CHAPTER ONE

You ever feel trapped? Not physically, but an emotional stunt in which you feel like all your emotions are swallowing you whole? As if you can't think straight because every feeling within you is crooked and inhabiting every cavern of your mind?

I'm staring at the ceiling while my mom, Sharon, is screaming at the top of her lungs. My ears hear her, but my mind can't. I'm just so overwhelmed with emotion at this point, with all these sensations I've never been able to control. Impulsive I may be, but what she's shouting at me--I am not.

I continue to ignore her, but what she says next catches my attention.

"I'm sending you to your father's."

"You're sending me to that asshole?" I sit up on my bed and stare at her in bewilderment.

"You're done. I've had enough," she moves to leave my room.

"You would really do that to me?" I yell back, not bothering to move off my bed.

"Frankly, I really don't care anymore!"

"Mom please, if you'll just listen to me," I leave my room and follow her this time. She's threatened me with this idea before; but there's something in her tone this time. A finality? The future seems unclear now, and I'm left with an uneasy sensation pooling in my gut. It's burning and sizzling like bile, leaving an acidic aftertaste in my mouth.

"I'm not interested, Riley. I already spoke with Jim last week. We both think this is for the best."

I move to stand in her way, but she shoves me to the side. I stare as she strides towards the living room.

"It's what I should have done a long time ago," she breathes out a sigh of relief. It's clear in her voice how happy she is.

"Why now?" I ask, grabbing her by the arm; but she yanks it back as if my touch burned her flesh.

"You're almost eighteen, Riley. You can't be fighting with your sister. But there are other reasons for this, you know there are," she sits down on the couch and shakes her head at me. I follow suit and lift my hand to place it over hers, but stop myself. Ever since I was young, I've never had close contact with others. She's never allowed herself to give me the slightest touch or display of affection. I've longed for it, so bad. I feel it right in the chest.

Yet she's so affectionate with my Shelby, my adorable and oh so sweet sister. It's one of the reasons we fight so much. This is what she's hinting at--the poor relationship I have with Shelby. I roll my eyes and look up at the many pictures of my her on the wall. There's none of me. Not one. I see a life of me absent, but so ever present in it. She's the reason I hate myself. She's the reason I can't look in a mirror without wanting to smash it.

My little sister.

I imagine my hands wrapped around her throat, and my breathing hitches. Mom notices my agitation, and quickly moves away from me. She plays indifference, but I know deep down that she's afraid of me. It's like a primal instinct, but I can literally feel her fear flowing off her in waves. I hear her gulp nervously before turning back to face me.

I turn around and ignore her, pretending to stare out the window. I see a crow dive down onto the white haven, landing effortlessly. It's beak quickly digs into the snow, looking for nourishment. The window turns blurry, but it's because tears are pooling in my eyes.

Nobody understands me. I never feel like I belong anywhere.

Maybe I should just end it.

"Pack your things. We'll be leaving in the morning. And don't bother your sister when she comes home," I hear her retreating footsteps and then the front door slams shut. When the car starts outside, I finally let the tears go.

I really have nobody.

...

"This is the best day of my life," Shelby shouts from the window above. I grab my suitcase and carry it to the car.

"Mine too," I yell back.

I shove my entire life into the back of the car and sigh. This is really happening. I sit in the front seat, waiting for mom to grab her purse. Once she's in the car, the silence is deafening. I keep waiting for her to stop and turn around, to tell me this was all some life lesson I needed to learn.

But this is not the case.

Arriving at the bus station, I grab my luggage and head inside. Sharon--let's face it, she isn't a genuine mother to me. She's never acted like one in my case. She says nothing and goes to the front desk to buy my ticket.

I stand in line, my amber eyes devoid of emotion. There's no way I'll show her just how much this is affecting me.

When she hands me my ticket she only nods and then leaves the building.

No goodbye, no "I love you, but I'm sorry."

Just, well, nothing.

I should be used to it by now, but it still chills me to the bone.

When my bus is called for departure, I grab my luggage and follow the crowd.