Leaving was hard, but it was a must.

While I absolutely loved the seemingly endless amount of rainy nights, the everchanging seasons, and getting lost wandering down the beautiful streets that I've come to call home throughout all these wonderful years, I knew that it was time. It was time to go and see what else was out there, to go and see what new adventures I could go on, and to go and see what the world was like outside of London, England (besides Fort Wayne, Indiana, my hometown, of course.)

In the back of my mind, I knew that I was going to leave one day. It was never a matter of if. It was a matter of when. However, I don't think that Dad and Papa were truly prepared for the day that I actually went to the airport to fly to North Carolina, but more on that in a bit.

My decision to leave London and move to Winston-Salem was officially made the moment that I was accepted into the University of North Carolina School Of Arts (or UNCSA for short) after auditioning to get into the School Of Music by submitting a video of me playing the piano and singing since I wouldn't have been able to fly down to North Carolina to audition in person because of school. I vividly remember how I had to record my audition countless times because I was very much insistent on the fact that it had be perfect. That meant that every single time I messed something up, whether it'd be a missed note or a note that was played or sung wrong, I started over from the beginning. But, of course, Dad and Papa kept insisting that my singing and piano skills were perfect to begin with and that I'm way too hard on myself. I didn't really believe them when they told me this though. Not because of the self esteem issues that I possessed (though that was part of the reason,) but because, while I loved them to the ends of the earth, Dad and Papa always said that I was good when it came to everything. This didn't surprise me since they saw me as a perfect child who could do no wrong and was good at absolutely everything she did, even though that was very far from being the case.

When I told my parents that I had been accepted to UNCSA, they were happy... for me, at least. Looking back on it now, I realize that they both put on fake smiles when I held up the acceptance letter and told them that I was going to accept their offer. The reason for their feigned happiness was that they realized that me accepting the offer also meant me moving to North Carolina and away from me. Luckily for me, they put their feelings aside and allowed me to be excited for the next chapter of my life. Well, until the day that I was scheduled to fly out to North Carolina, that is.

During the drive to the airport, my dads were unusually quiet. Papa just stared out the window as his elbow rested on the car door and part of his face rested on his hand and Dad just stared down at his feet with his arms crossed. I frowned as awkward silence filled the air when I realized that I had no idea what to say in order to even attempt to summon their usual lively selves. I frowned even more when, while I was waiting for a traffic light to change from red to green, I glanced into the rear view mirror and noticed just how frail Papa truly looked. Even though I knew that his frailness and other issues were his own doing (when I was fifteen, Dad and Papa sat me down and explained to me how Papa had a drinking problem and what exactly led to him developing a drinking problem in the first place,) I just couldn't help but feel bad for him. Unless Christmas was approaching, Papa was miserable almost all of the time. Every day was a battle for him. Every day, he had to fight the temptation of having a drink, he had to fight his cirrhosis, and, most importantly, he had to fight to stay alive (which, when you really think about it, is something that we all do every single day, one way or another.)

*****

It felt like an eternity and a half had passed once we finally arrived at the airport. I sighed softly as I stepped out of the car once I finished parking it and pressed the button to open the trunk. As I was walking over to the trunk, I heard and saw Dad and Papa open their doors and slam them behind them the moment they were outside. Unsurprisingly, they walked over to the trunk and began helping me with my luggage without saying a word.

Once I had finally gotten all of my luggage, I shut the trunk and dragged my suitcases behind me as I began walking towards the entrance. I let out another sigh as I let go one of my suitcases in order to open the door. I stepped inside of the airport after I had done so, looking down at the ground as I dragged my suitcases behind me and began heading to the terminal.

*****

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

Hearing Dad's voice after the extended period of radio silence between him, Papa, and me made my heart skip a beat and made me stop dead in my tracks. I gently squeezed the handles of the two suitcases that I had been dragging through the airport as I turned my head and looked back at the two men that I had come to consider my real parents. They were both frowning and Papa's eyes glistened with tears.
"I'm surprised that you even want me to say goodbye." I replied as I let go of the suitcases and walked over to them. "After all, neither you or Papa have said a single word to me since last night."
Dad sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it's been very hard for the two of us to properly process the fact that you're actually leaving. Ever since Papa and I officially adopted you, our worlds have revolved around you. Also, the time went by way too quickly. Those days where you were a little girl playing with her dolls."
"I'm still little." I mumbled while looking down at the eight inch heels that I was currently wearing. They were the only kind of shoes that I owned (and dresses were the only kind of clothing that I owned not only because I adored dresses, but because my heels made it impossible to wear anything else unless I wanted to constantly stumble or, even worse, fall directly on my face,) and that was because of my actual height. While all of my eight inch heels gave off the illusion that I was of average height, I really wasn't. When I wasn't wearing my heels (which was only when I wasn't out in public,) I stood at a measly four foot eight, and I despised this fact. My height has always been something that I've been insecure about, and it's always been the one thing that I would do absolutely anything to change.

