Nobody Will Know

I look around my room and think about everything that has happened in it over the past three weeks. A lot of tears, then a lot of blood, then about two weeks of drugs/sex, and then more tears. It's one of the only places I've been since we got the news of my father's death.

The only things left in here are my fully packed carry-on for the car ride to California and a mirror stuck to my wall. It was the only one in the house that I couldn't get down. I hadn't wanted to get even a glance at my reflection because I knew I wouldn't like what I saw looking back at me.

So you know what I did to that mirror? I trashed it. I covered it in duck tape, painted it, drew sharpie in any of the marks that showed through.

But still, even now I could make out tiny parts of my outfit and make-up smeared face. My clothing style has changed so much because of the death. At first I dressed like a total emo, then a disgusting slob that hangs around her house and thinks about how thing use to be better. Right now I sort of dress like a slut; push-bras, low shirts, booty shorts, tons of make-up. I just don't know what my style is anymore.

I grab my bag and take one last look around, then slowly back up out of my room. I walk straight pass my parent's old room and down the stairs. My mom has been staying in the guest room, not being able to see his things all spread out throughout the their room. Neither of us we're able to go in there and pack up his stuff, we had to call her sister to come help and even she had trouble with packaging his things.

Everybody loved my dad. he was truly one in a million and nobody could every replace him. I don't know if I'll ever be happy again with him not here to keep me going through the day.

I guess I'll just have to fake it.


My mom and I left our home state of Illinois a little more than eight hours ago, so we're stopping for maybe an hour to stretch our legs and then I'll take over driving for the "night shift". We're currently stopped at a truck stop on the boarder of Iowa and Nebraska.

I know, what could I possibly do to at a truck stop to pass an hour? There's an easy answer.

I turn to my mom and say, "I'm going to walk around. I see some trees so maybe there's a trail. So maybe I'll go on a hike or something. I have my phone and I won't go far."

I was already walking away before she even said okay.

Now, do you really think I'm going on a hike? Hell no.

What I really do is head behind the building so that my mom wouldn't see me pull my weed and lighter out of my shoe. As I slid down the brick, I lit it up and got settled in. Sadly, I had to stay sober enough that I'd be able to drive so I couldn't do much.

"Hey!" Oh, shit.

I turn my head and realize it's just a teenager. He's pretty cute too. About four to five inches taller than me, tan-ish, shaggy blond hair. In one word; smokin'.

He slides down beside me and asks, "You want to share?"

I shrug my shoulders and pass the joint.

I stay quiet but he continues talking, "So what's a hot little thing like you doing behind a truck stop? There are a lot of perverts that would easily take advantage of this situation."

"And I'd probably let them."

He raised his eyebrows, clearly shocked. "Now, why would you do that?"

I shrug my shoulder and take a long drag. Then I stare at him and he stares back.

Do you really want to know what happened next? Sorry all you jack-offs out there, but I'm not going into serious detail with it. Let's just say...

Okay, I'll be blunt. We had sex. He was inconsistent at times, wanted me to do all the work, but it ended up being exactly what I needed.

As we were walking back to the front of the building, he turns to me and says, "My name's Mark by the way."

And that's when I made the change. Just being one step closer to getting over my father's death.

"My name's Dawn."


It took my mom and me another two days to get to California. Because I had my temps, we didn't have to stay overnight anywhere. She would drive during the day and I would drive during the night. It was a pretty quick journey.

By the time we reached our new home in Los Angeles, the movers had already been there and had unloaded all of our boxes in the foyer. It was a really big ass house, not the kind of place I'm use to living.

"Mom? How can we afford this?"

She doesn't answer me right away so I take my eyes off the huge, massive thing in front of me and notice that she's already inside. So much for slowly taking it all in.

I walk inside and can immediately tell that it's even bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. The foyer, as my mother told me in the car, is where we would have guest. The dining room is a branch off the foyer and by walking in the door I could just barely make out where the dining table would go. Off of that would be the kitchen.

I decide I'll explore the home later because for right now I just want to find my new room.

"Anna?"

"It's Dawn. We talked about this in the car."

My mother rolls her eyes and continues with what she was saying, "I'm going to the store, our furniture won't fit all this space. A designer came in yesterday and fixed up a room for you. She didn't know how to put all your clothes in so you're going to have to do that part of it but I was just up there and I really think you'll like it. If you don't, just tell me and I'll have someone else come in and fix it for you."

I nod and turn to all the boxes.

I don't relax until I hear her go through the front door. I don't know why but ever since... you know... I haven't been quite the same around my mom. We use to have girls' nights and go shopping together and talk about boys but it just doesn't feel right anymore. Our relationship has become really strained.

I spot a box labeled "Anna's Clothes" and open it up to find a lot of my t-shirts. I pick it up and start heading up the stairs in search of my room.

The first thing I notice when I get upstairs is a wide open space that my dad would call a teen foyer cause he would know it's the kind of place I would bring my friends to hang out. It has a large window that looks out over the back yard and a large fire place. If my dad were here, we'd fight over who gets the remote for the TV that would surely go in here. I really miss him.

I go down the left hall and find the third door on the right to look like a teen's room. I drop the box of shirts and my jaw with it.

Along with a bed in the far left corner, there's a balcony right across from the door and a large open space on the entire right side. There's a blue chair in the very far left corner and when I walk back there I see a mini hall that connects to a large walk-in closet and a personal bathroom.

I'm uncomfortable.

Most girls my age would probably be freaking out if this was their room but I just can't get over the fact that we live here in the first place let alone this being my room! Is this really happening? Why can't I just go back a month when I lived in an average home with my mom and my dad.

I walk downstairs and grab my bag that contains at least one pair of clean pajamas and some underwear. I then find an average bathroom in the middle of the hall and take a hot steaming shower. When I get out I slip into some clean underwear, a baggy shirt, some shorts, and a pair of socks. I grab my stuffed animal turtle and shuffle back to my room where I close all the blinds and crawl under my covers.

It's just now ten in the morning but I think I've already had enough happen for one day. I try to sleep.