1 I

"Stella-Rose!"

My mother hollers my name as if I had done something out of the ordinary. Groaning, I wake from my sleep and fall out of bed.

Thump.

I hit the cold floor with a soft thud, which instantly wakes me up. I crawl up from under my duvet on the floor and take a look at my bed. My eyes shift from my duvet to my messy bedsheets. Rolling my eyes, I take my duvet from the floor and toss it on my bed before exiting the room to the bathroom.

"Stella-Rose!" My mother hollers once more, but this time I hear small steps making their way up the stairs.

I stay where I am in the bathroom and grab my toothbrush. I turn on the tap and let the water run, whilst I begin to scrub my pasty teeth into white pearls.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" Now she is at the tip of my bathroom door frame.

I shake my head as an answer to her previous question. She rolls her eyes and I continue brushing my teeth. I finish off with my teeth, making sure to gargle my mouth with Listerine before I rinse my face.

The water is still running and my mother is saying words I cannot quite catch. I look at my reflection in the mirror as I place both my hands into the cold water. I look at my fingers as the cold water dresses them. I begin to rinse my face, still peering at my reflection whilst doing so.

Turning off the tap water, I dry my face, then walk past my mother, and back into my room. I open a suitcase and pull out a hoodie and jeans, as well as my black Chucks. I begin to strip out of my nightwear and into the clothes I had picked out.

My mother is still stationed at the bathroom door.

"I still don't understand why I need to go," I broke my silence as I had finished getting ready. "I'm 17. I'm not a baby."

My mother sighs. "Come downstairs in 10 minutes. We need to go." With that, she exits the room.

I can hear her heels lightly click the ground as she gets farther from me.

I look around my once-was room. My bags are at the foot of my old dresser and my floor has been cleared from the mess it was to a white carpet I didn't know existed. My desk has been removed and my bookshelf has been cleared and now lays bare and cold.

I sigh a rather sad sigh and grab my bags. Walking to my door, I look back. This room holds so many memories.

After the passing of my father, we had moved here to find a new life. This was where I coped, alone. I finally closed the door to the room which held such small, but major memories.

I slowly walk down the stairs, dragging my bags behind me in a staggering motion. When I reach the first-floor landing, I notice the door is open. My mother walks into the house, grabbing her things, and walking back out. She does that a couple more times, as I just stand there with a blank face plastered.

She walks back in. "What's going on? Go put your bags in the car."

"Why can't you go on your own?" I ask. This is my last shot.

"Stella-Rose, you're acting like a child."

"Mama-"

"Now come on, Uncle Jerry is waiting. And so is General Jackson"

I sigh in aggravation. It is quite annoying, but funny how my mother quickly changes for a man. It has not even been up to a year since dad's death, but the moment General Jackson calls for us to return, my mother instantly gets up and starts packing.

I feel hurt toward my father. I would never move back to the place of his murder. But, my mother on the other hand was too shallow to realize the true secrets of Jacksonville.

It is nowhere near delightful. It is dark and filled with memories one would rather forget. Most of all, I know I do not belong in a place like that.

I take my bags and go outside towards my uncle's truck just like my mother had instructed me to. I layer my things in the remaining spaces of his trunk, but not all can fit in that cramped space, so I leave them with me on my seat.

Mama takes her seat in the passenger's seat as I finish up what I am doing. I assume she has checked the house once more. It will be difficult for her to leave it as well, I suppose. I cramp myself between my bags and suitcases. I'm uncomfortable, but what exactly can I say? I cannot complain.

"Stella-Rose," my uncle nods at me through the rear-view mirror.

I nod back as if to say "Hello uncle Jerry." I don't have much to say anyway.

I open one of my bags and pull out a novel of my liking.

A Walk To Remember.

The engine roars and the old truck comes to life. We begin to make our way down the narrow road on which our old house is located. I roll down my side of the windows. With my favorite novel in my hand and the daggered wind in my hair, I place in my earphones and close my eyes for a minute.

I open them back up and begin the classic from the beginning once more for about the 14th time this month. I fall into the story. Into the dream. Of which I wished was somewhat my reality rather than what I was being placed into. But alas, it was not. And will never be. I refuse to open my eyes. I cannot. I will not. Not until we get there.

I awaken at the engine burring to a stop, the car yanking me forward, causing my head to hit the passenger's seat. I am clearly wide awake at this point. Forced, rather.

I step out of the car to open the trunk. It takes a yank to get loose, due to the truck's age.

"Let me help you with that," my uncle offered and did as he attended.

Well, here I am. The small town of Jacksonville.