"Let's not talk about that right now." Dad said, attempting to bring the conversation back to the subject at hand; the fact that I was minutes away from getting onto a plane and flying to North Carolina.
"Yeah, yeah." I shrugged, relieved that he had said this because I always hated it when he and Papa would nag me about the fact that I wore heels to conceal my true height. Even though I experienced excruciating pain in my feet almost every single night as a result of wearing heels frequently, there was no way on Earth that I was going to allow anyone other than my parents see how short I truly was.
"Please be careful while you're in North Carolina." Papa begged, finally speaking to me for the first time. "And even though nearly four thousand miles and a time difference of five hours will separate us, know that if you ever need anything, give me or Dad a call, and we'll do our absolute best to help you."
"I know you will." I couldn't help but smile softly when he told me this. I was so unbelievably lucky to have not one, but two amazing dads in my life. I honestly had no idea what I had done to deserve them. While it was true that they both drove me completely and utterly insane sometimes, I wouldn't trade either one of them for anything in the entire world, even if that anything was the chance to be taller.

At that moment, I blinked and I felt tears that I had no idea had formed roll down my cheeks.
"Come here." Papa simply said as he extended his arms out to me. I accepted his offer without even a moment of hesitation. More tears fell as I felt Papa wrap his arms around me and Dad join in on the hug. It wasn't until this very moment that I realized just how much I was truly going to miss the two of them. Before, the thought of never getting to see them rarely ever crossed my mind since I was too blindsided by the fact that I was going to go and experience a place that I had experienced all while attending college and doing what I loved the most; singing and playing the piano. And when the thought of never getting to Dad and Papa did cross my mind, it was a thought that I immediately dismissed since, again, I was way too focused on the fact that a brand new adventure lied in wait.

"I... I honestly didn't realize just how much I was going to miss you guys." I whispered, not caring about the fact that the makeup that I had spent quite a lot of time doing this morning was destroyed by all of my tears. Plus, I was pathetic, really. I was an eighteen year old crying to one of her dads about how much I would miss them, just like a child would when one or both of their parents were leaving for an extended amount of time. Had it not been for the fact that we were all currently in an airport, a place where people had more important duties to tend to rather than notice a random eighteen year old crying into the chest of her father (well, one of them, at least. Also, had it not been for my heels, I wouldn't have been able to reach his chest,) I would've been self conscious about the fact that at least one person was probably staring at us wondering what the hell was going on.
"We're going to miss you too." Dad whispered back as he began running his fingers through my curly blonde hair. I immediately began calming down when he did this. I don't know why, but I always seemed to calm down whenever someone ran their fingers through my hair while I was upset or stressed. Perhaps it was because of the fact that when I was twelve, I experienced vivid and terrifying nightmares almost every single night, nightmares so vivid and terrifying that I would wake up screaming and crying every single time. Upon hearing my screaming, Dad would burst into my room, ask what was wrong (though when these episodes became a normal occurance, he would just ask if I had had another nightmare and I would nod slowly in response,) sit down at the edge of my bed, and pull me into a tight and comforting hug in response. Then, as he was hugging me, he would run his fingers through my hair, and, for some strange reason, it would always immediately calm me down.

"Promise us that you'll be safe." Papa begged once I was finally able to tear myself away from him and Dad. "It's a very scary world out there. It's full of terrible people that can and will do the worst possible things to you, and the last thing that I want is to get a phone call from someone telling me that something terrible has happened to you."
"I promise." I grabbed ahold of his and Dad's hand and looked them both in the eyes as I told them this.

Just then, the announcement that my flight was beginning to have people board onto the plane came over the intercom.
"Well, I guess I better get going." I said sadly as I looked down at the ground. "Thank you for everything that you've done for me throughout the years. You guys are honestly the greatest parents that I could've ever asked for, especially since I didn't exactly have the greatest parents before you guys adopted me. There's no way that I'd ever be able to repay both of you enough for all of the stuff that you've done for me even if I tried, so thank you." I paused for a moment as I looked up at my dads. "And I don't say it nearly enough, but..." I trailed off as I moved my head and looked at both of them for a moment. "I love you."

