Aberration

Chapter Two

Four months earlier

Flip the pillow again.
Readjust the blankets.
Reposition your body.

Insomnia.

I've tried every sleep mechanic in the book and nothing's working. I check my phone.

4:52 am

My alarm will be ringing in eight minutes, signaling that it's time to repeat the monotonous cycle that is my life. It's always the same routine.

Get up, wash up, get dressed, devour breakfast, then rush out of the house before Aunt Robin can wake up for her 6:00 prayer...

Get to school, attend seven pointless classes that don't teach me anything I'm remotely interested in, then rush to the parking lot so I can leave before the busses can hold up traffic...

Get home, listen to Aunt Robin nag about how I need to get my life right with Jesus, breeze through homework, download some music, then attempt to sleep...

Repeat.

There are some anomalies in this rotation, though. Sometimes, I'll actually fall asleep. Some days, I'll skip school altogether with Cameron and work in his studio. And there's always that very rare occasion when my Aunt decides to do as the good Book says and rest.

"Alright... No point in trying now" I say as I fling my sheets across the room.

I reach for my phone and headphones and click the shuffle icon. "Westside, Right On Time" by Kendrick Lamar begins to play and I whisper a quick thank you to God for playing something I haven't heard in a while.

I speedily brush my teeth, pop a couple mints in my mouth to make up for my lackluster effort at personal hygiene, get dressed in my typical lazy attire, then scurry downstairs.

"JaJa? Is that you?"

Dammit... I was too loud.

That's the second worst thing she could've called me, behind my actual first name.

I really hate it when she refers to me by the nicknames my parents used to call me. It reminds me that, at one point, people had to create monikers to distinguish my father, the Senior, from his son, the Junior. That was a long time ago...

My parents died when I was seven. Bad case of wrong place at the wrong time. What's even worse, they weren't even the target. The guy meant to get someone else but my parents looked similar from behind so he... well you get the idea.

Social services thought it'd be a good idea to send me to live with my aunt since she lived a good distance away. Something about suppressing the memories.

One does not forget the death of their parents, by the way...

Anyway, she was okay at first. She was still in shock over the loss of her younger brother so she didn't do or say much which was fine with me since I didn't speak too often either. Things were wonderful until she "found her Father again".

It all went downhill from there. Church service EVERY Sunday morning, Wednesday night youth group, Friday night bible study, and prayer. Oh the consistent, badgering prayer. You'd think the Lord would get tired of hearing His name called so much...

I cringe as Aunt Robin hops out of her room and makes her way down the steps.

"I hardly see you in the mornings nowadays. You're always so quick to get to school."

I bite my cheek to keep from being retorting something severely sarcastic. I may not like her much, but I learned very early on that disrespectfulness wasn't something my Aunt Robin tolerated very well.

"I'm just eager to learn Auntie." I reply as I casually remove my headphones from my ears. "Besides, school's a good ways away and I'd hate to get caught in traffic. You know how early people like to go to work here..."

I could sense her wrinkled face forming a frown as I dug in the kitchen counter for a couple Pop-Tart packs. She was standing right behind me and I could feel it.

Avoid eye contact. Avoid eye contact.

"Boy, face me when you speak to me!" she growls.

And... Here we go.

I make a swift 180 degree rotation and dip my head to look at my aunt. She's a good 8 inches shorter than me but she stands as if she's still alpha dog in the house. Napoleon complex, I believe it's called.

"You didn't sleep well again last night, did you?" She inquires. For an aging woman her vision is uncanny, even in a dimly lit room.

"I slept fine." I hiss back. I'm so tired of having these conversations with her. It's always the same things.

I never sleep enough.
I never eat enough.
I never pray enough.
I'm always gone.
I'm always quiet.
Nothing's ever okay for this woman.

"I'm just concerned about you-"

I cut her off with a hug. She almost said my name...

"I know. Hey I gotta go. Love ya." I don't stick around to hear her reply as I break for the door. I hate stretching the truth with my aunt but I hate having to explain my life even more.