Forbidden

The memory always starts with the sound. it's a vivid memory, like a movie playing over and over in my mind. The screech of the tires. The piercing sound of metal colliding with metal and the shattering of glass. Each sound Echoes through my thoughts, hauntingly clear as if it was happening again right now. I remember the way my heart raced,pounding in my chest like a drum beat, echoing in my ears. Everything happened so quickly, yet also in slow motion. I see the scene unfold infront of me like a nightmare I can never wake up from. The twisted wreckage of my dad's car, mangled and broken like a discarded toy. Smoke flowing from the engine. And there, amidst the chaos, my father lies unmoving and unconscious. His face bloody and his eyes closed as if he was in a peaceful sleep. But I knew the truth, he was gone. I could hear someone screaming. That someone was me. My voice sounded foreign. My screams sounded distant. He was taken from me in the blink of an eye. Tears blurred my vision as I replay the scene in my mind. The pain still fresh even though it's been a year. I shake my head trying to drown out the one bad memory with all the good ones. Memories of all the love we shared, the bond that can never be broken, even in death. -------- My mind coming back to reality, I stand in my childhood bedroom. I take a deep breath and approach my desk, where years of school assignments and doodles can be seen. Carefully I begin to pack my notebooks into a cardboard box. Next were the photo frame. I looked at them one last time, reliving the moments captured in time, before putting them neatly into the box. I turned to my bookshelf, running my fingers along the spine of my favorite novels. Each book held a story, a world I could escape into whenever my reality because a bit too overwhelming. As I packed them away, I promised myself not to lose myself in these books so much that I let my life pass. Dad would want me to make new memories. Good memories. My clothes were folded and placed into boxes, each item reflects my personality. Some had to stay behind, deemed too juvenile for my new life- a rich man's step daughter. I would not let my new "title" change who I am. A couple months ago my mom met Mike. I was so angry at first that she could replace dad so easily. As time went on I realized that she hadn't replaced him but she di need a companion. As much as I hated to admit, Mike is a nice guy. He treats my mother like a queen and she deserves to be loved again. But still, the thought of leaving behind everything I know to start a new life with him felt daunting. With the last box sealed and labeled, I looked around my now-empty room. A deep sadness filling my chest. What would my new life look like? I was leaving behind my home, my friends. Would I fit into this new "rich" world? would they accept me as I am?