I shivered as I stepped off the plane. Pulling my jacket closer to my body, I took in my surroundings.

I knew Alaska was cold, but I wasn't prepared for the harsh winds that attacked me. The still moving propellers of the plane weren't helping either, causing my dark hair to whip around. I'd never been on a plane before, and I never thought I'd end up on one so small.

"Birdie!" I heard as soon as I stepped into the tiny airport. My grandmother stood on the other end, she was waving both her small arms to get my attention.

My father came up with the nickname Birdie. My mother named me Beatrice, that was the name of my great grandmother, but it was long and my father didn't like it. He'd taken to calling me Birdie right away, and it stuck. I'd ended up going by Birdie most of the time.

My grandmother was still waving her arms in excitement as if I hadn't already seen her. Her yelling also grabbed the attention of everyone else, but it wasn't like she'd care.

She was a free spirited woman, whom my mother inherited her red hair from.

I smiled and quickly walked over to her so that she wouldn't yell much longer.

"Hi," I said as she pulled me into her tiny embrace.

She was a small woman, much smaller than me and I only stood at five foot five myself, but she made me feel like a giant as I seemed to almost tower over her.

The hug lasted a long time, which I didn't mind. I missed her a lot. I hadn't seen her since I was nine and she came to visit Wisconsin, but she was getting too busy with her work. She was still nice enough to send me presents on my birthday, though.

"Oh, I missed my girl!" She exclaimed, pinching my cheek.

"I missed you, too," I said, smiling.

She grabbed my bags from me and led me out of the airport. Outside in the parking lot she shoved my things into her rusted Jeep Wrangler and physically jumped into the driver's seat.

Something I loved, other than how tiny she was, was that she never let it hold her back. So, she decided to have the biggest vehicle she could get her hands on.

"Are you excited for your first day of school tomorrow?" She asked as she started the car and drove into town, "You can take the Jeep. It'll be better than riding the school bus."

"Yeah, I'm really excited," I tried to lie, "and thanks, but won't you need it?"

"No, I don't have any errands to run so it's all yours."

My grandmother was a novelist. She wrote crime novels mostly, at least that's what she was famous for, and she was fairly good at it.

Her house was just outside of town. It sat behind a long driveway covered by trees on the edge of the wooded area. She liked how peaceful it was there, it made it easy for her to write. And I didn't think the peacefulness would be bad for me either.

I hadn't had a consistent sleeping schedule. I'd been getting a few hours when I could. My therapist had told me I was dealing with survivors guilt. That, because I was the only one that lived from the car crash, I felt guilty because they were dead and I wasn't.

I was just hoping that my grandmother wouldn't ask any questions when she noticed how little I slept.

I didn't even know what I would tell people at school when they asked why I moved here, or where my parents were, or why I was living with my grandmother. I wasn't very good at lying, but I also wasn't very good at talking about everything yet.

"I went ahead and started to decorate your room for you, but we can change anything you'd like," she said, pulling me from my thoughts, as she turned into the driveway.

I didn't notice how quick the drive was, but that could have less to do with me zoning out and more to do with how small the town is.

I pushed the door handle but the door didn't move. I pushed again but found myself still stuck in the Jeep. My grandmother appeared on the other side and popped it open for me.

"Sorry," she said, "it gets stuck sometimes. I haven't felt the need to get it fixed 'cause I don't get a lot of passengers."

I stepped out and opened the back door to pull my things out as she laughed at her joke. I, actually, couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, but she found it funny. Either she found it funny or she was trying to fill the awkward silence. I decided with the latter.

She unlocked the front door to the house and led me inside. The entrance of the front door looked straight into the staircase. The downstairs of the house was structured as a big circle, every room connecting to the other. To the right of the staircase was the living room, which led to my grandmother's room. To the left was the dining room which connected to the kitchen. Off of the kitchen was my grandmother's office.

My room was the only one upstairs along with a bathroom, so it'd be nice to have a little bit of privacy without being all alone. God only knows how much I don't need more of that right now. Being all alone with my thoughts wasn't very healthy for me these days.

It seemed like things were happening so quickly around me. My parents accident happened almost two months ago and I was already packed up and shipped off to start a completely new life without them. It didn't give me much time to cope, so I've gone with the next best tactic. Avoidance.

My bedroom was a pastel green. To the right of the entrance was my bed. It was in the center of the far wall covered in a white duvet and decorative pillows, and next to the one window I had. The window was large with a bench in it for sitting. It was across from the door so that even now, as I stood in the entryway, I could see the dark forest that sat behind the house. There was a desk in the corner on the opposite side of the room, across from the bed, and a dresser next to it.