At first, neither of them said anything. Instead, they just looked at me like I had something to them in a foreign language. This went on for a couple of moments before they both gave me a smile and pulled me into another group hug. I happily accepted this and wrapped my arms around both of them and hugged them tighter than I'd ever hugged them before.

"Since I made a promise to you both, I want you both to make a promise to me." I said to them when we had all pulled away from our second group hug.
"Okay, we can do that." Dad replied. "What is this promise that you want us to make?"
I didn't answer his question. I just turned to face Papa, grabbed ahold of both of his hands, and looked into those icy blue eyes of his, the same eyes that I had. It was funny because, even though I had zero biological relation to my parents, minus my hair, I looked like I was their biological daughter, and that was something that I was proud to say.

"Papa, I want you to promise me that you'll take good care of yourself, that you'll continue to fight relentlessly every single day even though it's hard, and that you'll stay alive not just for Dad, but for me as well." I never broke eye contact with him as I said this since I wanted him to know that I was serious. "I know that there are some days where you just feel like giving up and giving into the all these temptations that you have, but I want you to keep fighting them, even on those bad days."
"I promise." Papa replied without even a moment of hesitation. He even smiled softly as he spoke. "Besides, as long as I have you and your dad, I'll always have a reason to stay alive."
I gave him a smile back before I turned to Dad, grabbed ahold of his hands, and looked into his brown eyes, just like I had with Papa (minus the fact that Papa's eyes were blue and not brown.)
"Dad, I want you to promise that, no matter what anyone says, you'll never stop being yourself." Again, just like I had done with Papa, I never broke eye contact with him so that he knew I was serious. "I know that your parents haven't and still don't accept you for who you are, but, at the end of the day, Papa and I love you and think you're perfect just the way you are. We wouldn't change a single thing about you, not even your imperfections."
"I promise." Just like Papa, Dad replied without even a moment of hesitation and gave me a soft smile.
"Thank you." I said to both of them as I let go of Dad's hands and began grabbing all of my stuff. "And this isn't a goodbye. It's a 'see you later.'"
They both laughed a little and said, "Well, if that's the case, see you later!" at the same time.
I laughed a little as well and gave them a goodbye wave before I finally began heading to my flight.

*****

While it took much longer than I'm willing to admit, I was eventually able to get all of my luggage into the storage area above all of the seats. But not after a lot of cramming and shoving, of course.

When it was finally time for the plane to take off, I squeezed the left arm rest so tightly that my knuckle turned white. It wasn't until I had looked out the window and saw that London was now nothing more than a skyline of buildings from the height that we were currently at when I finally let go of the arm rest and relaxed slightly. I then proceeded to watch as London went from a skyline of buildings to somewhere below the clouds, my smile growing more and more as the moments went by.

*****

After taking in the breathtaking sight for a little while, I finally looked away from the window and proceeded to pull out my phone. I then pulled out my earbuds, put them into my ears, and plugged them into my phone before I began playing my classical music playlist on shuffle while my phone sat on my lap. Since I had an about a nine and a half hour flight ahead of me, I wanted to take this opportunity to listen to all of my favorite classical songs by my favorite classical artists such as Beethoven and Mozart as a way of preparing myself for all of the things that I would be learning during my time at UNCSA. Plus, I just really wanted to listen to some classical music. You can never go wrong with a good song, especially if it's being played on the piano.

As the piano filled my ears, for some reason, I began thinking about a person that I haven't thought about in years.
My sister.

The reason why I found the fact that my sister had crossed my mind so strange is because I haven't seen her since I was five years old since she ran away from home at the age of eleven and hasn't been seen or heard from since. My careless and neglectful biological father, the very reason why my sister had left in the first place, didn't even bother to report her missing when he realized that she had run away, even when I kept questioning him about her whereabouts. Instead, he just acted like it never happened and continued living his miserable, alcohol-ridden life.

