So, this is my new story...it starts slowly, but I plan on it lasting for a while. Please read and review. Please.

I dont own skins, clearly.

I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with smoke and holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it into the air around me. I could already feel the effects. I would have to thank Ryan for his excellent bud. I continued to watch the process in the mirror a few times. Light. Puff. Inhale. Release. It was one of those boring repetitive actions (recently, a daily occurrence), that always amazed me.

Watching the smoke from a spliff was one of my favorite things. The way the smoke hung in the air for a while, lingering lazily. The way my reflection takes on a slightly different tone in my mind. When I'm high, I notice things that I simply overlook normally. I noticed how really and truly red my hair is, especially in the bright lights of the bathroom. I noticed how pale I am, something that I used to be bothered by, but now I've grown accustomed to it; even embraced it. I wondered, not for the first time, if this was the face I wear in front of other people, or if they see something different. If I held myself differently knowing others could be watching.

I took another deep puff, feeling my mind expanding, slightly blurring the lines of reality. I knew probably smoked too much nowadays. It had been a while since a day had passed in which I had not smoked. But at this point, I couldn't think of a reason not to. Or I didn't want to. I shrugged my shoulders to myself in the mirror.

"Emily! Its almost ready!"

As my mothers voice reached my ears, I closed my eyes, releasing a deep sigh. Just get through dinner and you can go home. Just dinner. I felt a slight tinge of guilt at the thought. I hadn't seen my family in a month, despite the fact that I only lived twenty minutes away and wasn't particularly busy. I hadn't even seen Katie more than once a week in god knows how long, and she lived five minutes away. And here I am, after an hour, counting down the seconds until I can leave. But I just didn't feel like it. I knew my mother genuinely cared about me, but most of the time when she asked me to come over, she made it sound like I should feel obligated. But it was even worse to hear my dad tell me how much he missed me and that he wished he saw me more. I could see his love through his eyes. That fierceness. So very Fitch. I used to have that. It killed me that I just wanted to go home to my apartment, by myself, listen to some music, have a beer, read and go to sleep. And I didn't even know why.

I used a few eye drops, opened the small window on the wall, airing out the bathroom, before opening the door and heading down stairs.

"Emily, really, if you need some money for some new jeans, I can take you shopping next weekend." I dodged my mothers hands, reaching to examine the rip in the leg of my jeans, just like when I was sixteen, before replying.

"Mum, I don't need new jeans, they are fine." I knew she was just trying to find a way to be involved, but it irked me to no end. I walked quickly into the kitchen, past her, before she could respond. I mentally congratulated myself for taking a spliff break from my mother. I heard her let out an exasperated and tired sigh, before following me into the kitchen.

I sat in my usual spot next to James, unable to control my face as it wrinkled in disgust at the amount of cologne my brother covered himself with. Before I can even form words, I hear my sisters voice as she walks in from the living room to the table.

"Jesus. Ugh, take a shower and try not pouring the ENTIRE bottle on yourself next time."

"Shut up, bitch! This stuff is a fanny magnet." On instinct, I smack the back of his head.

"Ow! Mum!"

"Don't use that foul language, James," my mother says it distractedly. She can only see Katie from the kitchen and completely missed my act of violence. For a moment, it,t feels just like it used to when we were kids.

That is until I meet Katie's eyes. For a second, she smiles and it is like it used to be; but then her eyes look at me a little sadly, and regain the look that Katie has reserved for me lately. Silent anger mixed with hurt and annoyance.

I guess I cant really blame her. I'm not the same as I used to be. I have isolated myself from most of the people close to me in the past year. Instead, I spend most of my time alone or with my work friends. They don't know much about me, other than the basics. They have never met my family. Have never seen my apartment. Half of them don't even have my phone number. We usually hang out after work. It seems easier that way. But I know its not how it should be. Its just how it is. Maybe its how it will always be.

