Aren't We Just Terrified?

The first several hours of this drive was probably one of the most depressing times in my life. I am not even exaggerating.
The crushing feeling that my previous small but hopeful chance of escaping my parents has gone. That I might never be abled to live by myself for a long, long time.
Just 6 months ago, I was doing okay. College was everything I could have hoped for.
Except, my happiness didn't seem to last long, as always.
My parents stopped paying my college funds. They just decided that I didn't need to go anymore, and ripped away every chance of me getting a decent job away.
I started working at a grocery store near my apartment block, barely paying my rent, let alone my heating and electricity bills.
Everything started to crumble before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I managed to get fired from my low paying job, quickly running out of money, and had no choice but to move back in with my parents.
That was a real stop point for me. I stopped caring.
Becoming unsocial and returning to my teenage habits was apparently expected from my parents. I hated their guts for doing this to me, but I couldn't escape their grasp.

And so, now I'm sitting in the back of their crappy old car, arms folded and legs crossed, headphones plugged into my ears blasting angry punk-rock. It's almost as if I'm a teenager again. At least then I if were a teenager, I would be abled to get my grades high enough to get me a scholarship, avoiding this whole situation. But, no. A little cruelty I call fate just happened to crush my dreams of ever becoming independent, and I have nothing but my laptop and phone to entertain myself once we move into the new house.
I wonder from time to time what I'll do there. No young people supposedly, since my parents implied it was rather cut off from the outside world.
I like to imagine that the sort of town we were going to had kids who just couldn't wait to grow up, get good grades, and leave.
Oh, how I envy them.

"Envy is a weakness," My uncle would say, before he died. "I don't really need to explain why. You're smart enough to work it out, eh, Frankie?"

I have no idea why, but that single quote from him seems to stay planted in my head. Although I don't really take it into the account of my own life. Which is strange, because his intentions were clearly to help me through my small and insignificant problems.

"Nearly there, Frank," My dad says from the drivers seat.

I pretend not to hear him through my headphones, but unfortunately, I looked at him; and he saw it.

"Can we start fresh and drop the grunge?" He carries on.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I reach into my pocket, bringing out a stick of gum, avoiding eye contact.

"It means," My mom picks up. "That you're going to pay us a little more respect. There are other parents out there who wouldn't have been this kind-"

I place the stick of gum in my mouth, chewing slowly with narrow eyes.

"I wouldn't call people who cancel their kid's future for their own benefit good parents," I interrupt. They both look at me, almost in shock. "Oh, you don't think I'm that stupid, do you? Yes, I know that you cancelled the funding to afford the new house. It's not hard to work out."

They remain silent after that, just how I like them.
The sky in Pennsylvania is a dull grey, and I expect that it's that way a lot in the new town. No specific reason to why, it's just my pessimistic attitude to everything after I left college.
Rain starts to drip down the windows, and I look at my reflection in the mirror; and god, do I look like shit.
Most of my hair is packed into a tight beanie, leaving only my fringe out. I decided to wear a beanie since my parents like it that way ever since I dyed my hair black and red, makes me seem more 'normal'.
In my opinion, most parents definition of the word always seems to twist into their own interests. In my opinion, everyone is an individual, and there isn't really a normal.
Oh, yes, sorry for using my common sense on you readers. I heard that normal people don't like that.

***

By the time the car pulls up in our new drive, it's dark. Dark, but not dark enough to make it impossible to see the house.
I'm quite impressed by the size of it, since it was only $150,000. Remarkable, really. But I'm not going to tell my parents that.
It's almost like a mini mansion, just a bit... Creepier. Usually I'm a fan of creepy, but not when it scares me and gives me an everlasting feeling that something horrible happened there.
It reminds me of Tim Burton's interpretation of the world. With a dark blue roof, and grey brickwork. Windows as dusty as they get; and I could see that from outside the house.
I step out of the car, along with my dad, then my mom.
They grab our cases from the boot, then stand next to me to view the house.
I chew on my gum intentionally loud, since I know it will annoy them.

"Great deal for 100,000," Dad says, walking forward.

"I disagree," I said, following.

Both my parents sigh as we walk to the front door together. My dad fumbles with finding the keys for a moment, and it's then that I notice that his hands are shaking.
I frown, looking up at him.
He glances at me for less than a second, then returns to trying to unlock the door.
Once it's open, and gust of cold air hits me. Yes, cold hair is coming from inside the house. Not outside.
It's actually rather warm outside for a horrible day, but stepping inside makes me shiver.
My mom closes the door behind us, turning on the lights.
The first thing I notice is the huge chandelier, hanging above our heads.
I hear a little "isn't that beautiful?" from my mom.
A large staircase is in the center of the hall, leading upstairs.
A doorway on the left leads to the living room, and the other ones lead to the dining room and kitchen.

"Which one's my room?" I ask my mom as my dad makes his way into the kitchen.

"Aren't you going to come look around the house first?" She huffs.

"I'm tired."

She sighs again, looking at the floor.

"Second door on the right," She mumbles. "Lights out straight away."

I ignore her comment, running up the stairs with my case. The floor is creaky, and the place as a whole is ancient as hell.
The door has letters mantled on it, with animal themes. Titled 'Junior'.
I sigh, swearing that I would take those down tomorrow, replacing them with my "Coming in may cause death. Be warned." poster.
An instant sense of relief floods in as soon as I open the door.
The movers didn't do a bad job of moving the furniture. Not a bad job at all.
My desk is in front of the window, my bed on the left, my closet and drawers on the right. Look's like I won't have to reassemble everything.
I collapse on the bed, feeling a wave of stress and anxiety come on.
I decide that maybe it is a good idea to go to bed now. Even though I don't like the idea of being left to the horror of my own thoughts.

Notes

So, that's it. If you enjoyed just comment, subscribe, and give me a sign that you're liking it hehe.
So, without further ado, this is the end of the chapter :)