Whipped

Chapter 1

I moved to the portion of the wall that was to the right of the window. This was where my computer should've been-where I should've been sitting in my faux leather chair chatting with people on Facebook and blasting my favorite music. I looked up and saw a single hole from the French painting that belonged to my mother before she left it here, along with her broken marriage and her children. I shook my head to get rid of the thought. I wouldn't let her ruin my reminiscing. A small smile crept onto my face when I remembered the playful argument I had with Dominic, my brother. He was bothering me about how he wanted the painting. He didn't even know why he wanted it, but he was persistent in getting in. I was unrelenting in my refusal. Besides the fact that I liked the painting, giving it to him would have left an awkward blank space on the wall. I wasn't attached to the painting itself, I was attached to my sense of order. I took the time to fully decorate my room because I wanted it to feel lived in. I wanted it to be my sanctuary. He would need a damn good reason to disrupt that before I forked over the painting.

I finally made it to the last wall in my room-the wall that held my closet and my bookshelf. I remember putting together the shelf all by myself. It was really big so I had to put it together in the living room. I had Astroboy playing on Netflix while I worked. By the time the movie ended I was only half way through. I changed it to Pokémon 4Ever and continued working. I messed up on the shelf too. I accidentally put the back of the shelf on backwards. It didn't look too bad and you could barely notice after I put all my junk on it but I still knew that I messed up. I sighed. All these memories came from this house. I wasn't ready to leave. I knew that I wouldn't live here forever. Eventually I would graduate and move on with my life, but that's just it. I wasn't graduating. I wasn't leaving this part of my life to move onto something bigger and better. I was being sent away because my dad couldn't cope with the divorce, so I had to pay the price. I tried to think about my life ever since the divorce, but I was met with a slight headache and I couldn't quite get a hold of my feelings. I knew that the divorce cause me a lot of pain, but it was like I couldn't attribute that pain to any specific memory. I just pictured glimpses and flashes of my life over the past few years. Thinking harder just made my headache worse, so I decided to let it go for now.

Feeling thoroughly confused, I moved on to the bedroom beside mine to continue my traipse down memory lane. This room was all pink. It was kind of like the color of pepto bismol but more vivid. This used to be my room when the boys were still here. I walked over to the chalkboard painted onto the wall. I ran my hand over the place where my name stuck out. My dad originally put paper stencils on the wall and painted over it so my name would stand out. I guess he didn't know that you're supposed to take the stencil off or it would stick to the wall. We ended up having to paint over it but my name still stood out. Silly dad, stencils are for kids.

I stepped back and looked at all the various phrases and inside jokes written in colorful chalk. I let my friends come in here and personalize the chalkboard when they came over for my birthday party. I read over all the different messages they left. They had been there for years, but I never had the heart to erase them. I felt like I was erasing the memory that went with it. I jumped when I heard a knock on the door behind me. I turned and saw Dominic standing there.

"It's time to go. All of your things will be flown over, but we figured driving you there would give your new family time to prepare your room before you arrive. That way you feel at home from the get-go," He said. I could tell that he was avoiding the fact that there's no way I would feel at home when I was being dropped off with some family I don't know all the way across the country. "I'm really sorry, kiddo. I would take you if I could, but you know I can barely afford to take care of myself. I wish it didn't have to be this way..." Dominic trailed off, looking like there was more he wanted to say. It was like he decided it was best unsaid. This seemed to be happening to me a lot lately.

I walked over and gave him a big bear hug. He was the brother that I was always closest to and now we would be on complete opposite sides of the country. I couldn't blame him for my situation. "Situation" was the only way to describe it really. I had no idea what was happening to me-why this was happening to me-so I couldn't really put it into words any other way.

I let out a small laugh to hide the tears I could feel coming. "Message me on Facebook sometime buttface." He just laughed and nodded his head. I broke away from the hug and walked outside.

I climbed into the front seat of my Grace's Ford Escape and buckled my seatbelt. "Are you all set?" Grace asked me. I didn't bother replying. I just stared out the window at the house I'd be leaving behind. I was too bitter to speak to her. She was to blame for my move-her and my dad.

Deciding that getting me to speak was a wasted effort, she started to drive away. I couldn't keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes as I watched the house fade away. This was the last time I would see the one place I could ever truly call home. Goodbye Maryland. I put my electric blue headphones into my ears and pressed shuffle, settling into my seat to prepare for the long drive to California.