I walked over to the bed and set my bags down onto it.

"Well," my grandmother spoke up. I'd almost forgotten she'd been in the doorway as I inspected my new room. "I'll leave you to unpack. Dinner will be ready in a few hours. I'm making your favorite."

"Thanks," I said as she gave me a hug and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I walked over to the desk and sat down in the chair, leaning back to crack my back against its wooden frame. The long plane ride took a lot out of me. It didn't help that I was scared of heights and was on the verge of a panic attack for six hours.

I rubbed my neck, hard, and looked out the large bay window next to me. This was a fairly big guest room, and it made me wonder what the master looked like.

My view from the window looked straight into the dark forest behind the house. It was captivating how the trees blocked out the sun. I could only see a few rows in, then it became a void. I couldn't help but imagine the secrets it held within it's shadows.

I got up from the desk and walked back over to my bed, unzipping the first bag that held my clothes. I didn't pack a lot, figuring I'd buy more things once I got here. Moving from Wisconsin to Alaska was a daunting task, and I wanted to make it easier than it would have been if I'd kept all my possessions.

Clothes and books, that's all I'd brought. I didn't feel like bringing much else from the past with me. It only made me think about things I'd rather not think about.

I couldn't pack out all of my books, so the ones I didn't read as much stayed in my suitcase as I put it under my bed. After I finished putting my clothes away, I laid down on the bed. I didn't sleep the whole flight, but I didn't notice how tired I actually was until my head hit the pillow. My eyes were heavy, I tried to resist as I knew my grandmother was making dinner downstairs. It would probably be ready soon, but I slowly lost that battle and let my lids slide closed.

Only a few minutes, I had told myself.

I suddenly jolted awake when there was a knock on my door. I looked out the window and noticed that it was dark outside. I hadn't meant for the time to slip away from me, but, admittedly, I needed the sleep.

Lazily, I rolled off the bed and walked over to the door, opening it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," my grandmother said as I rubbed my eyes. "Dinner is ready, but you can come down whenever."

I yawned and motioned for her to go downstairs first so that I could follow. The smell that came from the kitchen made me realize how hungry I actually was, given, I hadn't eaten yet today.

I'd started to forget about meals. Lately, all the days just blurred together, so by the time I realized I'd forgotten lunch it was already time for dinner.

"So," she started, making a plate of chicken parmesan and handing it to me, "how's your Aunt Michelle?"

Aunt Michelle was my dad's sister. She was born when he was nineteen, so they didn't really have much of a sibling bond, considering the age gap. She was only ten years older than me, and the only family, besides my grandmother, that I had left. After my parent's accident, she took care of me for a few weeks before we figured everything out. It was nice to have someone take care of the adult aspect of everything, like dealing with my parent's things and all their money. She was too young to take care of me, though. And I knew that, so I didn't mind coming here to be with my grandma.

"She's good," is all I said as I sat down at the kitchen table. "Chicken Parm?" I ask, trying to change the subject. I was wondering what she was cooking, considering I don't think I'd ever told her what my favorite meal was.

"Isn't this your favorite?" She asked, "I was wracking my brain trying to remember, this isn't it?"

"It's my mom's," I said, not looking at her as I speared my fork into the chicken and took a bite.

"Oh," I heard her say, she was obviously disappointed in herself. I mentally punched myself in the face for even bringing it up. How hard was it just to say 'thank you'?

"It's really good, though, thank you," I said, covering my mouth as I chewed.

She gave me a smile that didn't exactly reach her eyes.

"Well," she started, "what's your favorite then?"

I shrugged, not really knowing.

"I really like burgers," I said, "like, fast food. Burgers and milkshakes with fries. That's my favorite."

I saw her smile a real smile this time.

"Me too," she said, taking a bite from her plate now, "I'll have to take you to a really good diner we have, just in town. Best burgers."

"That sounds great."

The rest of the night we ate in comfortable silence. We didn't have much to talk about, but that was fine with me, I didn't really feel like talking.

After dinner I washed off my plate and put it in the sink, then walked back upstairs to get ready for bed. As I pulled open my dresser drawers and pulled out some clothes to wear, I saw my reflection in the window. I had forgotten that I'd left it open. I knew there was nothing on the other side that could see me, my grandmother lived practically in the middle of no where, but a part of me urged to close the curtains, just in case.

The quietness of everything kept me up. I felt the need to listen to every creak the house made, or all the locust outside singing. It was just another reminder of how everything had changed. I was used to going to sleep with the sound of cars honking or people yelling outside. I was used to my life being so fast and loud. Now it's all quiet.

Everything was quiet.