Up until I moved to London with my biological father and his girlfriend (whom he had always insisted that I refer to her as 'Mom,' even though they had only been together for a month at the time,) I never gave up on the idea that my sister would return home one day. For pretty much every hour of every day, since I literally had nothing else to do (yes, that includes not going to school, as my "real" father filled me with the hope of being homeschooled rather than attend a public school. Unsurprisingly, he never fulfilled that promise, and that forced me to play catch up when I was finally able to attend school. While I found learning everything that I was supposed to have learned at a much younger age to be extremely easy, I couldn't help but be angry at my "real" father for intentionally holding me back like that,) I would sit outside on the porch and watch to see if my sister's hooded figure would appear. As you can probably guess, that never happened. As a result, there were countless nights where I would wish for her to come back home right before I would fall asleep. She made dealing with my biological father's constant abuse and negligent a lot more bearable, and without her there, things were nothing more than a living hell.

Since I was so young when my sister ran away, there are very few things that I remember about her. But one of the main things that I remember about her was that she loathed her hair and always kept it covered with the hood of her hoodie because of it. This was because people at school always made fun of it, and I never understood why. I had the same curly blonde hair that she did, and I never got made fun of for it, not even once. Plus, we inherited our hair from our mother, who, judging from all of the pictures of her since I never got the chance to meet her, was very beautiful, and, according to my "father," never got made fun of because of her hair either.

Regardless of the reason(s) that my sister was unfortunate enough to fall victim to bullying, those bullies really messed her up mentally. Not only did they make her trichotillomania worse than it already was, but they contributed to her making the decision to run away from home. Even though I never knew any of them, I despised them because of this.

Another main thing that I remember about my sister was she loved sewing and making outfits more than anything in the world, mostly because it was something that my mother taught her to do before she passed away. My sister was even nice enough to make me a couple of outfits, outfits I wore until I outgrew them because, after she ran away, they were all that was left of her.

But now, thirteen years after she fled, aside from my memories (the very few, at least) of her, the only reason I know I have a sister is because of my name; Elizabeth Mary Howell-Lester.
Mary... the name of my sister.

Similarly, Mary's full name was Mary Elizabeth Aldridge (as you probably guessed, Aldridge was my last name before Dad and Papa adopted me and legally changed my last name.) The reason for Mary and I's first and middle names are basically the same is because (according to Mary) my mother was convinced that Mary was going to be the only child that she'd ever have due to complications she had (complications that ended up claiming her life when she gave birth to me) and she couldn't choose between the names 'Mary' and 'Elizabeth' so she used both of them for my sister. However, when she found out that she was pregnant was me, my mother decided that she wanted my name to be pretty much the same as Mary's because she wanted the two of us to have a close relationship.
Needless to say, that didn't exactly work out.

*****

I spent pretty much the entirety of my nearly nine and half hour flight reflecting on my past, the good and the bad parts of it, and I didn't even realize that I had done so until an announcement that the plane was about to land had been made.

Upon hearing the announcement, I turned the music that I had been listening to on my phone off and, just like I had done when the plane was taking off, squeezed the left arm rest tightly. I honestly had no idea why I had done this not once, but twice now. After all, it wasn't like this was my first time being on a plane, as I had gone on a plane and flown to England with my "real" dad and his girlfriend.

Regardless of my reasoning for panicking during the takeoff and landing of the plane, I was able to relax once the plane did finally land, and almost as soon as it had done so, I stood up and began gathering up my luggage so that I would be able to get off the plane as quickly as possible in order to avoid as much as the crowd as humanly possible, especially since I knew that there would be some people trying to do the same thing that I was doing.

*****

After a spending the last few hours getting out of the airport, taking a taxi to UNCSA, finishing up my paperwork, unpacking all of my belongings into my dorm, and (most importantly) getting adjusted to the fact that it was five hours earlier than I was used to it being, nearly all of my energy had been depleted, especially since I had forced myself to completely unpack because I knew that I would never be motivated to finish unpacking if I didn't just do it all at once.

With all of my belongings unpacked, I changed into my pajamas and laid down on my bed, exhausted from the long day of flying and getting settled into my college. Because I was so exhausted, I was able to pull the covers over myself and fall asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

*****

The next day, I woke up bright and early mostly because I was still trying to get used to the fact that North Carolina was five hours behind England, but also because I had gone to bed really early last night.

Nonetheless, I quickly got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. The first thing that I did was pick out my outfit, which was really easy to do since all I wore were dresses. The second thing that I did (after I changed into the dress that I picked out, of course) was go into the bathroom so that I could wash my face and brush my teeth and hair. Finally, I finished getting ready by putting my aching feet into one of my pairs of heels and grabbing my purse after placing my phone into it.