As my father joins the table, we begin to eat the mediocre health food in front of us. I hear my sister's fork scraping the plate, as she pushes her food around, practicing the art of making it looke like she ate more than she did. (We all learned it at a young age, with my mother's cooking). I glance up at Katie and take in her appearance. She looks tired but, strangely, happier than I last saw her. Art school is doing wonders for her.

It had shocked me, initially, to find out that Katie wanted to study art. Katie was never a particularly deep person. She didn't usually like getting her hands dirty, and, when we were younger, she was mostly interested in shagging as many guys as possible and going clubbing every night.. Extracurricular activities like art and music did not interest her in the least. She could barely focus on academics. But, surprisingly enough, she has found her place.

.

Katie had found out that she couldn't have children when we were eighteen and it hit her hard. Harder than I could have even anticipated, and I knew her better than anyone. For about a week, she went totally off the rails. I had to go out with her every night, after I found her passed out, without her shirt, on the front porch one morning. I made sure she was safe and that our parents didn't notice anything was off, but Katie was in so much pain, it was difficult to watch. To be around. I didn't know what to say. I was so shut off from my mind at that point, I couldn't comprehend dealing with something like that. Suddenly, one morning, she woke up, went and bought new clothes, and got the first job she could find. It was at a tailor shop where she helped clean up fabric and did odd jobs around the store. She still got plastered almost every night, but at least she was doing something. I saw it as a positive step.

Then, one day, she came home and told me she wanted to go to art school. She said she had been staying late at the shop, messing around with fabrics and old mannequins, anything lying around really, and she had begun to make things. She started spending huge chunks of time on these projects. I was skeptical, but she had her fierceness back. She looked like Katie Fucking Fitch again, for a moments at a time. Her eyes had that fire in them, even more than before. I remember it so clearly when she told me that she knew she wanted to go to art school. She was so sure. It was the first time I was ever really jealous of my sister.

Even now, looking over her leopard print flats and pearl earrings, I couldn't help smirk as I compared her to what a stereotypical art student looked like. She had toned down her sluttier fashion choices during the past year, though not entirely. But she was still so very Katie Fitch. But she always was the shocking one. The one that people really took notice of. She was always meant to do great things. And now she was happy. For a moment, despite her bitterness towards me, I felt my heart swell at that fact.

We ate in relative silence for a few minutes before I heard my mother clear her throat. As I looked up, I saw that she was preparing to speak, and from the look on her face, it was not good news. I looked around at the others, seeing my own questions reflected in the eyes of my siblings, while my father kept his eyes glued to his plate.

"Well, I just wanted to let you all know...um...as you know, over the past few years, we have had a slight change in situation." She paused to glare across the table at her husband, who kept his eyes on his plate, shifting uncomfortably under his wife's stare. "We are going to be relocating. Your father has found a job in Scotland that will help us out immensely."

I was taken aback for a moment at the idea of my parents moving away, and the house where I grew up, being lived in by someone else. But I really couldn't say I was that shocked by the news. After the initial surprise had worn off, I didn't feel much about it at all. I didn't really feel very strongly about many things these days. This wasn't an exception. Even though my mother's wedding planning business was still hanging in there, even if just barely, I knew that my parent's were still not making as much as they needed. I knew that this was something that they had considered for a while.

Despite my own calm reaction, I could see the emotion rising on James' and Katie's faces. James simply stood up and walked out of the room. I knew it would be hardest on him. He would be in his final year at college and would have to leave all of his friends and his life behind.

I knew my mother knew this too, which is probably why she let him walk out without a word and continued on as if nothing had happened. "I know both of you have your own flats, but half of your things are still here." I hadn't thought of that, but I knew it was true. My apartment was so small that I left half of my things here when I moved out, but I was close enough that I could come by when my parents weren't at home to get things. Eventually, I had everything i really needed. I left some seasonal clothes, things from my childhood, and things I simply didnt have room for in my current space. Katie did something similar, but she lived further away and had far more things she needed everyday, particularly clothes. Far more of her things were still here.

"Well, we have a little time to do that right, mum? You aren't shoving off right now, are you?" Katie was clearly a little miffed and annoyed at this situation.

