Flashlights in the Mirror

"That's the last box," I told my mom when we finally moved from that bad neighborhood in the city to a nice town in the suburbs. It was just the two of us. My parents were divorced and my mom only took custody of me. She didn't care that he took four of her kids because her only wish was to have him away from her. Then I was finally able to walk inside into the place I was able to call home.

The house had four bedrooms. Two of them were for my mom and me while one was being used for storage and the other one was a guest room. I walked in the guest room. There wasn't much, just a bed, a dresser, and a mirror in the back with a lot of smudges. I put a box of sheets that we were using for the bed down and walked out.

I went to the kitchen and helped my mom empty some boxes. We both were tired. We then trudged our way up the stairs to go to bed for the first time there. As tired as I was, I couldn't fall asleep. For some reason, I kept feeling a presence.