Seventeen-year-old Raven Thorne thought moving with her mother from her crowded hometown in California to a small, gloomy town in Washington called Forks would be a wonderful fresh start, and would help her move forward from her difficult past.
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Two days had passed since we moved to Forks, and it was going alright so far. My mother was taking a bit more time to adjust to the murky "ghostly" weather and atmosphere than I was, but it was still going well from my perspective.
I had moved in all my old furniture, room decor, and everything else I brought with me to Forks. I hung up all my old photos, artwork, and band posters on my wall. I placed my small vanity table in the corner of my room with a small chair to go with it, and of course, made room beside the vanity table for my beloved record player and favorite records to stay.
Music was a crucial part of my life, and it was incredibly therapeutic for me and never failed to help me escape the real world — even if it only helped temporarily.
My father also adored music, and we were always able to bond through that while he was alive. He even tried teaching me once how to play the guitar with his own guitar he was given by my grandfather when he was in his early twenties. However, I was in no way musically gifted like he was and could never learn. After he passed, his guitar stayed in the corner of my room, and once we moved to Forks, it sat in the corner of my new bedroom; never been played but was always taken care of.
It was Sunday, and I mainly spent most of my free time cleaning my new room, scrolling through Myspace on my old, worn-down laptop, and even listening to a few new records I had gotten for Christmas the month prior.
My mother was about done cleaning and furnishing her bedroom as well and was making it feel more like home to her. She didn't have to go into her new job until Wednesday, so she had a couple more days left to get settled in and make sure all the furniture and essentials were organized and in place in our new house. I did make sure to give her some help with some of the lifting and other tasks she needed assistance with around the house, but besides that, she said she could handle the rest.
I didn't start school until Tuesday, the eighteenth, so I had one more day of peace after today until I had to start at a whole new school, with unfamiliar people and nobody I knew. I wasn't as scared as you'd imagine a new student to be — but I was nowhere near ecstatic either.
Although I would miss not seeing the few faces that I was friends with back at my old school in Fresno — it only made it easier to forget and let go of Grayson.
As I hung up one of my favorite band posters on the wall above my bed, I briefly glanced out the window to look at the view. However, I suddenly noticed my mother standing outside at the end of our driveway, speaking with a man whom I didn't recognize. It made sense that I didn't recognize him — we were living in a completely new state after all — yet, I still wondered who he was.
Before I could go downstairs, I saw my mother smile and wave to the man before making her way back up to our house, and he did the same. I overheard my mother come through the front door, hearing the sound of it shutting before I then heard footsteps making their way toward the staircase that led upstairs.
