"This is where you're going to be staying, Saddie." My grandmother was more than excited to have me reside in her guest bedroom in her small appartment in New York. Although she is 65, I still feel as if I am required to take care of her. Her and granddaddy haven't done anything but be my saving grace ever since the accident.
"Thank you, Grandma." I took the neatly foldded bright pink bed sheets from her fragile hands. She reminded me so much of my mother. Her pale blue eyes. Her high cheek bones. Her smile. Everything. Just looking at my grandmother sent me back to that day five years ago, when it happened. I shake off every memory that comes back to me from time to time.
"Dinner is in ten minutes, Darling." She took hold of my hands, "I'm so sorry about what your father did to you, Sade. A sweet girl like you shouldn't have to go through everything you've survived. Everthings going to be alright now, Sweetie. Momma's watching over you.". As I look into my grandmothers eyes, I feel her sincerity. For five years Grandma had been silenced about Momma's death. Grandma turned around and steadily walked out the door, into the hall way.
I spun around to look at my new room. This room used to be my mothers. I felt my eyes slowly watering as I began making my bed. My bed was under a large window that overlooked an endless New York alley. The walls of my new room were painted Baby Blue and chipping near the corners, but I loved them anyway. I touched the walls with both of my hands and felt the smooth paint on my fingertips. This was were I was going to be living for the next four years, lovely.
Later, at the dinner table, my Gradfather spoke up. "You know dear, You don't know anyone around here. Your first day tomorrow is going to be Hell for you unless you make an effort to actually talk to Samantha, you two are just alike." Samantha is my one of my Grandparents' friends daughters, who is going to be starting Lawrence Hugh High as a sophomore tomorrow. Just like me. Ever since I met her when I first visited, she has been texting and calling my phone. And Ganddaddy is correct, we are alike. Samantha has brown hair, she's a cheerleader, and makes good grades. Although we could never be friends, last year we would've been. Not now.
"Grandaddy, C'mon..." I stuttered. I stutter when I'm nervous. "I don't want to be friends with her, you guys do not know her." Grandma had a disappointed look in her eyes and began to clean up. They didn't understand, this girl was not a girl they'd want me to be influenced by. My Grandparents are naive and could not see past her glistening smile. Sure they knew all the "good girl" things about her, but did they know she bought drugs on the street corners? Did they know she lost her virginity at age twelve? Did they know about the parties she hosted when her parents were out? Parties that screamed drugs, underage drinking, and sex? No, probably not. I knew these types of girls. I was one, back in Alabama.
It's not like someone you just met would tell you all of this. No, that's not what happened. I had walked into her room when I came to visit my Grandparents for the Holidays, and they took me over there. I found her diary on her bed, and I snatched it and carefully placed it in my bag. Not only did I read the dairy, I analyzed every page, connected thoroughly with every secret she spilled. This girl was bad news and reminded me of myself, before I changed. I decided to change when I moved up here. When my Daddy caught me in bed with that boy and kicked me out of the house, the house my Momma had bought when Daddy couldn't afford it.
I have never wanted to talk to someone as much as I wanted to talk to Samantha. Everything about her seemed to pull at my hair, but I promised myself I was going to change. I walked into the living room. "Good night you guys, I love you. I Guess I'll see you two when I get home from school tomorrow." My Grandparents both worked early in the morning.
"Good night sweet love. Say your prayers." Everytime I spoke to them guilt stung my body. They didn't know me.
I started doing drugs when I was thirteen. It was all that seemed to make me happy. It helped me forget. When I was ten years old, my mother was hit by a drunk driver. She was killed instantly at the scene of the accident. The guy that had hit her was Robbie Willson, a junior at my old high school. We were good friends before it happened, I couldn't look at him afterwards. My Daddy sprung into a deep deppression. Although he had always been a drinker before, it got worse. Daddy began drinking beer like water. It was like his oxygen. He was never at home, that's mostly when everything would take place. I'd have a few friends over and the doing of drugs would all take place right there, I don't believe he ever cared.
That is untill the day of my fifteenth birthday. I had my boyfriend of six months, Zack Taylor over to watch a movie. My dad was out again, and he had forgotten my birthday. Zack and I had been in my room laying in my bed when things started to heat up when my dad walked in. He Chased Zack while threatening to kill him down our entire street. When he came back home and into my room, his belt was already weilded. It wasn't long after that my Daddy sent me up here to live with my mother's parents. I haven't heard from him since.
I laid down in my bed, and my mind raced. School was tomorrow, and I was nervous. First impressions meant everything and I wanted to recreate myself.