"Hey guys. So this is my third book. I just finished two books of a series. You should check them out! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and I will be updating as much as possible.
(Edited)
"Get your stuff packed, were leaving," he said with no emotion while eating his breakfast.
"Yes, sir," I replied bluntly.
I waited by the doorway to the kitchen until he was done before taking his plate and washing it in the sink.
"No, let me wash it, you go pack your stuff," my father, James, told me.
I searched his eyes for anything at all to tell me that this was a trick.
All I came up with was pity.
"Abigail, go pack your things and wait out in the truck. I'll be out there in a few."
"Yes, si-" I was cut off by his voice.
"You don't have to call me sir! I'm your father for christ's sake!" He exclaimed while my brows furrowed.
I simply nodded my head before slowly turning around before quickly walking to the stairs that led to my room and a spare bedroom.
We obviously never used the spare besides the times that my father came home with his friends. They would crash in there.
It was a nice house. If we didn't always have to move so much, I could see myself living here.
The outside had a large yard and a cement driveway, perfect for skateboarding. The house was a dark green with white window frames and door.
My father's room was on the bottom floor, and came with a built in bathroom. He got the large bed with unique and expensive dressers.
Once you walked through the door of the house, there was the living room off to the right and the door that led to the kitchen on the left.
If you walk forward, down the hallway there was a bathroom on the left then stairs leading up to my room.
I walked up each step, admiring the beauty of the home.
Once at the top, I opened the door on the right and walked into my bedroom, picking up my bags and gathering up the stuff I had taken out.
Once packed, I headed downstairs and out the front door.
I pulled the purple bag up more on my shoulder so it wouldn't fall before jogging over to my father's red, rusty, old, pick-up truck.
As soon as my bags were in the truck, I took my seat in the passenger side and awaited my fathers arrival.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear him get into the vehicle.
He had a worried expression plastered clearly on his face as he backed out of the driveway.
Wherever were headed... it can't be good.