couldn’t tell him that I want nothing to do with being in front of people, having to face their stares. “If that’s what you want to do.”

He got up from his chair and came to stand in front of me, “It is.” He pulled a silver Nordstrom’s box from behind his back and handed it to me, “This is for you, where it tonight.”

I opened my mouth to object but he stopped me, “Eh, eh, eh,” He said as if I was a puppy he was training, “These as well.” In his hands was a bright bag with light blue tissue paper coming out from the top.

I gave him a quick nod and headed back upstairs. “We’re leaving in an hour. I expect you to be ready.” He called after me.

When I entered my room I tossed the box and bag onto my bed and walked to my ensuite bathroom to turn on the shower. As I waited for the water to warm up I shed my clothes and grabbed a robe and some fresh towels for my shower.

The burning hot water hurt my skin, but I didn’t mind it. At least it was some sort of feeling. I’d rather feel the physical pain than the emotional pain. I pumped practically half of the bottle of conditioner of my hair and massaged it into my hair. When I was sure that all of my hair was covered in the conditioner I tied it in a bun on top of my head and began to wash my body.

The shower has always been my safe haven. The feeling of warm water against my cool skin is the only comforting thing that has stayed constant. I don’t feel different when I’m in it; I feel the way I did before this mess happened to me. My friends treat me different, well the ones that I continue talking to which is limited, and every day I just feel overcome with this darkness. The water washes away this shroud of fear I’ve been so accustomed to keep it wrapped around myself.

After I was sure my body was rid of any hair and I was as clean as I was going to get I let my hair out of its bun and began to comb my fingers through the tangles and separate my curls.