Human OR.. AM I?

Human OR AM I

Chapter One

Thalia’s POV

This is the house Mom left me.

I stood on the front porch, staring up at the massive two-story home. It was far too big for two sixteen-year-olds, and every time I looked at it, the silence felt heavier.

After Mom passed away, I made one decision that surprised everyone—I filed for emancipation. There was no way I was going into the foster care system. I’d heard too many horror stories from my best friend, Jaylen, who had spent years bouncing from one home to another.

Now the house was mine.

Well... ours.

Jaylen had turned sixteen yesterday, which meant she could finally be emancipated too. She’d be moving in next Wednesday, and for the first time in months, I wouldn’t have to face everything alone.

I let out a slow sigh and unlocked the front door.

The movers had already dropped off every box, leaving the living room stacked from floor to ceiling. Furniture sat wrapped in plastic, boxes crowded the hallways, and nothing was where it belonged.

It looked less like a home and more like a warehouse.

Tomorrow was my first day at a new school.

Great. I thought with sarcasm

As if losing my mom, moving into a giant house, and starting over weren’t enough.

“Oh well,” I muttered with a shrug. “That’s life, I guess.”

I looked around at the mountain of boxes filling the house.

I decided to start with my bedroom and the music studio. After that, I’d tackle the kitchen. At least then I’d be able to sleep in my own bed tonight, and maybe I could get back to finishing the song Jaylen and I had been writing.

We’d always dreamed of becoming singers. Everyone who heard us perform said we had a real shot at making it in the music industry.

Not that it mattered right now.

Graduation was still two years away.

If I was being honest, I was just trying not to think about Mom... or the way she died.

Or the fact that tomorrow I’d be walking into a brand-new school where I didn’t know a single person.

What if someone tried to bully me?

A laugh escaped my lips as I imagined exactly what Mom would say.

“Lia, my baby, don’t you dare let anyone—or anything—bully you. And if they do, beat their fucking asses and remind them whose daughter you are.”

“Because you’re my fucking daughter, you hear me?”

“Yes, Ma,” I’d always answer with a grin. “I hear you.”

I smiled through the sting behind my eyes and shook my head, trying to push the memory away.

I could almost hear her laughing.

“Now go kick some ass, my Lovebug.”

For the first time since pulling into the driveway, I smiled.

“Miss you too, Mom.”

“Okay, that’s enough feeling sorry for myself,” I muttered. “Time to unpack this bullshit.”

The first thing I needed was my speaker. There was no way I was unpacking in complete silence.

After digging through what felt like six different boxes, I finally found it.

“Yes!”

I held it above my head like Rafiki presenting Simba in The Lion King.

“I have found you!”

Laughing at myself, I connected my phone and scrolled through my playlist before settling on “Ghetto Love Story” by BabyChiefDoit. The second the beat dropped, I cranked the volume and hit shuffle.

Music instantly filled the empty house.

I couldn’t help myself.

I started dancing through the living room, singing at the top of my lungs while tearing open boxes and putting things away. Every now and then I’d use a broom as a microphone or break into a dramatic performance like I was already on stage in front of thousands of fans.

By the time the playlist had cycled through several songs, my bedroom finally looked like an actual room instead of a storage unit.

“One room down,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

I smiled to myself before grabbing another box.

“Next stop—the studio.”

That room was going to be my favorite.

I started with the studio, installing the soundproof wall panels before bringing in the recording equipment. It took hours, but by the time I finished, everything was exactly where I wanted it.

Perfect.

I stepped back and smiled.

“This is going to be amazing.”

As I carried another box down the hallway, I noticed several boxes labeled Mom stacked against the wall.

My smile faded.

I wasn’t ready to go through them.

Not yet.

Instead, I carried them into one of the spare bedrooms.

“This room will be yours,” I whispered. “A place where I can keep all your things... and remember you.”

I carefully set the boxes in the corner before quietly closing the door.

One day, I’d decorate it just the way she would’ve liked.

Just... not today.

Right as I walked back into the hallway, one of my favorite songs came on.

“On My Mama” by Victoria Monét.

I couldn’t help smiling.

Within seconds, I was singing along, dancing through the house like nobody was watching.

Then my stomach growled.

“Okay... I get it,” I laughed. “Food first.”

I glanced toward the kitchen, still filled with unopened boxes.

“Kitchen can wait until tomorrow.”

Grabbing my phone, I ordered a medium pepperoni pizza and settled onto the couch while I waited.

After the pizza arrived, I turned on Interview with the Vampire—the new version—and happily ate my way through four episodes before finally pausing the TV.

“Definitely worth the binge.”

I threw away the pizza box, stretched, and headed upstairs for a shower.

Steam quickly filled the bathroom as I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, studying my reflection.

Mom always said I had eyes no one could ever forget.

One was as blue as the ocean.

The other was a soft lavender that almost looked unreal.

Against my warm brown skin, they stood out even more.

My dark curls fell well past my shoulders, framing my face, while my full lips and what Mom lovingly called my button nose completed the picture.

I wrinkled my nose at my reflection and laughed.

“You and that button nose...”

God, I missed her.

I sighed before stepping into the shower.

Music continued playing softly from my speaker in the bedroom. By the time I finished washing up and completed my nighttime routine, “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat featuring SZA had started playing.

After changing into my pajamas, I crawled beneath the blankets and stared at the ceiling.

“Tomorrow,” I mumbled with an exaggerated eye roll, “I become the new girl.”

Not exactly my dream.

Still...

At least my motorcycle had arrived with the movers.

If I had to survive my first day at a new school, I was definitely riding there in style.

With that thought, I switched off the lamp, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and let sleep find me.