The Girl With The Missing Arm {on hold}

:01

"ARE YOU EXCITED about our new home?" My mother questions me trying to make small talk as she drives our new turd brown Honda Civic.

I don't respond and continue gazing out the passenger side window taking in the different change of scenery. Colorado is different than New York City. While New York City is ultimately flat with high rise buildings and skyscrapers shooting up from every available nook and cranny, and people of every background and color pouring out from everywhere, Colorado is mountainous and relatively quiet.

It's nice I guess. Not that I care. I stopped caring about everything a while ago. We could be moving to hell and I wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

My mother sighs deeply at my somber silence and works her slim skinny fingers over the worry lines located between her knitted eyebrows, lines that have become even more prominent recently.

"I'm trying here Noah. A new start isn't that what you wanted?"

No. You never asked me what I wanted. You never do.

I still don't respond. To escape the stifling silence, she  turns on the radio and flips through the stations. She finally settles on a r&b one.

A Marvin Gaye song comes on, and while she hums along to it she taps her delicate fingers against the steering wheel. I stare at her hands enviously. I should be able to drive too. I should be driving right now in my car with my friends, having fun and going to the movies, talking about all the cute boys in our grade and sharing the latest gossip.

I rub my hand over the stumpy flesh, where my right arm used to be. It should still be there. Elbow, hands, fingers and all. It's hard to believe that only three months ago I still had both my arms and my life was seemingly perfect.

Its hard to believe that I used to be beautiful, popular, funny, smart, loved, and admired. I used to play the flute in the school band. I used to drive. I used to laugh and hang out with my friends. And then the accident happened.

The accident that would end up changing my life forever. Now I can't even open a jar of peanut butter without assistance.

After the accident I was never the same.

When we enter a neighborhood I know we're close to our new home. Normal people would feel excited, anxious or maybe even angry about being uprooted to somewhere across the country from a home that they've known all their lives but I don't. I feel numb. Void of emotion. I could care less.

Sometimes I find it even difficult to breath. Everything seems like an effort.

My mom stops in front of a small diplidated two story house. It's in much need of a paint job but it has that vintage charm to it that comes along with older homes.

"We're here." My mother declares enthusiastically with a smile, but its seems forced.

I wait till she gets out the car and then slowly get out too.

"Are you ready for the beginning of your new life?" My mother asks me as she turns the key in the lock.

I know she's waiting for a response. I know she's trying. I know it wasn't her fault, but I still can't help but resent her for some strange reason.

She sighs and looks at me tears starting to form in her tired eyes. "Please just try. If not for you, for me. Please?"

Why try for you?

You didn't loose an arm.

Just to get her off my case I give her a tight lipped smile. "Okay."

She smiles back. It's still forced. She can tell I'm lying.

The door opens with a creak and we step inside. She turns on the light and we survey the house. Everything is wooden from the floors to the walls. I cringe when I think of what might happen if we have termites. There's already boxes of our stuff in the new house, from the moving trucks transporting it here last week.

"It's late. Why don't you just go to bed and we'll sort this stuff later. Your bed is already in your room. Does that sound good?"

I nod my head and make my way up the creaky steps.

"Your room is the one right next to the bathroom!" She yells after me.

I open my room door and turn on the light. It's relatively small but so is this house. The walls are painted a light grey and the wooden floor is scratched. The only unique feature is the window seat.

I walk out my room and go into the restroom pulling out my toothbrush and tooth paste from my carry on bag. As I brush my teeth I survey myself in the mirror. Pretty brown skin, light smattering of freckles across my nose, wavy long hair and light brown eyes greet me. I know I'm beautiful, well was beautiful. I was well aware that guys liked me and girls envied me. I used to love the way I looked, I took pride in myself, and to be honest maybe I was a little too vain. Maybe god's punishing me for that now.

After I brush my teeth I climb into bed trying to not to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow I start school. Tomorrow I'll be greeted by the stares and prying eyes and the dreaded questions by obnoxious people.

Tomorrow is another day to feel numb.