My little sister and I watch as our mother and father yell at each other from behind a wall. Macy just wanted a glass of ice cold water before bed and when she walks in to the kitchen she is welcomed with a yell from our red faced mother. “Why aren’t you in bed?!” my mother demanded. Macy had run into my room crying. “What’s wrong?” I had asked. I had been in the middle of checking twitter. “Mommy and Daddy are fighting again.” She sobbed. Macy and I crept behind the wall to listen. It broke our hearts when our parents fought. They are a second away from getting a divorce.
Divorce. That word is the word that always zooms through my mind. If our parents divorce, I already know one of us is going to over to England, where my dad is from. And if one of us gets sent there with our dad, then the other will be with our mom, who will be moving to Hawaii, where her sister lives. I don’t want that to happen, in reality, it will.
We listen to our parents bicker for minutes. I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed Macy’s hand and slowly walked to my room. I sat down on my bed and just looked down at my feet. There’s no way that my mom and dad could ever learn how to love each other again. Ever. I feel a tear roll down my face, but I quickly wipe it away. I couldn’t let Macy see me crying. I was her rock, the one who pushes her through bad times. Not the one who cries and is weak.
Macy sat on my bedroom floor, playing with the carpet sadly. “Macy, do you know what happens if Mom and Dad divorce?” I ask. I knew she knew this, but I just wanted to ask. “Yes, we will be separated.” Macy says quietly. “Yeah, but know that I’ll always love you,” I say. Macy looks up, stands up and walks over to me. She hugs me tightly. “I love you, too,” she says and starts sobbing.
All the sudden we hear the slamming of doors. The argument was over. “Lyka, what ever happens, remember me,” Macy whispers. “Forever,” I say. I said good night to Macy after a couple minutes of talking. Macy walked to her bedroom, which was right next to mine. I walked into the bathroom and washed my face.
My blonde hair fell on my shoulders. My blue eyes looked tired. I sighed and put my hand up to the mirror. My reflection did the same. I looked into my own eyes. What has happened to my life? I know what will happen in the near future, and hated it. And it’s all my parent’s fault. I sigh again and bend over and splash water on my face.
Brushed my teeth and walked into my room and changed into plaid cloth shorts with a white tank top. I climbed in bed and just looked at the ceiling fan. I thought about my friends and everyone I knew here in Chicago, Illinois. “I love you all,” I whisper aloud. With that I fell into an uneasy sleep.
I was shaken awake. I was about to scream, but I heard my Dad’s panicked voice, “Come, Lyka, pack up everything you can. We’re leaving, now,” I looked dumbfounded. What was happening? “Lyka, now,” My dad scolds me in a whisper. I jumped out of bed and ran over to my closet and grabbed my duffel bag. I threw it on my bed and ran over to my dresser. I grabbed as many clothes as I could.
My eyes were filling with tears. I heard my dad hurry out of his office, where he has slept for the past five years when my parents had started fighting. I glanced over at him. He had a small duffel bag and a backpack. I nodded and put as many clothes I could in my bag. Then I grabbed my small black Jansport backpack and put my computer with its charger, my phone charger and my diary with a pen and three pencils. I opened my diary quickly and scribbled a note to Macy. I hope she will find it.
I love you with all my heart. Don’t forget me!
I wrote as quick as I could and put my number at the bottom. I folded the note and threw it on my bed. I could see the tear drops on it.
“Lyka, we have to go now!” my dad says. I grab my duffel bag and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I looked around my room quickly. I then looked down at my wrist. My special bracelet I had received from my grandma before she passed away. I pulled it off my wrist and placed it on my bed by the note.
Then I felt a tug on my arm. I turn around and see my dad. He let go and we walk as quickly as we could out of the house, trying not to make so much noise. We threw our belongings in the back seat and hopped in the car. My dad backs out of the driveway and drives to the air port.
I watch as my house got smaller and smaller as we drive away. When we turn left, it disappears. I know I will never see it again. A tear rolls down my face. “Dad, where are we going?” I ask shakily. “Don’t cry baby. I did what was best for us.” My dad says. “Dad, where are we going?” I demand. “Holmes Chapel, Cheshire England,” my dad says quietly.
I burst in tears because I know I will never see my friends again. I will never see my mother again. And what broke me most of all, was that I’ll never see Macy again.
The day we both had dreaded together has finally come. And Macy isn’t going to realize what had happened until she wakes up and finds my room empty with only that’s left of me is the note full of tears and my bracelet.