Fatal Flaws

Chapter 1

The sound of my alarm clock ringing next to me causes me to jump. It doesn't feel like I have been asleep at all. Between the nightmares and my nerves about today, I'm a total disaster.

I can't believe I'm finally leaving this place. It still doesn't seem real. I've been here my whole life.

My family has never had the extra money for trips anywhere. I used to hate it when all my friends at school would come back from these beach vacations. All tan and full of stories with lots of pictures and memories. I lied a couple of times, even making up a whole family vacation to the Smoky Mountains one time. I doubt they believed me, though.

Between my brother Jason's ROTC, my sister April's cheerleading, and my court fines, we were always broke.

We always had enough to get by, but never any extra.

This town infested with gossip and plagued with depression is all I know. Everyone here wears some kind of mask, which they hide behind. Their secrets and lies stay hidden deep down inside. This helps them to act like they are perfect and to put on a performance. In reality, they are far from it. They are fast to judge me for my mistakes when they should be the ones looking in the mirror. Everyone has a past. Some are worse than others.

I force myself to crawl out from beneath the warmth of my blankets. Taking a moment to steal a glance over at my already-packed luggage. It hadn't taken me long to cram all my personal items into a few suitcases. My whole life has been reduced to three little bags.

At least they are new. Black leather with dark red embroidered stitching. My initials are hand sewn into each one. A gift from my Nana for getting accepted to college.

A wave of guilt washes over me. If she knew the truth, would she still be proud of me? The sudden twinge in my gut tells me she wouldn't.

The old worn-out floorboards creak underneath my weight as I stand up. I used to have every inch of this floor memorized. I knew exactly which floorboards creaked and moaned when stepped on. There are several loose boards that I had pried up and turned into my secret hiding spots over the years. You can tell which ones they are by their discoloration.

For years, I could sneak in and out undetected. Both of my parents were heavy sleepers. This helped to make it even easier for me. After my father passed away, my mother had a hard time coping. She would over-medicate herself with sleeping pills to get by. She spent most of the time napping in her room. Often sometimes being gone several days in a row.

Those days seem so long ago.

Since the day I was born, this has always been my room. I know every detail of every inch. One hundred and fifty-seven screws are holding up the ceiling tiles. I acquired this information one night when my insomnia was acting up. I had laid awake for hours that night, staring up at the ceiling. My mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts. Counting the screws had given me something else to focus on, to clear my mind.

Rooms are like people in certain ways. They can receive abuse and scars over the years as we do. Several deep gouges run along my back wall from where I shattered a mirror against it in a fit of rage. Over something so minor, I don't even remember what it was now.

This is the smallest room in the house, but it's mine. It's the only thing in my life that has ever stayed consistent. When Jason left for the army, he offered me his, but I declined. April was more than willing to take it. She traded in her princess pink room for his army green one. My mom, of course, redecorated it. Fresh paint, furniture, and an ugly purple furry rug. While I still have the same pale blue paint I chose when I was seven.

Change is not something that I handle well. Today is going to be a major struggle.

I have woken up every day for the past eighteen years staring at these same blue walls. With the same wooden floors and flower print curtains. Which I have always hated. I've never had the heart to tell my mom. It's not like she would care anyway. I'm the problem child. The one mistake she can't take back. I'm sure she would if she could.