Page 6 of Obsession

“We’re here,” my father announced before stopping the car.

I was snapped out of my thoughts and returned to reality, postponing a possible nervous breakdown for later, in my new room.

When I turned around to look at the house we had parked in front of, my first instinct was to frown and then grimace.

“This is our house?” I asked, even though he had already gotten out of the car. I followed him out, limping slightly because my feet were numb.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?”

My dad’s smile made everything worse, but I kept my comment to myself and just nodded. I’d lived in a sixteenth-floor apartment my whole life, and now I was being moved – against my will no less - to a picture-perfect, story-book house.

White. Horribly white, with some sort of plant nestled against the outside wall from the floor to a small balcony. Theplant looked like ivy, and what looked like a wooden ladder was stuck to the wall under it, leading directly onto the same balcony – perfect for sneaking out without my dad noticing. Hmm, maybe it wasn’t such a bad house after all. From the sixteenth floor, sneaking out of the house via the balcony, wasn’t exactly achievable.

The size of the house wasn’t overwhelming, but it was perfect for a small family. The house next door was much bigger, and I noticed a boy sitting by the second-floor window, watching me with curious eyes. Normally I would have smiled at him, but the new and repulsive Katherine – as my dad liked to call me lately – only returned to the car to get her bags.

Dad took them out of the trunk because there weren’t too many, as most of our things had been moved prior to our arrival.

I stayed still and sighed, bags at my feet, while he climbed back into the car. I kept my cool and started grabbing the bags when I heard him cursing behind me. I almost burst out laughing when I saw the front of the car sticking out of the garage.

“I can’t believe it; this garage is too small!”

He had his hands on his hips, and I could only be amused by his incredulity. I realized this wasn’t going to convince him to return to New York, but if my life here was going to be hell, why should his be perfect?

“Well parked, dad,” I scoffed, and he frowned at me, visually measuring the size of his old Opel.

“I think I need to take out the cabinet in the back.”

“Yeah, whatever, give me the keys,” I held my hand out to him, ignoring his plans for the garage as I took another look around while he searched his pockets for the keys.

It was hell disguised as heaven. Everything was just so… alive. The sun seemed to shine brighter, too much green and joy. Our house had a freshly mowed lawn and a hedge fence onlya few feet tall which made me feel uncomfortable and exposed. I didn’t belong here. I needed a dark corner to hide in and be undisturbed.

My father handed me the keys and followed me, saving the garage thing for later. The small dark wooden porch had three steps in front of the freshly painted white door with a diamond-shaped window in the middle. I felt like I was in an unsuccessful sitcom on Netflix.

I turned the key and entered the small hallway, picked up the suitcase from the floor and walked into the brightly lit living room with white walls and the same furniture we had in New York. The couch and the armchair upholstered in brown leather, the coffee table and the medium-sized flat-screen TV that used to be mounted on the wall but was now on a console table.

“What do you think?” my father asked, but I didn’t budge.

“You already know what I think.”

He stood in front of me and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll be better here, honey, trust me.”

“No, dad, you’ll be better here.”

Trying to avoid another fight, as we’d had had our fair share since he’d made the decision to move, I turned to my bags, grabbed them, and headed up the stairs. With every argument with my dad about this move, I hated him more and more and I didn’t want to go forward with it. I knew he wanted the best for me, but his definition of “the best” was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I heard him sigh behind me, but I kept walking up the freshly painted wooden staircase, noticing the kitchen with its white tiles and brown cupboards as I passed.

The corridor was dark and narrow. Two of the doors led to our bedrooms and the other was the bathroom – a bathroom we had to share. Considering we had moved into a house, I had hoped to have my own, but since my father hadn’t gotten muchmoney for the old apartment, we couldn’t afford such luxuries, and his childhood home had been sold some time ago.

I calculated from the position of the balcony which room would be mine, and when I was sure, I stopped in front of the left door. I gulped, opened it, and stepped over the threshold. It was bigger than I had expected. The walls were painted blue purple, not exactly my favorite color at the moment, but since my dad was wielding the paintbrush, I couldn’t have black walls. I would do it myself once I got used to… everything. My bed was pushed to the left side and covered with new white sheets. In front of it was an unfamiliar mid-sized brown closet with two mirrored doors. In the corner of the room, next to the balcony door, there was a desk with my old computer on it and a large beige chair in the other corner. Some of the things were new, replacing the ones in my old room.

I took a deep breath, examined every inch of the room, and realized to my surprise that it bore no resemblance to my old bedroom. It was completely different, apart from the two items that had been brought from the apartment – my bed and the computer, which I hadn’t turned on for many months. My dad was really trying to give me a fresh start.

The balcony was tiny, and I barely had enough room to turn around, but it was nice to breathe in the fresh air. This was new to me because fresh air was hard to come by where I came from, and my balcony had a breathtaking view of a tire factory. After years of breathing in burned rubber, it smelled like paradise here.

I left the glass door open, and the breeze blew past the white curtains I’d knotted to the sides, so the panoramic view of this small part of Seattle redefined my definition of “home”.

I threw myself onto the old bed and looked up at the ceiling, noticing how it was becoming more and more distorted.I got up and rummaged through my bag to take out my pills, then went in search of the bathroom.

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