WARNING: It's a little violent.
Other wise, I think you'll really like this story and the twists it offers! Go read and enjoy! ;D
**Thank you to hopelessromantic1993 for the amazing banner!!
I grunted as I dropped the last box, labeled 'books', on the floor of my new bedroom. Sighing, I placed my hands on my hips. Well this was a...downgrade. I didn't want to sound selfish, but my previous house in Pennsylvania was slightly bigger than this. After my dad lost his job, we picked up everything and moved to Virginia where he found a job with lesser pay.
I scanned the smaller room. I could fit my queen sized bed, but it would take up a lot of room. Luckily, I had a decent sized closet so I would only need my dresser. This could work. I knew things were hard on my dad, and I wanted to make everything easy on him. I wouldn't complain.
My mom scampered up the stairs and stopped at my doorway. She pushed her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans and smiled, little wrinkles forming around her blue eyes. She flipped her red-brown hair over her shoulder. "So sweetie, do you like the new house? And what about your room? I know it's smaller than your last one." She glanced around. "A lot smaller. I'm sorry sweetie you know the money was tight and we had-"
I cut her off with a giggle. "Mom you're rambling again. Really it's fine. I like it. It's...cozy." I said, flashing a grin.
She nodded. "Good. I'm sure your father will be happy to hear it." After a short silence, my mother stepped away from the door, angling her body to the stairs. "Well, your father and I have the downstairs master bedroom, so lucky you, you get the whole upstairs to yourself!"
"Mom?" I said curling my lips inward.
I pointed to her very pregnant stomach. "I think you're forgetting someone."
"Ah, yes! Of course!" My mother smacked her head with the palm of her hand and rested her arms over her stomach. "But as of now, you have the whole upstairs to yourself. Who knows, We might just keep little Quincy downstairs with us!" My crazy mother tapped her stomach with her finger and snickered. "You'd like that, Quincy, wouldn't you? I know you love mommy." She paused for a few seconds. "You see, Alex? He kicked in agreement!"
With that, my mother rounded the corner and made her way downstairs. I laughed at the fact that she called the baby Quincy. It was a boy, but I knew my father would never have it named Quincy. He said that it seemed weak, and he hated Q names anyways. For what reason, I don't know. I personally thought that Q names were interesting and exotic.
After hanging up my clothes, and out of boredom, color-coding them, I made my way downstairs. My father was downstairs struggling with a few boxes. He threw them on the kitchen table that the movers had already brought in. Some dust sprung from the table and the boxes and my father coughed while waving it away with his hand.
"How do you like the house?" He asked, taking a deep breath. He clapped his hands together, relieving them of any leftover dust.
My mom smiled. "I love it! And so does Quincy!"