After I had grabbed my purse, I headed out of my dorm, making sure to close and lock the door behind me and place the key into my purse when I had done so. Since school didn't start for another week, I was forced to find ways to occupy myself until then.

Today, I made plans to explore the campus and try to acquaint myself with my fellow piano students. However, those plans were led slightly astray when I found myself in one of the recital halls that would be used throughout the school year.

Entering the recital hall, I was immediately in awe. Three-hundred gray seats surrounded velvet red walls and faced the wooden stage where a velvet red, the same velvet red that the walls were, curtain hung a few feet behind my favorite part of this entire room; a grand piano.

The moment that I saw the grand piano, I found myself walking towards it. The urge to play it was too strong for me to even try to resist it. Besides, since I was a piano student, it wasn't like anyone would get mad at me for using it.
The clicking of my heels echoed through the entire recital hall when I stepped onto the stage and walked over to the grand piano. As I did so, I admired the sleek black paint that the body had and how the keys were a beautiful vibrant black and white. By the looks of it, this grand piano seemed like it was brand new. That, or it was very well taken care of on a regular basis.

When I sat down at the piano, I tapped on one of the white keys to see what the piano sounded like and how it sounded. Not only was it perfectly tuned, but it was also the most beautiful sounding piano that I had ever heard. Words can't even begin to describe just how beautiful this piano sounded. It was just one of those things that you had to experience for yourself. The only thing that I could really say was that it was truly one of the most beautiful sounds that I've ever heard come out of a piano.

Ecstatic to play the piano that was directly in front of me, I placed my fingers down on the keys that I needed to start with and started playing the very first song that Dad had taught me to play on the piano; Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. Not caring that it was only August and therefore four months away from Christmas, I allowed the joyous notes to echo throughout the entire hall.

As the song went on, the smile that had formed on my face when I heard what the piano sounded like for the first time grew and grew. I just couldn't help myself. That song just meant the absolute world to me since tons of good memories were associated with it.

After I finished playing the song, I listened as the last few notes echoed throughout the hall. Then, when the echo faded away, I heard something that I didn't expect.
Applause.

Since I wasn't expecting to hear any sort of response to what I had just played, hearing the applause fill my ears startled me, but only for a moment.

A moment later, I found myself looking through the hall in an attempt to find the source of the applause. It didn't take long for me to lay eyes on a boy in the very front row. Upon closer inspection, he appeared to be five foot ten and was skinny (maybe a bit too skinny.) He also had short dirty blond hair and brown eyes. "It's about time that a piano student found their way over here and played something." His voice echoed through the hall as he spoke. "I've been dying to hear a live piano performance."
"Oh, well, in that case, glad that I could give you one." I replied, my voice also echoing through the hall.
"Yeah, you're really good actually." He smiled shyly and looked down at the ground. "And I'm not just saying that because I really enjoy Christmas music. I'm saying it because I really think that."
"Thank you." I found myself smiling shyly and looking down at the ground. I didn't know why I was doing this though. After all, I didn't even know this boy. He was a complete and total stranger to me.
"So, what's your name?" The boy asked after a couple moments of awkward silence had gone by.
"My name's Ellie." I told him. "What's yours?"
"Lucas." He replied with a smile. "Ellie... that's such a beautiful name. I won't forget it."
"Thanks." I said again, the shy smile growing ever so slightly. Wanting to keep the conversation going, I asked him, "So, what's your major? I'd tell you what I'm studying, but you've already figured it out." I laughed a little after I said this.
"My major is cinematography." Lucas said. "It's been a dream of mine to make movies ever since I was little , and this school's getting me closer and closer to my dream every single day."
"That's good." I gave him a smile. "Hearing you say that makes me think that I'm going to really enjoy my time here."
"First year?"
I nodded.
"Ah, I see." He also nodded. "It's my second year here, and yeah, I think you're going to like it too." He then stood up and added, "Well, I better get going. It was really nice to talk to you. Maybe I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, maybe." I shrugged, a slight smile on my face as I did so. "If you keep coming down here to see piano performances, I'm sure we'll run into each other again."
"I'll definitely do that." Lucas slightly smiled back at me. "I can always use some inspiration." He then turned and started walking away, but not without waving goodbye and adding, "See you around."
My smile widened as I also waved goodbye to him. I watched as he exited the hall and disappeared from my sight.

Little did I know, that day marked the start of something amazing.