Chapter 1

I feel like I'm turning red. She is making me livid. My blood feels like it's on fire and is rising in my throat, Waiting to spew out if i open my mouth even slightly. This is one of the few things that is keeping me from saying anything in response. I breathe in a deep silent breath through my nose, trying to relax myself and get back to common ground. Careful not to make any sudden movements when i breathe, This would give her what she wants. I can't let her know she has hurt me by what she has said. I have become a pro at making myself seem unphased and calm in the midst of these types of situations. Level headed. But i still can't get my shaky insides to match my outside profile. I hope she doesn't notice this, after all she is at the wheel, Driving the car home. Paying attention to the road while her mind is somewhere else, Definitely thinking of all the times i have disappointed her, all the times she wishes i wasn't here. I am staring out the window now, Trying to focus on the simple things. Structures. Trees. Old buildings. I regain confidence at some point, I'm not sure if it's when we passed the large public library of the too tiny gas station, But somewhere in the middle of those two places i seemed to be able to regain my composure. Before my new found confidence had a chance to fade away i acted on it. "I never did that" i say. If i wasn't already convinced that i was right, i would have convinced even myself right then. My tone of voice was solid. Steady.

She doesn't look surprised that i have said something. In fact i think she was waiting for me to. This was expected. 'damn' i think to myself, 'Don't step into her trap'. But it's too late. This is what she wanted, or maybe what she dreaded. Either way i wait for her to say something. My words hanging in the stiff air, like a crushed house sticks out amidst all the pristine homes. The air is tense.

"You know what you did Katherine, Don't deny it. You never take responsibility for your actions. Why have you always been like that. You just place the blame on everyone around you so you don't have to deal with the weight of you own... " I interrupt her. Tired of what she had to say. " JUST STOP!", I yell. I need her to hear me. She has to hear me! Her face goes motionless and angry looking as the lines around her eyes go flat and straight. Her mouth is set. Jaw clenched. This is her angry face. Her, "god-why-do-we-always-have-to-fight" face. I feel like she just wants me to change and to become someone that i used to be. I'm supposed to put on the "younger me" clothes and walk around in them forever. Never take them off. Never start a new chapter. Yea, well those clothes are already worn out, too small. I have to change them. I have changed. I'm not the good girl anymore.

But boy, did she love that girl.

I am my own person now and i have my own life. 'IT'S MY LIFE!', i scream in my head. Ready to let the hot tears flow. I choke them back. I always do. I feel like she can hear my heart thump louder and louder in my chest. Panging against my insides. Trying to get out...Just like me.

"Don't talk to me like that!" she says in a firm voice. Finally she speaks.

But she can't drag me down this easy. She's trying to play the 'good-mother'. She only does this sometimes...On the days when shes not drinking. She's wasted about 27 days out of every month. Making my life living hell. She acts like she can just waltz back into my life and tell me how to live. Tell me what to do and when to do it. She can't.I won't let her.

I'm about to lose it when i notice we are pulling into the driveway. Thank goodness. I fly out of the car grabbing my book bag. I Power walk through the garage and burst through the door.

I tell my Nana, "Hi". That's it. No, "How was your day Nana?", Frankly i don't care. I'm marching, or rather running up two stairs at a time now. I open the door and let the cool air rush over me as i close my bedroom door. My room is too big though and isn't small like i used to have before we moved. It feels too spacious and roomy. Like the air in here is too much. I can't breathe. I open my blinds, hoping light will help calm me down.

It doesn't.

I walk over to my closet, Causing my feet to make imprints on my freshly vacuumed carpet.

I sit in the corner of my closet, Letting clothes fall over my head and brush past my face. Ruining my teased hair. But right now i don't care.

I let myself cry. Wet hot streams flowing down the hills of my cheekbones and rounding my jaw, drifting down to the middle of my boobs. By the time it reaches there it's cold. Weird feeling. I wipe it away. I squeeze my eyes shut causing the daylight i knew to vanish in a hole of darkness. The tears are coming faster and faster and i am gasping for air. There seems to be no oxygen. And now the spacious room is closing in on me and i wonder why i ever thought this room was big. I am reeling. My head is spinning and all i want is to be able to breathe.

Step out of my body. Crawl out of my skin.

But i can't do that and i still can't breathe. Somehow what seems like an hour later my tears begin to come slower and so i fall asleep in the corner of my closet to the steady trickle of my tears. Drip, drip, drip.

It has been like this ever since my brother, Matt, died.