"No, Katie." She paused. "Not this second, but in four days."

"What?" This time, I was shocked. Not at the thought of my parent's moving. I had thought this was coming for a while. I knew that my dad knew people in Scotland and that had been looking at places there. But four days? "Why so soon? What about James? That doesn't make any sense?"

"Wait, has someone already bought the house?" Katie voiced a a thought I hadn't even had time to get to yet. It was silent for a moment.

"Yes." My mother suddenly looked a bit...what was it? It seemed like a mix between annoyed, angry, and uncomfortable...? "She is actually a daughter of a friend of your father's. She is in a bit of a bind." My mother grimaced for a moment. I recognized it as her polite-but-actually-very-pissed-off face. "She HAS to have the house by a certain day. She's actually going to help us move out a little...Its very kind of her." Her face did not look like she thought it was kind.

My father spoke up for the first time. "She's been staying at a hostel for a month love. The poor girl is out of money. And my job starts next week anyway." He directed the last comment towards me and Katie. " James is done with school for the year and they need me there as soon as possible. This is just how it worked out girls." His eyes seemed sad as he looked at each of us, and I felt the urge to go and hug him.

But I didn't.

The conversation seemed to stop suddenly. No one spoke for the rest of the meal, everyone retreating into their own thoughts.

As soon as I walked through the front door of my apartment, I bee-lined to the stereo, turned on some music, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. As I settled into the small sofa, nestled in the corner of my tiny apartment, and breathed for a moment, my mind began churning. The spliff had worn off from earlier, all my thoughts were real and clear and jumbled. I felt like I was losing something, but I didn't know what it was. I couldn't place what it was and it was making it worse. Why was it so much worse to hear that they were leaving in four days than when I heard they were moving to a different country in the first place.

Well, clearly, less adjustment time.

That was true. The suddenness of the move was a definite factor. I need time to adjust. I need time to process.

And you'll miss them.

I know I don't see my parents very often, but they are still my parents. I'll miss them. I'll miss my little shit of a brother. And at least I'll still have Katie here. But I knew this would happen. I had an idea. Its not as if it is unexpected.

But you had no control over this situation.

That was a big thing, I knew. I know that the reason I have been isolating myself was because I understood people. And as much as you can understand people, the most important thing about them is that they are unpredictable. I know most people saw me as a calm and relaxed person. At work, I could handle crazy situations fairly well. But I hated not being in control. As long as I stayed emotionally uninvolved, I remained in control. Leave it to my family, people I will always be involved with, to throw a wrench in that.

There goes your comfort zone.

That was it. I knew that was it from the beginning. I am an addict. My addiction is my comfort zone. In the massive amounts of psychological theory I absorbed in uni, I decided that, if someone were to do a psych evaluation of some kind on me, I'm certain of two things. One, I have a tendency to be depressed. Weather I have a disorder, I don't know. But its there. Two, I'm terrified of leaving my comfort zone. Most people are, I suppose. But it paralyzes me. It's the reason I moved back to town so soon after graduation. I didn't know what I wanted to do and I was alone. My friends had become my safety net at University; my support system; my family. But they left to live out their own dreams. To follow their passion. I didn't know my passion, so I didn't go off into the unknown. I stopped and stayed. Stuck. I had grown with them so much and they were gone. And so I retreated to the only other safety net I knew. The place where I grew up. Only I wasn't the same person and it felt like going backwards. But I was here and I am too scared and unsure to go forward.

And now the rug is being pulled from under my feet. Again.

I became, for the first time, legitimately scared of my fate. I was on the edge of something. I probably should have been scared before, but now it was painfully obvious. If I continue the way I'm going, I'll be stuck. I'll continue to look forward to getting high as the highlight of my day, working a job that I don't love, surrounded by people that I hide myself from, wasting all this potential that I know I have, because I'm scared and unsure and lost.

This one thing. This thing that was not entirely unexpected. This small, stupid thing that would not affect my everyday life very much, if at all.

This could break me. And it terrifies me that I have become that weak. That this is all it will take.