Sheridan Wolfe

Chapter 02: Cravings ... and Meat

LOCATION: @the VAUGHN HOME

Moon: YOUNG

Levi - Complete with mismatched socks, I stumble out of my room and into the hallway bathroom. I pull a brown and red plaid shirt over my marvel character t-shirt. Ironman is always a favorite but the superhero boost somehow makes me feel stronger.

I pause to flash 'mirror me' a look of approval quickly take in my whole condition. My face is slightly flushed, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, but all in all I appear normal. I turn sharply to leave and my arm bumps against my bandaged side causing me to moan like an old man with back problems.

Pressed for time, I clinch my jaw and push through the pain. I run down the narrow hall, again bumping into the walls until I find my footing at the stairs.

For the third time, my mother calls from the kitchen. Her voice already irritated that I was still in bed after seven o'clock. I use my long stride to skip steps down as normal, forgetting that this time I have a very good reason not to. I was quickly reminded of that reason the moment my feet hit the bottom floor.

A jolt of pain shoots straight from my side, so intense it branches out to all ends of my body, leaving my eyes watering. I buckle forward, creating another painful sensation across my stomach which forces me to straighten my back again.

"Nope. No bending. Bending is bad." I wheeze, as I brush the tears from the corner of my eyes. My deep breaths send white spots across my vision and I amend my previous statement, "Breathing bad too. Got it. No more breathing."

"Levi! Wake up. I have to go."

"I'm here!" I say, entering the kitchen with a forced a perfect smile to hide the pain. I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table, in full State Trooper Uniform. Her dark green collared shirt with patches on both shoulders and a star above her left pocket. Her tie in a perfect knot as well and her large brimmed hat sitting on the table beside her plate of toast and coffee. Her black curly hair is pulled back in a tight bun low above her neck. Not a single hair out of place, leaving a clear view of her striking facial features. The high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She has warm mocha eyes that match my own but she has highlighted them with light color. The gentle hint of makeup across her lips are set in a firm look as she reads the news across the blue glow of her iPhone.

My mother is rough and tough but she also has a feminine side to her. She loves fashion, and jewelry, in fact, I've seen her dress up and she is knock out gorgeous. Ten times more striking than any Black American Actress on the red carpet. Don't tell her I said that though. I appreciate how she works hard to match her look with her job. I think it gives her more confidence.

"Oh," She quirked an eyebrow at my appearance, I was sure to carefully push out my chest to show off my Ironman logo. She smirked then glances at the cheap plastic clock above the sink. "Okay. We have five minutes extra. I only had to threaten you three times, looks like you're improving."

"It was only three?" I huff, reaching over her, I snatch my own piece of toast, a knife and I open the raspberry-jam jar.

"How do you feel today?" She asks motioning to my concealed injury.

My mother hadn't been a State Trooper for long. Before that she had been a local traffic cop. Basically all my life she's been in law enforcement which means she is used to dealing with car accident victims, and compared to my little bite, she has seen much worse. Which is why she offers no sympathy to my current condition.

"You know," I protest, "Most parents would insist their child rest the day after a near death situation. Not get out of the house as quickly as possible."