Things were moving pretty quickly.

Mom and Callie made the final decision about the apartment. It was going to be the second one.

So then they had to go back and fill out all these forms- adult stuff, I don't really know. And, just a few days ago, they called and said that Mom and Callie got the apartment. Which meant we could move in as early as April 24th. Two weeks from today.

And, that was the plan. To move in on April 24th.

Which means we have started packing. Just putting stuff we barely use in boxes- only leaving out things we need. That way it's not as much of a rush.

I guess you could say the whole process made me feel anxious. Packing up my stuff made me feel sick to my stomach.

I don't really know why. Nothing was wrong.

It should be a happy thing. Moving in with Callie. Moving to this nice apartment.

But, it reminded me of Dad. And when we left. And how scary it was.

I felt scared.

I just have to finish this box, then I can take a break.

That's what I told myself. Just one box.

I had decided to pack up some of the decorations in my room. Which was mostly my drawings. Since I didn't really need those in the next two weeks.

But, after I took them all down, the walls were bare.

Like when we got here. Right after we left the house I grew up in.

And then my mind got the best of itself and next thing I knew I was crying while organizing the drawings into folders.

It was silly. And stupid.

But, it lead to the current moment. Me, crying on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded my drawings and stupid folders and boxes.

Then Mom opened my bedroom door. I quickly wiped my tears.

I'm fine.

"Olive- baby, what's wrong?" Mom sat down next to me on the floor.

I couldn't hold it back, who was I kidding. I felt sick. Maybe I actually was lucky Mom came in.

I leaned against her, pressing my face to her shoulder, crying.

"Honey..." Mom wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I just cried, needing the comfort of my mom.

I just felt... scared. Panicky.

"It's ok, I promise it's ok." Mom said quietly. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what was wrong.

"I'm scared." I told her. I didn't lift my head from her shoulder. Tears were still falling down my cheeks.

"What are you scared of?" Mom asked, obviously confused.

"I don't know I just- packing. Like we did last time and I..." I sighed. It felt stupid to say.

"Okay..." Mom nodded slowly. "Look at me?"

I looked up at her, her face blurry from the tears in my eyes. I blinked, and her soft, loving expression came clear.

"Let's take a break. You don't have to pack up your stuff quite yet." She said softly.

I just nodded a little.

"It's ok. Don't feel silly." She whispered. "It reminds me of leaving, too. It's okay to be scared." Her voice was reassuring, sweet.

I felt a little calmer. Though, there was a pit in my stomach. Something churning, making me feel sick and dizzy and overwhelmed. All wrapped up in one lovely package.

I felt like I was going to vomit.

"Olivia..." Mom clearly noticed my discomfort. Motherly instincts I guess. "Ok, ok. Bathroom. Come on." Mom stood up, leading me to the bathroom.

We got there quick. I couldn't really remember how we got there. We were just... there. And then I was leaned over the toilet. Actually throwing up.

Throwing up didn't even stop the churning feeling inside my stomach. So then I cried. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what was happening. I felt like I wasn't in control of myself.

"Honey, I need you to breathe. Can you lean against the cabinet for a second? I'm going to get you water. I'll be right back."

And then I was alone. Only for a minute. Maybe less. Mom was quick to come back in. I felt a cool towel on the back of my neck, and she pulled me back against her.

"Alright. Try to drink something?" She asked, holding the glass close to me.

I took a few sips, but it didn't help. I didn't know what would help. I felt trapped.

"It's going to be ok." Mom put the glass down, stroking my hair with her newly free hand. "Does your head hurt?"

I shrugged. I guess I was starting to get a headache. Probably from the crying.

"Your stomach?"

I nodded. My stomach felt like it was twisting around itself.

Mom nodded slowly, "You gotta breathe, sweetie. I promise you're ok."

Mom just kept me close to her, trying her best to help.

I tried to focus. On something other than how scared I felt, or how bad my stomach hurt. It was hard, but I slowly started to feel my body calm down.

"You have yourself so worked up, honey." Mom said softly.

I let out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. I'm just worried about you. You've been scaring me lately- all this anxiety." Mom whispered.

"I don't know how I- I don't know why I threw up." I said quietly, truthfully. I wasn't sure what had gotten into me.

"You got worked up. It's alright. Do you feel better now?"

I nodded a little.

"Okay... good." Mom let out a sigh of relief, I felt some of the tension release from her body.

I felt bad for worrying her. I hadn't meant to get like that.

"You totally don't have to pack your things just yet. It's ok to wait. We have two more weeks."

"That's not a lot of time." Mom and I were sitting next to each other on the bathroom floor, now. leaned against the cabinet. She had an arm around me.

"It is. Olivia, if you're going to get this worked up about it, it can wait a little longer."

I nodded slowly.

Mom leaned over, kissing my head. "You worry me." She said quietly.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's cause I love you."