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>>>>>>>>>>>>>And the Story Begins<<<<<<<<<<<<<

          "What to wear? What to wear?" I stared hopelessly at the mounds of dirty clothes littering my bedroom floor with both of my hands on my hips. I picked up a random black t-shirt from the floor, smelled it, and then instantly flung it across the room, away from the innocence of my nose. It smelled like my brother's armpit; disgusting!

          My mother used to do all of my laundry for me back in New York, and so I had no clue about how to fix my 'Dirty Clothes' problem. Since Grandma Margaret was just too old and too weak to do anything but cook and nag, I had to find a way of solving the problem by myself.

          I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. Everything was so different now, and everything was changing so quickly. I just wish that I could just grab on to a moment before it flashed before my eyes.

          I panned my room, past my unmade bed, dozens of fan posters plastered in strange ways all over the once empty spaces on my walls, clothes strung over everything in sight (both dirty and slightly dirty), and a mahogany bookcase filled with books in pristine condition. After what had felt like five minutes of eye-searching, my gaze finally landed on something yellow sticking out of the closet.

          I narrowed my eyes and walked closer for a better chance of identifying it, only to stop dead in my tracks. My heart began to beat faster as I realized what the yellow material was. 'You can do this', I thought to myself as I began to take slow and indecisive steps toward it. My breath hitched in my throat as soon as I had pulled the material out of its place in my closet, forcing me to hold back the tears that were threatening to burst out.

          "It's just a top. It's just a top", I chanted to myself as I slipped it over my head, trying to stay strong. I turned to the body mirror in the room and felt a tear slide down my cheek. This used to be my favorite shirt. It also happened to be the very shirt that I wore that day, the day when the navy blue jeep cut in front of our white Toyota Camry, forcing my father to stop. The stop was so abrupt that our car did a 360 in mid-air and landed six feet away.

          This was the shirt that was soaked in my parents' blood and a little bit of mine, but I didn't care. I didn't care that my favorite shirt was probably ruined in that moment because in that moment, all I cared about was the last look on my parents' faces right before they went unconscious, and the heart-wrenching feeling I experienced when I realized that I would never see them again. Because they were gone. They were gone forever.

          For a while, I just stood in front of the mirror, watching myself and comparing who I became to the girl I was, just two months ago. Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed, but the pain and the guilt knotted inside of me. When I found out from the doctors and David that I would be okay, I asked myself over and over again, "Why did I survive?" Because if I had a choice back then, if I had a choice to choose how I could have ended up, I would surely have chosen death.

          I turned away from the mirror, slipped on the cleanest pair of jeans that I had, and walked out of my bedroom.

          Grandma Margaret was already in the kitchen, busy as usual, and muttering random and useless things to herself as she set up breakfast. Her once chestnut brown hair was now a light gray, with little reminders here and there of her once youthful appearance. "Good morning Grandma!" She turned around and smiled at me, once again broadcasting the strong set of teeth she had seemed to obtain from childhood. "Hello Addy!" She croaked with delight, her voice cracking at the end.

          She noticed the shirt I was wearing and smiled harder. "I'm happy for you, Addy. You are a strong young lady and you will get over it".

          My despair disappeared after I saw the smile on her face. I smiled and stood on my tiptoes to see what she was cooking, and she noticed. "I'm just making some French toast and scrambled eggs. Although David is coming back today, he won't be here 'til dinner, so it's just for the two of us", she squeaked, her voice growing weaker.

          She emptied the contents of the frying pan onto both of our plates while I fetched the apple juice. Upon seeing me pull it out, Grandma Margaret stared at me quizzically. "What?" I asked defensively, raising my shoulders a little as I stared at her confused face, to which I admit, kind of made me want to laugh. "We always drink orange juice Grandma. Come on, live a little!" I cheered jokingly. She couldn't stop the smile making its way across her face, even if she tried.

          I grabbed a seat and stared at the breakfast hungrily. Cooking and nagging were the only kinds of work that Grandma Margaret actually did in the house. Although her nagging was annoying, I had to admit that her cooking skills were magnificent. "Hey!" She called out, grabbing my attention just before I could dig in. I stared at the amused look on her face as she tried to hold back her laughter. That look usually meant she was going to make a joke. A cheesy and un-funny one, if I may add. "I have actually lived more than a little! Have you forgotten that I am to die soon?" She exclaimed in her mousy, squeaky voice. I frowned. She always makes jokes about death. They're never funny. "That's not funny Grandma, and you know it". She continued to laugh and shushed me with a flick of her wrist, which just made me angrier. I ignored her maniacal laughter and began to stuff my face.

          Grandma always makes fun of death and of her age. It annoys David and me so much because afterwards, she leaves us to ponder how it would actually be like without her. It was never a pretty thought. We could never pull a positive thought from her dying.

          After we had licked our plates clean, I grabbed mine and Grandma's plate and walked to the sink. Grandma Margaret, having nothing to do, began to ramble. I finished washing the plates quickly and turned around to find her playing with the gold chain that she never took off of her neck. "Addy?" She asked suddenly. I lowered my eyebrows and responded with an unsure, "Yes?" She began to twist her necklace harder and faster. "I- I just wanted to know if you were going to do anything today", she stated nervously and pleadingly in her mousy voice.

          "Well", I shifted my weight onto my left leg and shrugged, "I was just going to take a walk until David comes back. You know, chill". Her face fell and her small nervous smile, turned into a disappointed pout. "But- But, you don't want to leave poor me all alone! I could die any second now Addy!" She begged, pouting. I groaned, exasperated. "Grandma. It's just- It's just, I have been cooped up in the house for the first week of summer already. I just want to take a short walk to get some air". I took one look at her face and realized that she was still holding her ground. She really wanted me to stay home. "I'll be back in an hour then! Just one hour!" I exclaimed, pleading with my eyes for her to understand that a teenage girl needed her space. She stood there staring back at me, pouting, while I tried to hold my ground. I tried, but after a brief moment, when I realized that I wouldn't win against the old woman who was used to getting what she wanted, I finally gave in.
          "Fine! I'll do it! I'll stay home". I collapsed onto the pale green couch in the living room and rubbed my temple while she clapped her hands gleefully.