Don't Stop the Rain

Chapter One

[Author's Note: Dedicated to billysmile13! Hahaha. I hope you're happy. - Shan]

I watched my dad as he parked our old and rusty moss green van in front of a rustic looking house.

We moved here for two reasons: first, Mom and Dad sold our new house because Dad's company transferred him here. Second, I can't study in a place filled with stupid people.

So we moved here for good.

I hope.

I don't want to transfer to another house again, live around a new neighborhood, and most especially, step inside another different high school.

"This is it? " I said, stepping out of the van.

"Yeah, this is it Livvie. " Dad said, pulling a luggage from behind the car.

The two-story-house looks old enough for the spiders to make a whole town made of web inside. The roof was made from red bricks, partnered with a dirty white paint that made the house a century older. It almost reminds me of haunted houses in horror movies.

"Check out those kids, looks like they are the same age as you." Dad pointed at the kids skateboarding across the street.

I rolled my eyes, "Really Dad? I'm seventeen years old I can pick my own friends."

Dad's laugh roared and said jokingly, "Really Livvie? You can pick your friends?"

I'm not that friendly, so I guess that's why I'm always being bullied.

Again, I rolled my eyes but didn't reply to Dad's comment; because, as much as I hate to agree with him, I really suck at making friends.

I was about to walk in the house when Mom called me, "Olivia, can you please carry this box for me? " She asked.

I nodded; getting the box of antique plates she has as a collection.

This is the start of something good, sweetiel," she blurted out of nowhere, smiling.

I nodded almost to myself but didn't reply. Yeah. That's pretty easy to say, but is so damn hard to achieve.

I stepped inside the house, ignoring the pessimistic thoughts running in my head.

The house is not what I expected it would be. It's not even as creepy as I imagined. The ancient sliding doors and creaking wood floors match the wall's soft golden color.

The flat screen's already in the living room. Dad and some guy appeared behind me carrying the sofa.

I walked in the kitchen to put the box on the table, and then I wandered around.

There are three bedrooms; two at the second floor one at the attic.

I immediately dragged my suitcase upstairs and placed it at the attic. I need to have that room. It's pretty. The walls are painted with white, probably the most boring color in the world; but I like it, it looks really neat.

I collapsed on my naked bed, and sighed.

My old classmates told me I'm an introvert, and they think that it's a bad thing. But I love being an introvert. I love enjoying my coffee alone, watching movies alone, walking alone and, weirdly, talking to myself.

I find peace whenever I'm alone, I love having my own little world and stuff. But for other people, there is something wrong with it. Some even call me depressed. But heck, I'm not depressed. I just enjoy being by myself.