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Prompt: Write a story with a line(s) from your favorite song.

“It’s all yours.” She says, proudly. I flinch. She seems to realize the implication of what she just said, and she frowns.

“I’m sorry.” She offers, and I offer a weak smile back. She nods, as if she’s accomplished something, and walks away. I stare at the room before me. The only bed and dresser are wooden and new. Unfamiliar. The room is suffocatingly barren and empty. A room is still a room, even when there’s nothing there but gloom.

With a shaky sigh, I stumble over to the single bed and drop down onto it, tears already dripping down my face. I curl into a ball, throwing my hand onto my mouth to muffle my sobs. I cry until there’s nothing left, and when there’s nothing left I stare at the wall. Empty. Eventually, my mom calls me down for dinner.

“Come on, it’s time for our first dinner in the new house!” She squeaks. “You can pick what seat you want! She says it as if it changes anything. A chair is not a house. And this house is not a home. I eat dinner as usual, I mumble my replies as usual. I avoid my parent’s worried gazes, and stare into my food. All the while I’m painfully aware of the empty seat at the dinner table. My mom starts saying something… something I only catch the end of.

“...and we know you miss him, but darling-” She trails off, uncertainly. She sighs. “it’s been awhile. It’s time to move on.” I stare back at her, uncomprehending. How can she say that? He wasn’t just my brother… he was her son, too.

“You’re not alone.” She says, but I am. “This is home  now.” She says, but it’s not. And I’m not meant to live alone. This house is not a home. Without a word, I push out of my chair and climb up the stairs. When I climb the stairs, and turn my key, please be there...I push the door open. Empty.  I sigh, tears threatening to spill over. I hold them back.

He’s really gone, isn’t he?

Author's Note

I have more, if anyone wants to read them.