The Prophecy

Chapter 1

I can’t get to sleep. I roll over and adjust my purple blanket. I stifle a yawn, and glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 2:00 AM. Tonight is my last night in this house. In my room. Tomorrow I start a new life.

Mom thinks this move will be good for us. It might be for her, but not for me. The last thing I want to do is start all over somewhere else. I’ve lived in the same house, on the same street, in the same town, since I was born. I’ve had the same best friend since 3rd grade. I know my mom has been through a really tough time these last few months. When my dad died last winter in a horrific car crash, our life completely fell apart. So I’ve been through some hard stuff. I’m used to drastic change. But not this. I don’t want to be torn away from the one thing left in my life that makes sense. My dad built this house. Our house. I don’t want to leave it behind. It’s almost like having a piece of my dad, and I don’t know what I’ll do without it. It’s the exact opposite for Mom. Living here just brings back memories of Dad, and while it helps me cope, I know it’s like ripping open a wound over and over for her.

            I know I’m 16, and should be strong enough not to cry. But as I look at the cardboard boxes piled haphazardly next to my door, the tears slowly slide down my face, and drip onto my pillow. I look around at the walls, stripped of all my posters and pictures, the empty corner where my desk usually sits, and my closet, empty and almost scary looking without my clothes tossed all over the place. I bury my face in my pillow, pull the blanket up around my shoulders, and then I slowly cry myself to sleep.

***

            I wake up to the sound of something being drug across my floor. I open my eyes, and slowly sit up. I push back my hair, and rub my eyes. My mom, dressed in plain jeans and a t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, is trying to lug a few of my boxes out the door and downstairs.

            “What are you doing?” I ask, throwing back the blankets and swinging my legs over the side of my bed.

            “Jaylin, are you kidding me?! You should have had this stuff downstairs last night. The moving truck will be here any minute, we don’t have time for this,” Mom snaps, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ears and leaning down to pick up a box.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it’d be this big a deal,” I reply, but Mom’s already on her way out, ignoring me as usual.

            I sigh, and reach down to pull a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt out of my duffle bag. I get dressed, grab my brush, and head to the bathroom to fix my hair.

            I close the door behind me, and take in my reflection in the mirror that hangs above the sink. My dark blonde hair is tangled, and my blue eyes look sad and empty. I have an oval shaped face, with a nose that’s a little too big and a full mouth. I’m average height, and skinny. I could probably pass for a 12 year old even though I’m 16. I know I look young for my age.  I pull my hair up into a messy bun, and brush my teeth. I zip up my sweatshirt, and head back to my room to start bringing down boxes. The house already seems lonely, and we haven’t even left yet.

            By the time I get everything downstairs, the moving trucks already arrived and the driver is helping my mom load everything into the back. I notice Mom’s leaving behind Dad’s favorite leather arm chair. It’s dark brown leather is worn, and it still faintly smells like him. I sit down, and wrap my arms around myself. I bury my face in the leather. I miss him so badly it feels like a giant hole has been punched through my chest.

            I hear Mom coming up the porch steps, and quickly stand up. “Kaitlyn’s here to see you,” she says, opening the door.

            Kaitlyn. My all-time best friend. The one who’s never left my side. She’s always been there for me. When Dad died, she came over every day for a month just to make sure I was ok. We did everything together. I would miss her so much.